Epiphany. What is an epiphany? The dictionary defines it as “a sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden, intuitive realisation.”
Here is the story of an epiphany. It was Shavuos and we were in Jerusalem. We'd gone to lunch to a former leader of a major diaspora community. Together there was an Israeli diplomat as well as one of the leading figures in the Canadian Jewish community.
And the conversation turned - I remember, this is May 2001 - to the forthcoming and now notorious United Nations Conference Against Racism in Durban. It was not due to take place until August, but already we knew that it and the parallel gathering of NGOs was going to turn into a major assault on Israel's legitimacy.
The diplomat, seeing that we were all very depressed at this prospect, said – in order to cheer us up - that it was “ever thus”, because we are, in that phrase from this coming week’s parasha “Am levadad yischon” - a people that dwells alone.
It comes from Bilaam who, if you remember, was hired to curse the Jewish people and instead of doing that, blessed them. He said the following words:
How can I curse whom God has not cursed?
How shall I defy whom the Lord has not defied? From the top of rocks I see Him, and from the hills I behold Him.
It is an “Am lavadad yishkon” - a people that dwells alone, not reckoned among the nations.
Numbers 23:8-9
And hearing those words in that context, I had my epiphany, my sudden explosion of light. I suddenly saw how dangerous this phrase was to Jewish self-definition.
The trouble is that if you define yourself as a people that dwells alone, you are likely to find yourself alone, and that is not a safe place to be. “Are you sure?” I said to the diplomat, “that this is a blessing? Maybe it was a curse.”
Don't forget who said it. Bilaam. He was not exactly a friend of the Jewish people.He's one of the people mentioned in the Mishna as one of the four commoners who doesn't have a share in the World to Come.[1] We know from the Torah itself that having failed to curse the Israelites, he eventually did them great harm a different way.
“And remember,” I said, “what the Talmud says about Bilaam."
It says in the Gemara (Sanhedrin) that Kulam chazru lekellala[2] - all the blessings that Bilaam blessed the people with turned into curses. With one exception. (Namely, “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob”, the phrase that refers to shuls and houses of study.) But other than that, the rabbis were suggesting that everything Bilaam said was ambiguous so that his words could be interpreted as a blessing but actually meant as a curse.
Besides which levadad - being alone - is that good or bad?
In Judaism, there is a verse the first time the words “not good” appear in the Torah, in which it says the Lord God said “lo tov he’ut Adam Lavado” - “It's not good for man to be alone.” (Genesis 2:18)
What is more about, a leper the Torah says they must live alone. “Badad yeshev mechutz lemachane moshavo” – “He is bound to live outside the camp.” (Leviticus 13:46)
And, most famously, the word vadad [lonely] appears in the opening verse of the book of Eichah (Lamentations 1:1), “Eichah yashva vadad ha’ir rabati am” – “How lonely, how deserted is the city that was once full of people.”
So, except when the word “alone” appears in connection with God, almost always being alone in Tanach, in the Jewish Bible, is really a blessing. It is instead a curse. And I suddenly realised that the diplomat trying to give us comfort was actually saying something that is very dangerous.
It is obvious and natural to many people after the rise of antisemitism, after the Holocaust, after the way Jews were treated in Europe in the 19th and 20th centuries, to say that we are the people destined to be alone in the world. But that is not how the commentators understood phrase Am levadad yishkon, says Rashi, means that Jews are indestructible. According to Ibn Ezra it means that they don't assimilate. Ramban says, they maintain their own integrity. It doesn't mean that they're destined to be isolated without allies or friends. Nobody says this before the modern age.
That is not a destiny, let alone is it an identity. To be a Jew is to be loved by God. It is not to be hated by Gentiles.
Our ancestors were called on to be mamlechet kohanim vegoy kadosh - a holy nation and a kingdom of priests. The word kadosh means set apart. But to be set apart is one thing to be alone is another.
Leaders are set apart, but they aren't alone. If they were alone, they couldn't lead. They'd have nobody to lead.
