Judaism On Prejudice January 30, 2008

A beautiful article on Chabad.org caught my eye today at random. Normally I don’t read Chabad’s The Jewish Woman, but doing a Google News search for “Torah” led me to this beautiful article by Ms. Stacey Goldman, teaching about this week’s Torah portion. The piece is called “The Spirit of the Laws”, a phrase I am usually used to hearing in a different, more judgment-centered context — “don’t do X, it would violate the spirit of the law”, if not the letter — to justify the prohibition of any number of things.

Ms. Goldman’s Torah teaching, however, sheds light on a beautiful concept expressed by Exodus 21: G-d’s eschewing of prejudice between humans. Her story begins autobiographical, lamenting her ironic “loss of Jewish identity” as her Jewish observance grew:

It sounds bizarre, but I have found that the more I live my life as an observant Jew, the more I seem to lose my Jewish identity. When I was growing up in Minnesota, Jews made up less than two percent of the mostly Scandinavian, German population. My dark, curly hair was a constant reminder of my minority status. I never saw this as a negative aspect to my identity. On the contrary, I relished my membership in a global club of Jewish people all over the world…I didn’t discriminate; I would beam at every person regardless of age, gender, length of skirt, head covering or lack thereof. Invariably, I would receive a nod and a smile in return. Yes, we are one of the same; we shared a history and a destiny.

When I was accepted to an East Coast university, I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm at the prospect of constantly being surrounded by my People…I increased in my Jewish observance, got married and started to have children. I still smiled at other Jews, but I noticed that I was only smiling at Jews who looked suspiciously like me - the new religious me. In fact, I had lost my ability to identify other Jews who weren’t wearing the telltale uniform of Orthodox Judaism. I had found the Torah of Israel, but I seemed to have lost my sense of the Nation of Israel that had come so easily before I even knew about the commandments.

I hear this complaint far too often from non-Orthodox Jews — that Orthodox Jews don’t want to interact with them, that Orthodox Jews “think they are better” intrinsically, that Orthodox Jews are standoffish and clannish. This is especially painful when someone’s path to observance is dashed because - how were she supposed to know she wasn’t supposed to wear that..? - someone cut them off or embarrassed or admonished them when they were taking their first steps to Torah.

Ms. Goldman finds her way out of her mindset through learning Exodus 21, and what she learns is far bigger than just relations between Jews — she learns lessons for all of humanity:

Last week we read of the ultimate revelation, the giving of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai. This was immediately followed by a set of laws concerning the sacrificial altar which was placed in the Temple. The Torah portion of this week moves into civil laws, interpersonal relationships, and the foundations for civil society. It seems incongruous to go from sacrificial offerings to civil laws, and leads to questioning the meaning of this seeming non-sequitur. The commentator Rashi opines that, “This tells you to place the Sanhedrin (civil law court) next to the altar.” This is a profound juxtaposition.

According to the Maharal’s [Maharal of Prague, 16th century commentator] explanation of Rashi, the altar and the Sanhedrin are deeply dependent on one another. Just as the altar serves as a conduit of peace between the nation of Israel and Heaven, civil laws enacted by the Sanhedrin maintain peace below. True peace on earth cannot be attained unless there is first peace between the people and G‑d. If we are united with G‑d, we can be a united nation…

If my greater observance of the mitzvot was actually distancing me from my people, I was clearly missing a key element of the Torah. It was almost a perversion of the Torah to allow observance to interfere with my inter-personal relationships.

WELL. We see that interpersonal prejudicial issues with Jews of whatever observance level are clearly out of the question. And it does not stop here. Every field whose name ends in “-Jewish relations” testifies to the fact that what Ms. Goldman learns next should be learned by far more people:

The Maharal then takes it to an even deeper level: when one loves G‑d, it is impossible not to love His creations. When one hates humanity, it is impossible that he would love the G‑d that created them (Nitivot Olam, Netiv Ahavat Re’a 1).

While Ms. Goldman concentrates the remainder of her article on Jewish unity (a worthy topic, do not get me wrong), this quote from the Mahara”l of Prague says it all.

During the Exodus, when the Nation of Israel was crossing the Red Sea, the Midrash Rabbah teaches us, the angels wanted to praise G-d (”sing shirah” is written), for having saved the Jewish People. G-d rebukes the angels saying, “How can you sing praise when my the work of My hands is drowning in the sea?” (Remember the Children of Israel’s “Song at the Sea” was a freestyle, an emotional expression over what had just happened — musical venting maybe?)

Even the Nation of Egypt, which Scripture calls the most depraved place, which legislated genocide against Jews — was made up of G-d’s creations who deserved dignity even while being punished. All of humanity are referred to as G-d’s creations in Scripture, starting with Adam, “male and female He created Adam”.

“When one hates humanity, it is impossible that he would love the G‑d that created them.” This, as far as Judaism is concerned, makes interpersonal hatred — for absolutely any uncontrollable reason — an oxymoron to having a relationship with G-d. Prejudice follows suit, because sinah/hatred does not have to be revealed in the open, we are also cautioned against harboring “hate in our hearts”.

“When one loves G‑d, it is impossible not to love His creations.” Period.