Does Being Chosen Mean Being Superior?

 

"You take too much upon yourselves, for the entire congregation are all holy, and the Lord is in their midst. So why do you raise yourselves above the Lord's assembly?" Numbers 16:3

 

This week’s Parasha is Korach.  It is named after the man who leads a rebellion against Moshe and Aharon. His complaint against them, as stated in the verse above, is centered on issues of challenging leadership, authority, and priestly privilege within the community, reflecting internal disagreements and power dynamics.

This, clearly, is an internal or a social conflict within Judaism.

Interestingly enough, as a Jew who lived for a few decades in the Diaspora, I heard, and more than once, a similar argument addressed against Jews, in general, by non-Jews.  “Who do you think you are?” I heard one of them (a professor!) complain, “the 'chosen  people,’ A master race? Aren’t all humans equal in the eyes of G-d?”

While both topics involve perception of superiority, one is a Biblical internal dispute about religious authority, the other, is a prejudiced external narrative rooted and fueled by misinformation and bias rather than factual or theological basis. It is used to justify discrimination, hostility or violence against Jewish communities.

The concept of the Jewish People being the “Chosen People” is, unfortunately, often misunderstood as implying superiority. History is interlaced with anti-semitic stereotypes about Jewish scholars and Jewish superiority. These are complex and have evolved over the centuries.

During the Middle Ages, for instance, Jews were often stereotyped as intellectual and theological rivals of the Church. Some narratives falsely claimed that Jews held secret knowledge or conspired to undermine it.

Even the Enlightenment and Modern eras, when emancipation encouraged Jews to embrace education, were not free of such phenomena. While Jewish scholarship led to contributions to science, philosophy, and medical advancements, anti-semitic stereotypes maliciously depicted Jews as cunning or overly intellectual, implying superiority.

Furthermore, in the late 19th early 20th centuries, some pseudo-scientific racial theories falsely claimed that Jews had innate racial qualities. While categorizing them as biologically inferior, they maintained that Jews possessed intellectual superiority.

In contrast to such accusations, Jewish sources, through the ages, have emphasized that the title “Chosen People” entails responsibility, a sense of mission and service rather than inherent superiority. Here are a few examples.

Rabbi Yehudah Halevi (1075-1141) believes that “G-d chose Yisrael not because of their righteousness, but because of His love and promise to the forefathers.” (Kuzari I:95). In other words, “Being Chosen” is rooted in Divine Covenant, not merit. Other nations, according to him, also have divine missions.

Ramba"m (1138-1204), in Hilchot Teshuvah 5:2, similarly states that there is no inherent spiritual ceiling to non-Jews. The title, “Chosen People,” does not imply that Jews are spiritually superior.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, one of the foremost Jewish theologians and philosophers of the 20th century, stresses that being chosen is not a privilege, but a burden of moral responsibility. That, he asserts, has nothing to do with racial superiority. (G-d in Search of Man, p.424)

In my view, one of the best responses to the accusations of Jewish claims to “racial Jewish superiority” is provided by my favourite Rabbi, Lord Jonathan Sacks. In his book Not in G-d’s Name (pp.198-199), he states, “A master race worships itself; a chosen people worships something beyond itself. A master race values power; a chosen people knows only that it has responsibilities....A master race produces....triumphant inscriptions and a literature of self-congratulations. Israel to a degree unique in history, produced a literature of almost uninterrupted self-criticism....”

The fact, as Rabbi Sacks words imply, is that the Jewish People is neither better, nor worse than others. It is, merely, different. "Ask any anti-semite," proposes Rabbi Yosi Goldman, "and he will confirm it." The notion of “Chosen People,” as our sages repeatedly state, means greater and, sometimes, even harsher responsibility, not privilege. This mission," continues, Rabbi Goldman, "has turned us into one of the most sensitive and humane nations on earth."

What could be better proof of such a conclusion than the fact that the hypocritical world constantly holds Yisrael to a higher moral standard than its neighbours, demanding that it adheres to a different set of ethical principles?

This is who we are! That is what we are! Regardless of how hard and burdensome being Jewish can be, I, personally, would not have it any other way.

Long live Yisrael and the Jewish People. Am Yisrael Chai

The Validation of Hope – the Core of Jewish Survival

 

         Pessimism is a luxury that a Jew can never allow himself – Golda Meir

Tragedy, unfortunately, is part of everyone’s life. Some heartbreaking experiences are more profound than others. All, however, touch us in every aspect of our life.

This week’s Parashah, Shmini, recounts a tragedy that befell Aharon, Moshe’s brother. The story is a mingle of great joy, cloaked with holiness but at the same time eclipsed and shrouded with loss and grief.

