December 12th and 19th: Vayeshev and Mikketz
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
We humans are remarkably changeable. Whether it is a matter of open-mindedness or gullibility, we are susceptible to persuasion and often change our opinions. Examples in popular culture are both amusing and telling. In the 1934 film, It Happened One Night, Clark Gable takes off his shirt, revealing his bare chest—a surprise that turned out to be a cultural event. The union suit he was not wearing was almost rendered extinct, and the men’s underwear industry changed forever. Then there was President John F. Kennedy who braved a cold inauguration day bare-headed—and inadvertently decimated the men’s hat industry.
Sometimes our changeability involves more serious matters. In 1972, Gay and Lesbian Jews in Los Angeles organized the first “Gay Synagogue,” Beth Chayim Chadashim, and many leading Reform Rabbis did not approve. Explaining their reasoning in Halachic (Jewish Law) terms, they declared both homosexuality and a “gay synagogue” impermissible in Judaism. This formidable opposition did not stop Beth Chayim Chadashim or the organizers of other Gay-friendly congregations around the country, and less than twenty years later, the Reform Movement had completely changed its opinion. Openly Gay and Lesbian Jews were welcome at congregations, as students at the Hebrew Union College, and as members of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. One of the first “out” in 1990 was newly ordained Rabbi Denise Eger, who later became the President of the CCAR. Opinions held in the 1970s had changed radically.
A Biblical example of such changes in perception comes in the tumultuous life of Joseph (Genesis 37-50). Adored by his father but hated by his brothers, he is favored, then enslaved, then appreciated and trusted, then sexually desired (by his master’s wife) and then cast out when he refuses her advances. He is imprisoned, appreciated, and then forgotten. Finally, he is whisked from the dungeon to prominence and power in Egypt—with his formerly hostile brothers appreciating his largesse in saving them from famine. Joseph believes that it is all part of God’s plan—saying to his brothers in Genesis 50, “Though you intended me harm, God intended it for good,” but, from an emotional and a public relations point of view, Wow!
A lesson from Joseph’s saga is that reputations and situations are not permanent. Circumstances and institutions may seem fixed, but surprises happen. Whether good or bad, “Gam zeh ya’avor./ This too shall pass.” The mighty may topple; the lowly may be raised high. And we should not forget about God’s influence in the world. This was the point of abolitionist Reverend Theodore Parker (1810-1860) who, in a statement later popularized by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., affirmed: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
The problem, of course, is that this “arc” can sometimes be more like a rollercoaster ride. While we may be shocked at the recent rise of anti-Semitism, the fact is that the relative absence of anti-Jewish hatred in the last fifty years is a patchy and somewhat ahistorical phenomenon. Our Jewish story is an “up and down” tale of acceptance and rejection, permanence and exile, peace and conflict. The disparities in Jewish experience are multitudinous but consider these two from the Twentieth Century. In 1915, the Jewish community of Atlanta was terrorized and “othered” when a member of the community, Leo Frank, was falsely accused of murder and lynched (1915), but, a mere year later, Louis D. Brandeis, a Jewish son of immigrants, was nominated and confirmed as a Justice on the U.S. Supreme Court. In the 1940s, the United States fought a world war to defeat Nazi hate, but returning Jewish G.I.s faced housing and job discrimination. (For a riveting look at this post-war irony, find a copy of Gentleman’s Agreement, the 1947 bestseller by Laura Z. Hobson, or its Oscar-winning film adaptation in which director Elia Kazan and actor Gregory Peck “bring home the fight against anti-Semitism.”)
The disparities of America’s attitudes toward us continue—as does the anti-Semitic twisting of logic and history. Consider this painfully ironic observation by Charles Asher Small, a Jewish and Canadian scholar of anti-Semitism: “Think about this. In less than two generations the Jewish people have gone from not-white and worthy of extermination…to white colonizers worthy of extermination.”
We could regard such hateful thinking as a cue for utter futility: humanity is hopeless. Why must we constantly “make our case” for acceptance and respect? It is absurd and remarkably frustrating, but perhaps this is just the way of the world. Victories at some points along the way do not obviate the need for continually taking care of ourselves—and continually proving that we are good neighbors and constructive citizens. Indeed, a possible lesson from our “up and down ride” is that “what goes down can also go up.” People are changeable and malleable, and perhaps a response better than despair is to redouble our efforts to convince everyone that we Jews are good—and that equality and respect for Jews and everyone else is a good move for humanity.
Among those who advocate for this persuasive approach is Einat Wilf. A former Israeli diplomat and Member of Knesset, Dr. Wilf was a peacenik for most of her life, but after spending many years working on the peace process, she had a change of heart and mind. Among her insights:
(1) The “Palestinian Refugee” identity was created in the 1960s and foisted upon Arabs from all over the Middle East who had formerly been subjects of the Ottoman Empire. In any other conflict and migration situation, these people would have been re-homed in another part of the former empire, but “Palestinianism” was created and supported by agents of hate and dissatisfaction. However, what was created can be recrafted. The “permanent refugee” identity can be redefined to something more positive, something more peaceful and constructive.
(2) The Arab and Muslim nations doing the best are the ones who have abandoned their foolish quest to destroy Israel and focused on making their own countries better—economically, socially, politically. If this fact can be communicated to more and more Arabs, then the anti-Jewish and UNWRA notion of a permanent and hostile refugee population can be replaced with what Dr. Wilf calls “Arab Zionism.” Arabs can build a good society if they focus their energies and resources on constructive goals.
Israel is here to stay, Dr. Wilf reminds us, and Israel has time to influence its neighbors for good. Israel and World Jewry have the opportunity to remind and persuade the world that destruction is not only futile but also a waste of energy and resources. Constructive and hopeful Arabs can build a better Arab country, and, like the Jewish Zionists, they can save themselves.