Artists, musicians, athletes, tennis players. Given Wimbledon, they live apart. They practise. They're preparing for a big performance, but they're not alone. When they are apart, they're doing so for a reason. It allows them to focus their energies, to hone and refine their skills. But being apart is not an existential condition, an inevitable isolation.
There is no suggestion in the Torah that Jews are destined to live alone. God says to Abraham, “through you all the families of the earth will be blessed.” Abraham was different from his neighbours, but he prayed for them. He fought battles on their behalf. He was different, but he wasn't alone.
For some time now - and that Durban conference was really one of the earliest signs of it - the Jewish people, Israel, Diaspora Jewry, has faced international isolation. Shechita is under attack in Holland. Brit Mila is under attack in San Francisco. Battles we thought we had won for freedom as Jews, whether individually in the diaspora or collectively and nationally in the State of Israel, we are discovering we're going to have to fight all over again. But those fights are important fights, they're good fights, fights whose outcome will affect more than Jews. Because the truth is, in ancient times Israel was a small nation surrounded by large empires. In the Middle Ages, they were the most conspicuous minority in Christian Europe. Today in the Middle East, Israel is the country, the most conspicuous country that is not Muslim. Jews are the archetypal “other”. We don't fit into the dominant paradigm, the majority faith, the prevailing culture. And that is what we're there for, not just for ourselves, but for humanity. To remind ourselves that there is such a thing as the dignity of dissent.
That's what we do in life. We challenge, we argue. We stand out against the crowd, we go against the trend. We are apart. But we are not destined to be alone.
It is no accident that the story of Avram… does anyone know what comes before the story of Avram in the Torah? Immediately prior to that is the story of the Tower of Babel. You remember how the Tower of Babel begins “Vayehi kol ha’aretz safa echat udevarim achadim” – “The whole world had a shared language, and they all said the same things” (Genesis 11:1).
And as the Netziv, Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin said, if everyone thinks the same thing and there's no dissent, that is not a free society.
So we are there to be different for the sake of everyone's right to be different. We fight for the right to be, whether as a nation, in its historic land or as a religious group in the diaspora. We fight for the right to be free, to live as Jews, not just for our sake but for the sake of every other minority in the world. Every other small people surrounded by empires, everyone who seeks the right to challenge the prevailing culture or the dominant faith. That is why we are there.
So as we prepare ourselves for the next battle in the fight for freedom, which we still have to fight again, it is vitally important to know, number one: We're not doing this just for ourselves alone. And number two: to know that we are not destined to be without friends or allies. We will have friends, we will have good allies, if we go out and win them. But if we think it is our destiny to be alone, we'll probably land up alone. That is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
So, guys, don't forget, it's lonely being alone. It is not our destiny. It is not a blessing. It was a curse by somebody who didn't think the very best of us. Never believe that it is our destiny to be alone. Let us go out and make friends. And we will find them.
Shabbat Shalom.
[1] See Mishneh Sanhedrin 10:2, “Three kings and four commoners have no portion in the World to Come… four commoners, viz. Bilaam, Doeg, Achitophel, and Gehazi.”
[2] Sanhedrin 105b
A People That Dwells Alone?
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Epiphany. What is an epiphany? The dictionary defines it as “a sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something. A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden, intuitive realisation.”
Here is the story of an epiphany. It was Shavuos and we were in Jerusalem. We'd gone to lunch to a former leader of a major diaspora community. Together there was an Israeli diplomat as well as one of the leading figures in the Canadian Jewish community.
And the conversation turned - I remember, this is May 2001 - to the forthcoming and now notorious United Nations Conference Against Racism in Durban. It was not due to take place until August, but already we knew that it and the parallel gathering of NGOs was going to turn into a major assault on Israel's legitimacy.
The diplomat, seeing that we were all very depressed at this prospect, said – in order to cheer us up - that it was “ever thus”, because we are, in that phrase from this coming week’s parasha “Am levadad yischon” - a people that dwells alone.
It comes from Bilaam who, if you remember, was hired to curse the Jewish people and instead of doing that, blessed them. He said the following words:
And hearing those words in that context, I had my epiphany, my sudden explosion of light. I suddenly saw how dangerous this phrase was to Jewish self-definition.