 It is the first of the month of Nissan and the dawning of a new day. Moshe and Bnei Yisrael are preparing to mark a great milestone in our history. After seven days of preparations and training,  Aharon and his sons are ready to receive the scepter of Priesthood, and the Mishkan (Tabernacle) is ready to be inaugurated.  

On the Eight day (Shmini) as Bnei Yisrael are gathering for the long-awaited ceremony, Moshe tells them, “For today, the Lord will appear to you” (Vayikra 9:4). He invites Aharon and his sons to offer a sacrifice to G-d. Shortly thereafter, the celebrations reach a climax with the spectacular appearance of the glory of G-d as fire came forth “from before the Lord and consumed upon the altar the burnt offering and the fat; and when all the people saw it, they shouted, and fell on their faces (Vayikra 9:24).

This spectacle full of reverence, bursting with holiness and ecstasy turns, in a flash, into a catastrophe. Without any warning “there came forth fire from before the Lord, and devoured” Avihu and Nadav, the sons of Aharon (10:2). G-d, it turns out, thy “offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, contrary to His demand” (10:1).

How does one respond to such a tragedy?

Moshe speaks first. “This is what the Lord spoke of when he said: ‘Among those who approach me, I will be proved holy; in sight of all the people I will be honoured’” (10:3). Rashi bases his interpretation of this verse on Midrash. According to him, “Moshe says to Aharon, ‘Aharon, my brother, I knew that the Mishkan will be sanctified by the presence of those who are close to G-d. I assumed that he meant either you or me; now I see that they (Nadav and Avihu) are greater than me and you.” In other words, the holier a person is, the greater are G-d’s exigencies of him.

Aharon remains silent. He is not complaining. He is not lamenting his bad fortune. His silence, in my view, reflects inner strength and the ability to confront difficult and painful realities.

Moshe moves on. He orders the removal of the bodies and briefs Aharon and his remaining sons about the laws of mourning. He also adds directives aimed at preventing the recurrence of such incidents and moves on to check if the sacrifices scheduled for that day were made.

Moshe turns to Aharon and tells him not to display publicly his mourning for fear that G-d may become angry with the entire community. “Know well,” he adds, “that your brethren, the entire House of Yisrael, shall bewail the burning that G-d has rekindled. Do not leave this place in the sanctuary,” he advises him, “for G-d’s anointing oil is upon you” (10:6-7). Aharon accepts Moshe’s words. His only concern, so it seems from verse 19, is that his silence not be interpreted as his possessing inhumane traits.

The psychological aspect of the exchanges between Moshe and Aharon, in the aftermath of the tragedy, is fascinating. In the first, Moshe, in his strong desire to console his brother who has just lost two sons, tells him that G-d “will display” His “holiness through those who come near” Him.

The second exchange is when Moshe directs the bereaved Aharon to remain in the Mishkan and continue to perform the duties of his role as Kohen Gadol (High Priest). One may understand Moshe’s words to mean that even though he feels Aharon’s pain, the latter is no longer a private person. On this critical day, the people need him to remain strong, guide them and conform to the role that he has been anointed to fulfill. Aharon, so it seems, is aware of the enormity of his position and despite his pain and anguish accepts it and resumes his duties, as prescribed by the protocol.

The intricacy of the account of this discourse captures, in my view, the essence of Jewish survival through our sanguineous history. Despite ongoing suffering, losses and death which have been the lot of our Jewish People, our desire to move on has never been extinguished. We have simply refused to give up. We could not afford to give up. The determination to ignite Hope at our darkest moments has been a beacon along the path of our historical timeline. It is the secret of our Jewish survival.

One modern day example which comes to mind and parallels the account of Aharon’s misfortune is the sad experience which befell the late general Raful (Refael Eitan) who was the IDF Chief of Staff, between the years 1978-1983. He was also very instrumental in planning and executing “Operation Opera,” the bombing of the Iraqi nuclear power plant in June 1981.

A month prior to the operation, his son Yoram, an IAF pilot was involved in a training accident. Raful was in Yerushalayim, in a government meeting, when it happened. Upon receiving the news, Raful left the meeting. He did not utter a word, just like Aharon in this week’s Parashah. His widow, Miriam, shared, years later, that Raful picked her from her office soon after he heard about the catastrophe but did not mention it until they reached their home. General Amos Yadlin, a pilot who partook in that operation, visited Raful’s home during the Shiv’a.  Just before Yadlin was about to leave, Raful caught him and said, “Don’t think that just because I am sitting Shiv’a, I will not come to the briefing.”

Like Aharon, Raful understood that he was not a private person and could not let his personal tragedy interfere with the important task that had been delegated to him. Yisrael needed him and counted on him just as Am Yisrael needed and counted on Aharon at the inauguration of the Mishkan. They were both entrusted and staunchly adhered to guiding and protecting Am Yisrael and the Jewish People as well as validating and keeping the spirit of Hope for a safer and better future for them.

Shabbat Shalom