This past Shabbat we began the final book of the Torah, Sefer Devarim, the Book of Deuteronomy. The word “Deuteronomy” comes from a Greek translation of the phrase “Repetition of the Torah”, which is in a sense a fitting name for this final Book, because it largely consists of Moses, on the brink of the promised land, rearticulating to the people all the lessons of their journey.
A central teaching from this Book, and a central teaching which has become a staple of Jewish self-understanding over the generations, is the notion of “chosenness,” or the Jews being God’s chosen people, most explicitly articulated inDeuteronomy 7:6, “For you are a people consecrated to your God יהוה: of all the peoples on earth your God יהוה chose you to be God’s treasured people.”
Yet, lest we think the Torah, and Jewish self-understanding, holds no space for the idea that God also develops specific relationships with other peoples, the Torah portion we read this past week belies that understanding. Recalling the Israelites’ journey on the way to the promised land, for example, Moses says to the people, “Then יהוה said to me… charge the people as follows: You will be passing through the territory of your kin, the descendants of Esau, who live in Seir. Though they will be afraid of you, be very careful not to provoke them. For I will not give you of their land so much as a foot can tread on; I have given the hill country of Seir as a possession to Esau… And יהוה [further] said to me: Do not harass the Moabites or provoke them to war. For I will not give you any of their land as a possession; I have assigned Ar as a possession to the descendants of Lot” (Deuteronomy 2:2, 4-5, 9).
Here we have a passage of ancient Jewish tradition which identifies not only a special allotment between God and the People of Israel; but between God and the descendants of Esau; and between God and the Moabites, the descendents of Lot—not Israelites.
There are many directions we could take a text like this, but our Torah discussion this past Shabbat held space for the question of how, as a modern community, we make sense of the idea of chosenness, particularly in light of an ancient teaching which suggests God formed relationships not only to the People of Israel, but potentially to all peoples. (Who doesn’t remember the famous midrash, rabbinic expansion, in which God is depicted as admonishing the angels celebrating the drowning of the Egyptians at the sea, charging “The work of My hands, the Egyptians, are drowning at sea, and you wish to sing songs?!”)
Participants in our discussion reflected that the idea of chosenness is not meant — or at least today does not need to be interpreted — to suggest chauvinism: one group’s imaginings that it is inherently better than another group. Far from it.
It rather can be understood as articulating one group’s subjective experience of intimacy with the Divine, while making space for the possible interpretation that other communities can have their own subjective experiences of such intimacy, articulated in their own idiom, culture, and experience.
Furthermore, the idea of “chosenness” can implicitly make the case for an idea encapsulated in the title of a celebrated book by Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, The Dignity of Difference, a title which can be interpreted to suggest the sacredness of the way different communities have flowered into different religions — different articulations of an understanding of, and a relationship to, the Sacred. Different religions, under this view — in contrast to John Lennon’s “Imagine,” in which he romanticizes the idea of no religions to divide us — comprise a sacred, beautiful tapestry, contributing to a more beautiful whole, rather than serving as an obstacle to wholeness.
“Chosenness” can certainly be leveraged in such a way as to suggest triumphalism, aggressive nationalism, manifest destiny that has the effect of blotting out the worth of other peoples. But given how central it is to Jewish self-understanding, it’s also a concept worth wrestling with and forming a relationship to in such a way that makes space for its redemptive qualities.
Get Spiritually Ready for the High Holidays!
While we’re in the spirit of introspection, I want to highlight an upcoming three-session class I’m offering coming up to prepare us for the High Holidays. High Holiday Preparation: An Exploration of Turning, Text, and Tradition, will hold space for us to explore the liturgy we’ll encounter during the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe, to ask both what it asks of us and what sacredness it can lend to our lives.
The course will take place on Tuesdays, September 10, 17, and 24, from 7:00 to 8:15 pm, with hybrid attendance options available. I invite you tosign up and share this journey of reflection and renewal with me.
Something of A Reset on the Middle East
In general, I want to offer a brief reset on the ongoing war in Israel and Gaza, and the general position in which Israel finds itself, with threats from Hamas in Gaza, Hezbollah in Lebanon, Militias in Syria and Iraq, and from Iran, who supports and funds all of these groups.
