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Symposium
By Lawrence Kelemen
Jewish History as a Mixture
of the Natural and the Supernatural
Twenty years ago, standing on the wet, beautifully
tended grass at the Babi Yar ravine, I imagined that I understood
Jewish history. I believed it was a story driven by dual
mechanisms—one natural, the other Divine.
I believed that the Holocaust and other dark times in
Jewish history were just products of a natural mechanism—
what I dubbed, “the Law of Evolution of Nations.” This law
read: Any nation survives until its fitness is successfully challenged
by its neighbors, and then it passes out of existence.
Eventually, every nation experiences a moment of weakness,
and then it disappears. As evidence that holocausts are normal,
I adduced the respective downfalls of Assyria,
Babylonia, Greece, Rome, Persia and other fallen civilizations
right through the Soviet Union. All these nations experienced
their respective sunsets—their holocausts. The
Jewish Holocaust was also the result of a natural mechanism
that Jewry shared with the rest of the world. This view is
shared by respectable Jewish scholars to this day.
However, simultaneous with this natural mechanism, a
supernatural mechanism was operative, which ensured
Jewish survival. This mechanism helped explain the unusual
circumstances that invariably allowed the Jews to escape
total annihilation—like 185,000 Assyrian soldiers dying the
night before their planned conquest of Jerusalem in 701
BCE, or the mighty Greek army’s irrational retreat in the
face of a handful of Maccabees in 164 BCE or the 1948 CE
defeat of the five most powerful mechanized armies in the
Middle East by a ragged band of Holocaust survivors, only
about half of whom actually had guns.
My theory was that God made a covenant with Jewry, measure
for measure: To the extent that we cling to supernatural
law and lift ourselves beyond the realm of natural instinct, God
promises that He will hold us above the natural mill grinding
nations out of existence. Jewish survival is thus quid pro quo.
Secularism is natural, but every Torah commandment conflicts
with human nature. It is natural to partake of whatever we
want, whenever we want it; it is natural to live selfishly; and it is
natural to express anger when someone does not behave as we
wish. When we, as a nation, climb above human nature by
allowing the Torah to guide our choices, we reach escape velocity
and soar beyond nature, hovering above the universe’s natural,
destructive forces. This is how I understood the verse
promising that the “Torah is a tree of life for those who cling to
it.” The Torah is a rope from heaven. When the Jewish nation
grasps it, our feet dangle just above the maelstrom.
Jewish History as Purely Supernatural
The idea that holocausts are natural sounds very reasonable
when all you have is a university education behind you and a
beautifully tended ravine in front of you. Neither conveys the
unique fury in an anti-Semite’s face, or the absolute apathy of
our “supportive” neighbors or the humiliation, the degradation
or the terror. The peaceful, picturesque boardwalk at Babi Yar does not assist us in conjuring up visions of what it
sounded and looked like sixty years ago when, in only fortyeight
hours, 34,000 Jewish men, women and children were
stripped, beaten, driven into the ravine, forced to lie face
down and machine-gunned to death. The classroom and the
history books also have a way of dulling the picture’s resolution.
There is something sobering about the reality—about
staring at the meat hooks on which live Jews were hung at
Mauthausen, watching Palestinians dancing through the
streets of Ramallah waving the entrails of Israeli reserve officers and witnessing the slow and deliberate decapitations of
Jewish boys like Daniel Pearl and Nicholas Berg. Not that
only Jews have been tortured, disemboweled and decapitated,
but there is something unique about the way the world
relates to Jews that one detects only when witnessing anti-
Semitism in real-time, something subtle that is absent from
most academic discussions of the phenomenon.
In our generation we have seen innocent Gentiles slaughtered
around the world, from Sudan to Indonesia and from
Chechnya to the Congo. But we—who read about these events
not just in history books, but also in the morning paper—know
that these non-Jewish victims were invariably killed only
because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They
were not hunted down from country to country and sent to
international extermination centers; neither were they made
into soap and lampshades. Jews are treated differently.
The world’s feelings toward the Jewish State are significant in
this regard. In modern times, Israel is “The Jew,” and the world
now relates to the Jewish State the way it has always related to
individual members of our people. The European Union recently
called Israel the “greatest threat to world peace on the planet.”
Not North Korea, despite its explicit nuclear threats to the West
and wholesale export of uranium to Libya et al. Not Russia, who
has been providing nuclear technology to Iran and other rogue
states. Not Iran or Syria who sponsor terror organizations on
three continents. Israel. The United Nations General Assembly, a
microcosm of mankind, has issued more condemnations of the
only democracy in the Middle East than it has against any other
nation on the planet. The General Assembly has not yet critiqued
Sudan for punishing shoplifters with cross-amputation, China for
harvesting organs from political prisoners or Saudi Arabia for
banning the practice of any religion besides Islam, but it has
devoted 60 percent of its emergency sessions to the purported
misdeeds of Israel—including crimes like Israel’s preemptive
attack on Egypt in 1956 and its recent construction of a fence to
keep suicide bombers out of Jewish population centers.
