You Make a Great Team
When civilizations looked for a scapegoat, Jews died. So it has always been. But why should anti-Semitism be the world’s longest hatred? If we imagine a hidden intelligence explaining Jew-phobia, we are looking for reason where there is none. Anti-Semitism is illogical, indeed contradictory. Jews were hated because they were capitalists or communists; because they were godless or religious; because they kept to themselves or they infiltrated everywhere.
Countless books have been written about the root causes of anti-Semitism. However the simplest explanation was given by Haman, an ‘honest’ anti-Semite: “There is a certain people dispersed and scattered…whose laws are different.” Jews were hated because they were different.
To be sure, every nation is different. Jews, however, were unusual in the extent to which they were prepared to fight and if necessary die for the right and duty to be different. Unlike other conquered nations, Jews resisted assimilation to the dominant culture or conversion to the dominant faith. Already in the fourth century, Augustine could not suppress a note of wonder at this phenomenon: It is a most notable fact that all the nations subjugated by Rome adopted the heathenish ceremonies; while the Jewish nation, whether under pagan or Christian monarchs, has never lost the sign of their law, by which they are distinguished from all.
In a later age, Rousseau added: [A]… truly unique spectacle is to see an expatriated people, with neither place nor land…enslaved, persecuted, scorned by all nations, nonetheless preserving its characteristics, its laws, its customs…The Jews provide us with an astonishing spectacle: the laws of Numa, Lycurgus, Solon are dead; the very much older laws of Moses are still alive. Athens, Sparta, Rome have perished and no longer have children left on earth; Zion, destroyed, has not lost its children.
So though we’ve lived with all nations, we never merged with them; and while for much of Jewish history, we settled far from our ancestral country, we always remained its citizens. All acknowledge this as a unique marvel, the causes of which certainly deserve serious study.
One does not have to be a great thinker to ascertain that G-d’s protection is the one essential ingredient that made our people indestructible. But G-d desires a partnership. We too play a role in guaranteeing the survival of the next generation of Jews. But what exactly is our particular function?
We are all aware that Jewish identity is conferred via women. This goes back to the very first Jewish child, Isaac. So though Abraham already had a child, Ishmael, by the Egyptian Hagar, G-d was insistent that only Sarah’s son continue the covenant. Maternity, not paternity, was the decisive factor.
On the other hand, status is conferred by men. Hence a king is succeeded by his son. Similarly, being a Cohen or Levi is determined by Dad.
Rabbi Baruch Halevi Epstein (Tosefes B’rachah) makes the linguistic observation that the two words ben (son) and bat (daughter) are compacted forms of other words. Ben derives from the word boneh-builder (“Call them not your sons but your builders”), while Bat comes from bayit-home. The moral: Men build buildings; women build homes. Similarly, the word ummah, nation, is from eim-mother. National as well as personal identity is maternal.
Torah’s respect for male-female differences is supported by contemporary science which argues that the female brain is predominantly hard-wired for empathy; the male brain for system-building. Empathy is the ability to relate to another person. System-building is the drive to classify phenomena by discovering the rules that govern them. Thus to empathize, you need a degree of attachment; to systematize you need a measure of detachment. Also, you empathize by understanding the nature of people; you systematize by understanding the nature of events and objects. Torah personalities reflect these differences. Sarah and Rebecca understood better than their husbands which child would continue the Covenant, and which would not (Isaac, not Ishmael; Jacob, not Esav).
There are only two cases where the word “Torah” is conjoined with an abstract noun. One describes the priest: “The law of truth (toras emes) was in his mouth. He walked with me in peace…and turned many from sin.” (Malachi, 2:6) The other portrays a woman of valor: “She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the law of loving kindness (toras chesed) is on her tongue.” (Proverbs, 31: 26)
The difference between the dispassionate search for truth (toras emes) and the passionate drive to loving kindness (toras chesed) is the difference between attaining status within the public versus the family hierarchy. The public arena is where Torah favors the male who uses his natural gifts of pride, competitiveness, and strength to achieve the rank of king, priest, and usually, prophet. But Torah placed at least equal emphasis on spiritually developing the family unit where a woman’s innate compassion, love, and kindness are primary prerequisites. And that is why social status follows the father, while personal identity follows the mother.
In the Purim story, our two heroes personify this distinction. Mordechai, the public leader of the Jews, rallied the entire nation, and thus rose in position and prominence. Esther, on the other hand, was the private Jew, whose ability to arouse her husband’s compassion, was no less vital. What a team they made.
This past week, my son Yankie and his wife Chana formed their own duo. In our current society, gender roles are often blurred. Husbands are just as apt to diaper their babies, as mothers are to pursue careers. Yet the Torah is timeless. Years ago, when you wanted to know the strength of the army (the goal of many Biblical censuses), you counted the men; the strength of a civilization, you counted on the women. Today, if I want to know the health of the new congregation, look to Rabbi Yankie; the health of my grandchildren, look to Rebbetzin Chana.
Jews were summoned by G-d to many things: to become a holy nation, to become a holy family. To accomplish these dual tasks requires us to be different than other nations and other families. This in turn requires a different sort of husband and wife. Mazal Tov Yankie and Chana.
Together you make a great team.