The trouble is that if you define yourself as a people that dwells alone, you are likely to find yourself alone, and that is not a safe place to be. “Are you sure?” I said to the diplomat, “that this is a blessing? Maybe it was a curse.”
Don't forget who said it. Bilaam. He was not exactly a friend of the Jewish people.He's one of the people mentioned in the Mishna as one of the four commoners who doesn't have a share in the World to Come.[1] We know from the Torah itself that having failed to curse the Israelites, he eventually did them great harm a different way.
“And remember,” I said, “what the Talmud says about Bilaam."
It says in the Gemara (Sanhedrin) that Kulam chazru lekellala[2] - all the blessings that Bilaam blessed the people with turned into curses. With one exception. (Namely, “How goodly are your tents, O Jacob”, the phrase that refers to shuls and houses of study.) But other than that, the rabbis were suggesting that everything Bilaam said was ambiguous so that his words could be interpreted as a blessing but actually meant as a curse.
Besides which levadad - being alone - is that good or bad?
In Judaism, there is a verse the first time the words “not good” appear in the Torah, in which it says the Lord God said “lo tov he’ut Adam Lavado” - “It's not good for man to be alone.” (Genesis 2:18)
What is more about, a leper the Torah says they must live alone. “Badad yeshev mechutz lemachane moshavo” – “He is bound to live outside the camp.” (Leviticus 13:46)
And, most famously, the word vadad [lonely] appears in the opening verse of the book of Eichah (Lamentations 1:1), “Eichah yashva vadad ha’ir rabati am” – “How lonely, how deserted is the city that was once full of people.”
So, except when the word “alone” appears in connection with God, almost always being alone in Tanach, in the Jewish Bible, is really a blessing. It is instead a curse. And I suddenly realised that the diplomat trying to give us comfort was actually saying something that is very dangerous.
It is obvious and natural to many people after the rise of antisemitism, after the Holocaust, after the way Jews were treated in Europe in the 19th and 20th centuries, to say that we are the people destined to be alone in the world. But that is not how the commentators understood phrase Am levadad yishkon, says Rashi, means that Jews are indestructible. According to Ibn Ezra it means that they don't assimilate. Ramban says, they maintain their own integrity. It doesn't mean that they're destined to be isolated without allies or friends. Nobody says this before the modern age.
That is not a destiny, let alone is it an identity. To be a Jew is to be loved by God. It is not to be hated by Gentiles.
Our ancestors were called on to be mamlechet kohanim vegoy kadosh - a holy nation and a kingdom of priests. The word kadosh means set apart. But to be set apart is one thing to be alone is another.
Leaders are set apart, but they aren't alone. If they were alone, they couldn't lead. They'd have nobody to lead.
Artists, musicians, athletes, tennis players. Given Wimbledon, they live apart. They practise. They're preparing for a big performance, but they're not alone. When they are apart, they're doing so for a reason. It allows them to focus their energies, to hone and refine their skills. But being apart is not an existential condition, an inevitable isolation.
There is no suggestion in the Torah that Jews are destined to live alone. God says to Abraham, “through you all the families of the earth will be blessed.” Abraham was different from his neighbours, but he prayed for them. He fought battles on their behalf. He was different, but he wasn't alone.
For some time now - and that Durban conference was really one of the earliest signs of it - the Jewish people, Israel, Diaspora Jewry, has faced international isolation. Shechita is under attack in Holland. Brit Mila is under attack in San Francisco. Battles we thought we had won for freedom as Jews, whether individually in the diaspora or collectively and nationally in the State of Israel, we are discovering we're going to have to fight all over again. But those fights are important fights, they're good fights, fights whose outcome will affect more than Jews. Because the truth is, in ancient times Israel was a small nation surrounded by large empires. In the Middle Ages, they were the most conspicuous minority in Christian Europe. Today in the Middle East, Israel is the country, the most conspicuous country that is not Muslim. Jews are the archetypal “other”. We don't fit into the dominant paradigm, the majority faith, the prevailing culture. And that is what we're there for, not just for ourselves, but for humanity. To remind ourselves that there is such a thing as the dignity of dissent.