On the one hand, as regular readers of these writings have probably long since deduced, my view of the world and foreign policy certainly includes an element of what some might call realpolitik: my understanding of Israel’s responsibility to keep its ten million residents safe was forged through an understanding of World War II, and of the Holocaust. With these events central to my historical understanding, I understand certain moments in history to demonstrate that, much as our hearts might break at the thought, there is no answer other than war. I understand there to be certain actors who would accept no diplomatic resolution to one of the questions on the table: the long-term safety and security of Jews and Israelis, for example.
While Hamas has nowhere near the power and capacity that Hitler had, with a long history of vowing to destroy Israel, and few if any suggestions that it would ever tolerate Israel’s existence, it’s hard to imagine Israel not feeling, after the massacre of October 7, as though it needs to remove this active threat to its people.
Not every bad actor is as bad as Hitler, and sometimes resorting to this historical comparison suggests a limited understanding of history. It’s only because it is so well known that it breaks through popular understanding and serves as a point of comparison. Still, sometimes extreme examples are useful because they sharpen and demonstrate a principle: the possibility that sometimes a bad actor has to be defeated militarily for peace to prevail.
That said, the comparison is not total: I think few imagine a moment where Hamas would offer an “unconditional surrender” as did Germany’s Third Reich in 1945, and so it is reasonable to question at what point Israel will have achieved “total victory” in Gaza that the Prime Minister has vowed to achieve. The articulated definition by the Prime Minister’s office is that total victory means “eliminating Hamas’s military and governing capabilities, and releasing our hostages.” I pray for this result.
And, the question will come as to at what point is military force no longer the best tool in Israel’s arsenal for achieving it?
War carries with it a devastating cost, and should always be an instrument of last resort, even if that last resort is, in my view, sometimes necessary. While the figures are disputed, an Israeli strike at a recent school in Gaza in which Hamas had embedded itself reportedly killed nearly 100 people. Even if 19 were militants bent on killing Israelis, and even if we don’t place all of the responsibility on Israel, when Hamas also bears that responsibility, we can all acknowledge the devastating fact of those civilian lives lost, whatever the number.
I don’t have the skills or expertise to name when the war is “won” and when a given strike is militarily necessary or not. I do know there is a massive difference between Hamas’ capacity to carry out the horrors it did on October 7 and its capacity to do so again today: that capacity is clearly significantly degraded if not altogether gone. I don’t know at what point the war’s costs become too high and the threat of future reprisals of any kind are gone. I know it’s reasonable to ask those questions, and reasonable to pray for an ultimate return of the hostages, peace between two peoples, and an ultimate end to war.
Navigating the Intersection of Political Protest and Antisemitism: Perspectives on the Upcoming Democratic National Convention
With this in mind, I am looking ahead to next week’s Democratic National Convention in part, of course, because it will formally effectuate the nomination of one of the two tickets, alongside the Republicans, most likely to determine policy that affects the Jewish people — and the world — over the course of the next for years, but also because it’s clear that there are likely to be massive pro-Palestinian protests outside of it.
I look ahead to this with trepidation, because while it is absolutely possible to hold a pro-Palestinian protest that is not anti-Israel and not antisemitic, in this day and age it is rare that that needle is threaded by everyone who takes part in these protests. There will surely be elements of these protests that land painfully with large swaths of the Jewish population, and it is likely that some of these protests will inevitably spill over into antisemitic and anti-Israel tropes.
For me, the central difficulty stems from when violence against Palestinians is framed in a manner entirely devoid of the threat Israel faces from Hamas and from the surrounding Middle East — as though Israel’s actions have no possible basis other than antipathy towards Palestinians. I have no doubt that some Jews and some Israelis harbor prejudice against Palestinians, Arabs, and Muslims, in the same way that I have no doubt that some Palestinians, Arabs, and Muslims (and not just those formally associated with Hamas) harbor prejudice against Jews.
Still I am concerned by the ease with which the context of Israel’s reprisals against Hamas, embedded throughout civilian areas of Gaza and vowing to ultimately destroy it, is erased by these protests.
It is totally legitimate to use one’s First Amendment right of free speech and assembly to lobby a political party to take a more active interest in one’s community at home and abroad, particularly when the issue is one of life and death.
It is equally legitimate to push back on the central thrust of those protests if they ignore the proximate cause for that violence (Hamas’ massacre on October 7) and portray a one-sided depiction of the events of the day.
