You have asked me what I think about Michael Chabon’s NY Times Op Ed piece of June 4, 2010, “Chosen But Not Special.” I liked the piece very much. It raised a lot of pertinent issues. I think I would do justice to it only if I took up each of the issues and gave my reaction to it, point by point.
First, let me address the Facebook byline: “Jews would be wise to abandon the myth of their exceptionalism.” This is a loaded question. If it means Jews should not be treated differently than anyone else because of their presumed difference—whether greater intelligence, greater suffering and entitlement, or the like—this is a truism. Everyone should be treated alike on the basis of their actions. But if it means that Jews are the same as anyone else, and any differences are so trivial as to be negligible, this is false. Everyone is different, and differences matter. Our differences are two-edged. We can welcome them benignly and take the opportunity they offer to enrich our experience, or we can take them invidiously and use them to foment envy and hatred. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks addresses this in his book, The Dignity of Difference. It is our responsibility as human beings to acknowledge the fact of difference and use it for good, not for evil.
Are Jews special? Yes. But it would be wrong to measure different people’s specialness and to try to figure out, is one more special than another? Though we cannot “know” God, we are right to imagine God as a loving parent whose children are all God’s creatures, all people, all living things. In the 18th century, the German Enlightenment philosopher and dramatist Gotthold Lessing expressed this in a parable that he put in the mouth of his hero of his play Nathan the Wise (a character he based on his Jewish friend Moses Mendelssohn): A father had three sons and one precious heirloom ring. He hesitated to give any of his sons preference by giving him the ring exclusively, so he had an expert jeweler make two replicas. Before his death, he took each son into confidence and said, “I am giving you this precious ring because I love you.” At the funeral, the three sons were wearing the three rings and were perplexed. They went to a judge to help determine, which son had the genuine ring? The judge answered: The one who behaves in a loving fashion to his brothers, his ring is the true ring. So we should each regard our specialness in the eyes of God. Our relation with God is unique because each of us is unique. God’s love for one of us cannot be measured as greater or lesser than God’s love for someone else, because that which is unique is not susceptible of measurement or comparison without impugning its uniqueness.
What about Jews and smartness (or wisdom)? I do not want to enter into the questions of comparative measurement of intelligence that Charles Murray and Kevin B. MacDonald (cited by Chabon) discuss. To dwell on such questions serves envy rather than enlightenment. I think it is perfectly fair, however, to say that Jews have traditionally valued wisdom and intellectual achievement, and this is one of the most important positive features and contributions of Jewish culture. The phenomenon of the Bar Mitzvah, which you have portrayed in your cinematic work, is symptomatic of this. It is not every culture that celebrates an adolescent’s coming-of-age by calling on that individual to give a display of intellectual competence. Matthew Arnold was on the right track in his Culture and Anarchy in contrasting Hebraism and Hellenism in terms of their ideals. Hebraism in his view cultivated righteousness, while Hellenism cultivated “sweetness and light” (art and philosophy). The cultures of the world are importantly different in their emphases on the panoply of human ideals as ideals and we should learn what we can from all of them. But in this inventory, it would be correct to say that in the ideals that it strove for, Judaism has valued intellect and wisdom. Whether it has always achieved it, is of course another question.
But is the fiasco of the Mavi Marmara to be chalked up to a lack of smartness? This is where I think that Chabon’s dry, tongue-in-cheek analysis is missing an important dimension. Even his reference to Chelm does not tell us the whole story about that phenomenon (and that may be the right place to start, as there is something very Chelm-like, though tragic, in the missteps of the current Israeli administration). The Jewish tradition does not speak of the “fools of Chelm” but of the “sages of Chelm.” The sages of Chelm were very ingenious in the application of their reason to solve puzzles, but they always came up with the wrong answers because they left out a crucial part of every problem they addressed. Indeed, the tradition of the Chelm stories may be read as a parody of the unworldly yeshiva students, learned in Talmud but ignorant in the ways of the world, who were therefore handicapped in their negotiation of reality. They were smart but not truly wise, for true wisdom must include breadth of experience and openness to viewpoints other than one’s own.
The current Israeli predicament reminds me of a different Talmudic story. Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Joshua were arguing whether a stove made of a particular amalgam of materials was susceptible of ritual impurity. Rabbi Eliezer ruled: “Pure.” Rabbi Joshua ruled: “Impure.”