That's what we do in life. We challenge, we argue. We stand out against the crowd, we go against the trend. We are apart. But we are not destined to be alone.
It is no accident that the story of Avram… does anyone know what comes before the story of Avram in the Torah? Immediately prior to that is the story of the Tower of Babel. You remember how the Tower of Babel begins “Vayehi kol ha’aretz safa echat udevarim achadim” – “The whole world had a shared language, and they all said the same things” (Genesis 11:1).
And as the Netziv, Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin said, if everyone thinks the same thing and there's no dissent, that is not a free society.
So we are there to be different for the sake of everyone's right to be different. We fight for the right to be, whether as a nation, in its historic land or as a religious group in the diaspora. We fight for the right to be free, to live as Jews, not just for our sake but for the sake of every other minority in the world. Every other small people surrounded by empires, everyone who seeks the right to challenge the prevailing culture or the dominant faith. That is why we are there.
So as we prepare ourselves for the next battle in the fight for freedom, which we still have to fight again, it is vitally important to know, number one: We're not doing this just for ourselves alone. And number two: to know that we are not destined to be without friends or allies. We will have friends, we will have good allies, if we go out and win them. But if we think it is our destiny to be alone, we'll probably land up alone. That is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
So, guys, don't forget, it's lonely being alone. It is not our destiny. It is not a blessing. It was a curse by somebody who didn't think the very best of us. Never believe that it is our destiny to be alone. Let us go out and make friends. And we will find them.
Shabbat Shalom.
[1] See Mishneh Sanhedrin 10:2, “Three kings and four commoners have no portion in the World to Come… four commoners, viz. Bilaam, Doeg, Achitophel, and Gehazi.”
[2] Sanhedrin 105b
Main Essay
The dictionary defines epiphany as “a sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something; a comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realisation.” This is the story of an epiphany I experienced one day in May 2001, and it changed my perception of the Jewish fate.
It was Shavuot and we were in Jerusalem. We had gone for lunch to a former lay leader of a major Diaspora community. Also present at the table was an Israeli diplomat, together with one of the leaders of the Canadian Jewish Community.
The conversation turned to the then forthcoming – now notorious – United Nations’ Conference against Racism at Durban. Though the conference would not take place until August, we already knew that it, and the parallel gathering of NGOs, would turn into a diatribe against Israel, marking a new phase in the assault against its legitimacy.
The diplomat, noting that the conversation had taken a pessimistic turn, and being a religious man, sought to comfort us. “It was ever thus,” he said, and then quoted a famous phrase: “We are ‘am levadad yishkon’, the people that dwells alone.”
It comes from this week’s parsha. Bilaam, hired to curse the Jewish people, instead repeatedly blesses them. In his first utterance he says to King Balak King of Moab:
Hearing these words in that context I experienced an explosion of light in the brain. I suddenly saw how dangerous this phrase is, and how close it runs the risk of being a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you define yourself as the people that dwells alone, you are likely to find yourself alone. That is not a safe place to be.
“Are you sure,” I said to the diplomat, “that this was a blessing, not a curse? Remember who said it. It was Bilaam, and he is not known as a friend of the Jews.” Bilaam is one of the people mentioned in the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 10:2) as having no share in the world to come. Having failed to curse the Israelites, he eventually did them great harm (Num. 31:16).
“Remember,” I continued, “what the Talmud says in Sanhedrin (105b), that all the blessings with which Bilaam blessed the Jewish people turned into curses with the sole exception of the phrase, ‘How good are your tents, Jacob, your homes, O Israel’” (Num. 24:5). The Rabbis suggest that Bilaam was deliberately ambiguous in what he said, so that his words could be understood as blessings but also had another and darker meaning.
“Nor,” I said, “is badad, being alone, a good place to be according to the Torah. The first time the words “not good” appear in the Torah are in the phrase Lo tov heyot ha’adam levado, ‘It is not good for man to be alone’ (Gen. 2:18). About a leper the Torah says, badad yeshev michutz lamachaneh moshavo, ‘He shall dwell alone, outside the camp’ (Lev. 13:46). When the book of Lamentations seeks to describe the tragedy that has overtaken the Jewish people it says Eichah yashva vadad ha-ir rabati am, ‘How alone is the city once filled with people’ (Lam. 1:1). Except in connection with God, being alone is rarely a blessing.
