SEPTEMBER 7 • 2023 | 45
our range of legitimate choices,
with grave consequences if we
transgress. Had we not been
Jewish, we could have worked
on Shabbat, eaten non-kosher
food and so on. You can
confer a benefit upon someone
without their consent, but not
a liability.
In short, this is the question
of questions of Jewish identity.
How can we be bound by
Jewish law, without our choice,
merely because our ancestors
agreed on our behalf?
WHY STAY JEWISH?
In my book Radical Then,
Radical Now I pointed out
how fascinating it is to trace
exactly when and where this
question was asked. Despite
the fact that everything else
depends on it, it was not asked
often. For the most part, Jews
did not ask the question,
“Why be Jewish?” The answer
was obvious. My parents are
Jewish. My grandparents were
Jewish. So I am Jewish. Identity
is something most people in
most ages take for granted.
It did, however, become an
issue during the Babylonian
exile. The prophet Ezekiel
says, “What is in your mind
shall never happen — the
thought, ‘Let us be like the
nations, like the tribes of the
countries, and worship wood
and stone’” (Ez. 20:32). This
is the first reference to Jews
actively seeking to abandon
their identity.
It happened again in
rabbinic times. We know
that in the second century
BCE there were Jews who
Hellenised, seeking to become
Greek rather than Jewish.
There were others who,
under Roman rule, sought
to become Roman. Some
even underwent an operation
known as epispasm to reverse
the effects of circumcision
(in Hebrew they were known
as meshuchim) to hide the fact
that they were Jews.
The third time was in
Spain in the 15th century.
That is where we find two
Bible commentators, Rabbi
Isaac Arama and Rabbi Isaac
Abarbanel, raising precisely the
question we have raised about
how the covenant can bind
Jews today. The reason they ask
it while earlier commentators
did not was that in their time
— between 1391 and 1492 —
there was immense pressure
on Spanish Jews to convert
to Christianity, and as many
as a third may have done so
(they were known in Hebrew
as the anusim, in Spanish as
the conversos and derogatively
as marranos, “swine”). The
question “Why stay Jewish?”
was real.
The answers given were
different at different times.
Ezekiel’s answer was blunt: “
As
I live, declares the Lord God,
surely with a mighty hand and
an outstretched arm and with
wrath poured out I will be
King over you” (Ezek. 20:33).
In other words, Jews might
try to escape their destiny,
but they would fail. Even if it
were against their will, they
would always be known as
Jews. That, tragically, is what
happened during the two
great ages of assimilation,
15th-century Spain and in
Europe in the 19th and early
20th centuries. In both cases,
racial antisemitism persisted,
and Jews continued to be
persecuted.
The Sages answered the
question mystically. They said
that even the souls of Jews
not-yet-born were present
at Sinai and ratified the
covenant (Exodus Rabbah
28:6). Every Jew, in other
words, did give their consent
in the days of Moses even
though they had not yet been
born. Demystifying this,
perhaps the Sages meant that
in their innermost hearts,
even the most assimilated Jew
knew that they were Jewish.
That seems to have been the
case with public figures like
Heinrich Heine and Benjamin
Disraeli, who lived as
Christians but often wrote and
thought as Jews.
The 15th-century Spanish
commentators found this
answer problematic. As Arama
said, we are each of us both
body and soul. How then is it
sufficient to say that our soul
was present at Sinai? How can
the soul obligate the body? Of
course the soul agrees to the
covenant. Spiritually, to be a
Jew is a privilege, and you can
confer a privilege on someone
without their consent. But for
the body, the covenant is a
burden. It involves all sorts
of restrictions on physical
pleasures. Therefore, if the
souls of future generations
were present but not their
bodies, this would not
constitute consent.
Radical Then, Radical
Now is my answer to this
question. But perhaps there
is a simpler one. Not every
obligation that binds us is
one to which we have freely
given our assent. There are
obligations that come with
birth. The classic example is
a crown prince or princess. To
be the heir to a throne involves
a set of duties and a life of
service to others. It is possible
to neglect these duties. In
extreme circumstances, it is
even possible for a monarch
to abdicate. But no one can
choose to be heir to a throne.
That is a fate, a destiny, that
comes with birth.
The people of whom God
Himself said, “My child, My
firstborn, Israel” (Ex. 4:22)
knows itself to be royalty. That
may be a privilege. It may be a
burden. It is almost certainly
both. It is a peculiar post-
Enlightenment delusion to
think that the only significant
things about us are those we
choose. For the truth is that
we do not choose some of the
most important facts about
ourselves. We did not choose
to be born. We did not choose
our parents. We did not choose
the time and place of our birth.
Yet each of these affects who
we are and what we are called
on to do.
We are part of a story that
began long before we were
born and will continue long
after we are no longer here,
and the question for all of
us is: Will we continue the
story? The hopes of a hundred
generations of our ancestors
rest on our willingness to do
so. Deep in our collective
memory the words of Moses
continue to resonate. “It is not
with you alone that I am
making this sworn covenant,
but with … whoever is not
here with us today.”
We are each a key player
in this story. We can live it.
We can abandon it. But it is a
choice we cannot avoid, and
it has immense consequences.
The future of the covenant
rests with us.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948-
2020) was a global religious leader,
philosopher, the author of more than
25 books and moral voice for our time.
His series of essays on the weekly
Torah portion, entitled “Covenant &
Conversation” will continue to be shared
and distributed around the world.