Rabbi Eliezer said, “If the carob tree is on my side, let the carob tree uproot itself.” The carob tree uprooted itself. Rabbi Joshua retorted, “We do not admit evidence from a carob tree.”
Rabbi Eliezer said, “If the law is on my side, let the brook run backward.” The brook ran backward. Rabbi Joshua retorted, “We do not admit evidence from a brook.”
Rabbi Eliezer said, “If the law is on my side, let a voice from heaven prove it.” A voice from heaven announced: “The law is according to Rabbi Eliezer.” Rabbi Joshua retorted, “It is written: ‘It is not in heaven!’ Since the time that the Torah was given at Sinai, we do not listen to a heavenly voice, but we decide according to the majority.”
The story goes on to say that they ostracized Rabbi Eliezer for his failure to listen to the views of his colleagues.
Now, it is not said of Rabbi Eliezer that he was not smart. Indeed, he had a prodigious memory and remembered all the traditions of the previous generations. I am sure that his argument proving that he was right about the purity of the stove was intellectually impeccable—so solid, in fact, that a heavenly voice agreed with him! But he was not wise, because he did not learn from others. (“Who is wise? He who learns from everyone.”)
The more I think about what is missing from the thinking of the current Israeli leadership, the more it seems to me they are like Rabbi Eliezer. It is not stupidity or lack of smartness that is their problem, but close-mindedness, their lack of interest or responsiveness to viewpoints other than their own.
The rationale they give for their actions is factually and morally well-based every step of the way. Yes, the leaders of Gaza are by their own declaration at war with Israel. Yes, they fire rockets into Israel at every provocation (and no provocation). Yes, if they were given full open access to shipping, they would import weapons. Yes, if they had free ability to import metal and concrete, they could build their own weapons from them. Yes, the passengers on the Mavi Marmara attacked the Israeli commandos first, so when the commandos fired back, it was in self-defense and technically justified. Yes, when the Mavi Marmara was inspected after it arrived in Ashdod, it had weapons and large amounts of cash on board. All of which adds up logically, technically, to the conclusion: Israel acted in justified self-defense.
So why, they ask, are the nations of the world almost unanimously condemning Israel? Don’t they see the validity of their reasoning?
I want to say to them: Read the story of Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Joshua! The validity of internal reasoning is only one part of establishing the truth. The consensus of reasonable people is another equally valid part, and that is the part that is missing.
In particular, a moral law depends on consensus to be operable. If only a lone individual holds to a moral principle, it ceases to be an effective instrument in guiding humanity in their interactions. To act morally is to engage in a responsive dialogue with the people on the other side of the table until you have thrashed out common principles that can be binding both ways. It is to be engaged in reciprocal conduct that affirms the equal validity of both parties.
Admittedly, this is very difficult when the other party has refused, since the 1920s, to acknowledge your validity. But it is the only way. One must continue to talk to whoever will listen, the adversary or a third party, until reciprocity is achieved. One must listen to what they have to say, and keep sharing and listening, building bridges of understanding until a common perspective is achieved that will lead to a common plan of action. If one’s course of action is not achieving the desired results (as in the case of the siege of Gaza, which in three years has not advanced the Gazans toward a different regime, or the region to greater understanding), then it should be re-evaluated and a different course of action tried—in consultation with others, in an attempt to elicit their cooperation. This is what the current Israeli leadership has consistently failed to do, which has led to the current impasse. The “stupidity” (or lack of wisdom) was not what they did in this one latest instance. It was their obstinacy in their self-determined course of action, regardless of negative feedback, that led inevitably to being expressed in one crisis or another.
To declare one’s moral purity in isolation, regardless of the consensus of others, is to court ostracism. Rabbi Eliezer was ostracized for violating the mandate of reciprocity and consensus. The current Israeli leadership is courting ostracism by its willful adherence to its own view of the morality of its actions, in the face of the consensus to the contrary.
This is not stupidity. The policy and its justification are being pursued with the highest intelligence—equal to the famous intelligence of the sages of Chelm. But it is folly of another sort—the absence of wisdom, which must include openness to the views of other reasonable people.
I hope these reflections help you! Thanks for raising the questions.
Your cousin,
Lenny