Strangely, the General Assembly has never passed a resolution
condemning anti-Semitism. When, in 1964-65, the American delegation
tried to include a reference to anti-Semitism in the UN’s
International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial
Discrimination, the effort failed because of widespread protests at
the UN that anti-Semitism was a question not of race but of religion;
and in 2003, when the UN drafted its Resolution on Religious
Intolerance, the term anti-Semitism was left out because, as the Irish
delegate explained with a straight face, “It is more properly considered
under the rubric of race.” When Daniel Bernard, the French
ambassador to England, at a London dinner party criticized Israel
for its continuing presence in Gaza and the West Bank, calling the
Jewish State “a ____ little country,” the Zionist philosopher Hillel
Halkin reacted with shock: “Who at London dinner parties makes
nasty remarks about Hindus because India has militarily occupied
Muslim Kashmir for half a century? Would a French diplomat call
China a ‘big, ____ country’ because of its occupation of Tibet?”
Halkin, a man who put all his faith in Theodore Hertzl’s
promise that having our own state would restore the Jews to
the family of man, recently confessed publicly that Zionism’s
failure “is a bitter reality to accept.” The State has not normalized
Jewish existence. If anything, it has just become a
convenient and visible target for a destructive force that
throughout history has defied rational explanation.
The theory I relied upon for so long—that anti-Semitism is a
natural phenomenon, another ordinary hatred—rings hollow
when The Protocols of the Elders of Zion and The Passion of the Christ
are your generation’s form of entertainment. At some point I had to
accept that just as there is nothing natural about the details of
Jewish survival, there is nothing natural about the details of Jewish
destruction. I needed a new explanation of Jewish history, and I
found it in a book written nearly 2,000 years ago.
Jewish Tradition on Survival and Destruction
The Talmud (Ketubot 66b) provides an eyewitness
account of Jerusalem just after the Romans destroyed the
city. Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai and his students were
wandering amidst the rubble when they saw a starving
Jewish woman picking undigested barley grains out of
donkey dung. The woman, the daughter of one of
Jerusalem’s wealthiest Jews before the destruction, told
Rabbi Yochanan that her family had lost their fortune
because of the failure to properly tithe their wealth. Rabbi
Yochanan burst into tears and exclaimed:
How fortunate are the Jews! When they do the will of the
Omnipresent One, no nation or tongue rules them; and when
they fail to do the will of the Omnipresent One, He places
them into the care of . . . the animals of a degraded nation.
Instead of caring for other people, or even other animals,
we survive by animals “caring for us,” by providing us with
their feces. Our God-given role is to care for the world, and
we do this by mastering the Torah and observing its mitzvot.
When we reject the giving role—the role of caring for others—
we suddenly find ourselves needing to take, needing others
to care for us. It is degrading to sink from donor to recipient. It
is even more degrading to sink so low that our sponsors are not
human at all—to fall to a spiritual status in which our survival
is only facilitated by the generous donations of donkeys.
Rabbi Yochanan understood that both conditions reflect
Jewry’s good fortune. Every other nation has been handed
over to an intermediary, to nature. There are natural limits
on how high a nation can soar and for how long, and there
are natural limits on how low they can sink and how much
they can be tortured. The fortune of every other nation has
a floor and a ceiling. Not so for the Jews. Our relationship
with the Almighty is too intimate, and real intimacy cannot
flourish through an intermediary. We are God’s beloved,
and He is our bashert. When our nation clings to God—
when we study His Torah as if it were a love-letter and
observe His mitzvot lishmah (for their own sake)—we find
ourselves dancing with Him, high above the world of
mazal. If chas vechalilah (God forbid) Jewry lets go of God,
if we view His Torah as nothing more than a text for semichah-
degree programs and His mitzvot as 613 problems that
we must “be yotzei,” there is no natural safety net; there is
no limit to how far we can fall. Then we experience horrors
that would be impossible within the natural realm.
Rabbi Yochanan was able to see our good fortune, our
shidduch, even in the midst of the maelstrom. He understood
that just as nature does not constitute a ceiling for the Jews, so
too it provides no floor. When you are betrothed to the Almighty,
there are no natural rules. In this regard, we are His personal
treasure, His am segulah (treasured nation).
origin:
Jewish Action FALL 2004/5765 - Volume 65, No. 1
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homepage: LawrenceKelemen.com
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