What I suddenly saw, when I heard the diplomat seeking to give us comfort, was how dangerous this Jewish self-definition had become. It seemed to sum up the Jewish condition in the light of antisemitism and the Holocaust. But that is not how the commentators understood the phrase. Rashi says it means that Jews are indestructible. Ibn Ezra says it means that they don’t assimilate. Ramban says it means that they maintain their own integrity. It does not mean that they are destined to be isolated, without allies or friends. That is not a blessing but a curse. That is not a destiny; still less is it an identity.
To be a Jew is to be loved by God; it is not to be hated by Gentiles. Our ancestors were called on to be “a kingdom of Priests and a holy nation.” The word kadosh, “holy,” means set apart. But there is a profound difference between being apart and being alone.
Leaders are set apart, but they are not alone. If they really were alone, they could not be leaders. Athletes, writers, actors, singers, pianists may live apart when they are preparing for a major performance, but they are not alone. Their apartness is purposeful. It allows them to focus their energies, hone and refine their skills. It is not an existential condition, a chosen and willed isolation.
There is no suggestion in the Torah that Jews will live alone. God says to Abraham, “Through you all the families of the earth will be blessed.” Abraham was different from his neighbours, but he fought for them and prayed for them. He was apart but not alone.
For some time now – the Durban conference was one sign of it – Israel and Diaspora Jewry have faced growing isolation. Israel has been the object of a sustained campaign of delegitimisation. Meanwhile, shechittah is under attack in Holland, and brit milah in San Francisco. Battles we thought we had won for the freedom to live as Jews, individually in the Diaspora, nationally and collectively in the state of Israel, are now having to be fought all over again.
These are important fights, good fights, whose outcome will affect more than Jews. In ancient times, Israel was a small nation surrounded by large empires. In the Middle Ages, Jews were the most conspicuous minority in a Christian Europe. Today the State of Israel is a vulnerable enclave in a predominantly Muslim Middle East.
Jews have long been cast in the role of the ‘Other’, the one who does not fit into the dominant paradigm, the majority faith, the prevailing culture. One of Judaism’s central themes is the dignity of dissent. Jews argue, challenge, question. Sometimes they do so even with God Himself. That is why the fate of Jews in any given time and place is often the best index of freedom in that time and place.
It is no accident that the story of Abraham begins immediately after the biblical account of the Tower of Babel, which opens with the words, “Now the whole world had one language and a common speech.” Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin (Netziv) says that this means that there was no dissent. There was an enforced uniformity of opinion. Such a society leaves no room for dialogue, debate, disagreement and difference, the things essential for freedom.
When, therefore, Jews fight for the right to be, whether as a nation in its historic home, or as a religious group in other societies, they fight not for themselves alone but for human freedom as a whole. It was the Catholic writer Paul Johnson who wrote that Jews are “exemplars and epitomisers of the human condition. They seemed to present all the inescapable dilemmas of man in a heightened and clarified form… It seems to be the role of the Jews to focus and dramatise these common experiences of mankind, and to turn their particular fate into a universal moral.”
As we prepare ourselves for the next battle in the long fight for freedom it is vitally important not to believe in advance that we are destined to be alone, to find ourselves without friends and allies, confronting a world that neither understands us nor is willing to grant us a place to live our faith and shape our future in loyalty to our past. If we are convinced we will fail, we probably will. That is why the Rabbis were right to suggest that Bilaam’s words were not necessarily well-meant.
To be different is not necessarily to be alone. Indeed, it is only by being what we uniquely are that we contribute to humankind what we alone can give. Singular, distinctive, countercultural – yes: these are part of the Jewish condition. But alone? No. That is not a blessing but a curse.
With thanks to the Schimmel Family for their generous sponsorship of Covenant & Conversation, dedicated in loving memory of Harry (Chaim) Schimmel.
Descartes’ Error
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