What Does it Mean to be Jewish

As a first step towards strengthening our Ahavas Yisroel, we took notice of the greatness of every Yid, of our ability to appreciate him just for being a Yid. However, this is not a simple endeavor, and for many people, this did not instantly resonate with them. Ok, he is a Yid – so what?

We need to bear in mind the following important principle. People do not grow purely from inspiration, from actively chasing an ideal. We are all familiar with the experience of setting a realistic goal, a sincere kabala, and yet having it quickly fall to the wayside. We must feel the need for the midah we desire, we must feel a sense of inadequacy without it. Read any story of wilderness survival, and you are struck by the force of such desperate need. The most creative and ingenious solutions were only born of the pressing need for food, for shelter, for survival.

The Alter of Kelm identified the power of eisek, of being preoccupied with an issue, as a crucial component for self-development. This means that you sense where you are lacking, an area where you really want to grow, and yet you hold back, and wait. We are a problem-solving and goal-oriented society, and we do not appreciate the value of holding back, of living with a certain degree of tension. Instead of immediately implementing a solution, we need to contemplate, to mull the matter over in our minds constantly. When we allow this force, this subtle pressure, to percolate within us for weeks, months, or even years, it serves as the catalyst for true, inner growth.

This might be what is holding back our Ahavas Yisroel, as well. We recognize the Torah obligation, we know we are falling short, but this does not occupy us, it does not truly bother us. And if it does not fully occupy us, then we do not stand a chance of experiencing real change. 

But this only begs the obvious question. What are we to do, practically? How are we to develop such a mindset if we are not starting out with an innate interest in the topic, with a natural love for every Yid?

To appreciate another Yid, it is simpler to begin with our own lives. Do we appreciate our own status as Yidden? To answer this question, we might need to take another step back and ask ourselves a more basic question. “What does it mean to be a Yid?” I was born a Yid, that is wonderful, but is that all there is to it? 

Consider the following halacha. There are times that Beis Din forces an individual to comply with their order, even when the matter at hand requires his explicit consent. The Rambam famously explains that this apparent coercion is effective because the innermost desire of every Yid is to do what is right. “Rotzah lee’yos m’yisroel,” he wants to identify with his Yiddishkeit. Therefore, “rotzeh hu la’asos kol hamitzvos,” he wants to fulfill the mitzvos. The Rambam is clearly identifying two separate steps. This person wants to do the mitzvos, but his underlying desire is to be a Yid.

This is where we must work. I am not just Jewish by birth; I actively desire and pursue ways to identify as a Yid. But what does this mean to me? Yes, I can proudly proclaim that as a Yid, I am responsible for bringing awareness of Hashem to the entire world, for fulfilling the purpose of Creation. But these lofty ideas do not translate so easily into our regular lives. I need to identify as a Yid in my simple reality, in the normal routine of my daily life. In other words, my Yiddishkeit should impact everything I do. I need to eat like a Yid, to sleep like a Yid, to talk like a Yid. But what does this mean? What is “Jewish culture?” What is the uniquely Jewish way of eating, of speaking, of sleeping? It means that we do not merely indulge our senses, lowering ourselves to take care of our physical needs and desires. We seek to elevate them, to use them as a means towards an end. If you observe an adam gadol involved in any of these physical activities, you will see how he can remain aloof, how the activity does not consume or overtake him. Here are a few examples, some of which I merited seeing firsthand.

Rav Beinush Finkel ztz”l, the Mirrer Rosh Yeshiva, was particular that no photos should be taken of him while eating. One individual questioned him about this practice while attending a bris. “Isn’t this a seudas mitzva?” he asked. “Yes,” quipped Rav Beinush. “But the picture will record the ‘seuda’ for posterity, while the ‘mitzva’ will be forgotten…”

And how did Rav Beinush eat? He was calm and nonchalant, almost indifferent. One could barely see his mouth moving as he steadily made his way through his food. He was not a person involved with eating. He remained Rav Beinush, who happened to be eating.

I once stayed overnight with Rav Wolbe ztz”l in the same room. He slept in a bed with the formality that you would probably display before royalty.  He lay with both legs together, as if he were davening shmone esrei. He held his hand clenched tight, right next to him, and lay on his side, as if he were standing at attention. His entire being conveyed the attitude that he needed to rest, to restore his strength, and so he slept. He was like a reluctant participant, not fully engaged in the experience.

How do we usually eat and sleep? We open our mouths wide and eat with gusto. We sink into the mattress, relishing its comfort. We happily savor every last morsel, every aspect of all our sensory experiences. This is not how a Yid interacts with olam hazeh.

How does a Yid speak? I know how we tend to speak. Your friend barely opens his mouth, and you already interrupt him. You anticipate what he is going to say, and you even guess what he would respond to your own rejoinder, and you then jump right in, five steps ahead of whatever he wants to say. Hardly a respectful form of communication, but an all too common occurrence. 

The Torah teaches us how a Yid speaks. When the people of the shevatim of Gad and Reuvein approached Moshe Rabbeinu to suggest that they should not settle Eretz Yisroel with the rest of Klal Yisroel, Moshe rebuked them strongly. If you listen to their exchange, it becomes clear that they never intended to discourage the Yidden from entering Eretz Yisroel. On the contrary, they planned on joining and even leading the battles. We would expect them to immediately protest their innocence and explain their plan to Moshe. This is not what happens. They stood in silence, listening to what Moshe had to say, even though they knew they were in the right. Only after he finished did they respectfully explain their intentions. That is how a Yid speaks.

Let us not resort to shallow arguments, and dismiss these incidents as illustrations of the holiness, piety, or ascetic practices of these great people. Yes, they were special and holy, but there is something much more fundamental at play here. They simply lived a Jewish lifestyle, with Jewish values. They did not immerse themselves in physical experiences. They ate, and they slept, but they stayed somewhat above it, they did not lose themselves in their physicality, even temporarily.  

If you still have any doubt as to how Jewish behavior differs from the culture surrounding us, here is one more example. When the atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, members of the Manhattan project were waiting anxiously for a report of the success or failure of their mission. Eventually, word came through that the bomb had detonated, exactly as planned. Bear in mind that tens of thousands of innocent civilians had been wiped off this earth in an instant, with many more to die painful deaths in the days to come. With the full understanding of the import of their actions, this group of scientists – the crème de la crème of Western civilization – erupted into enthusiastic cheering and celebrated by popping open bottles of champagne. 

Contrast this with the behavior of a Beis Din, a court of Jewish Sages who must decide a capital case. Here is one individual whose life is at stake, and the court is convinced that he deserves the death penalty. Yet all the judges fast on the day they issue their final ruling, as they deliberate their decision with the utmost seriousness.

Should we be enticed, even slightly, to be one of them?! To achieve their accomplishments, to reach their fame and recognition… and to act like them? I am a Yid. I am proud to be a Yid, and I want to be a Yid, with everything that entails. The lofty missions entrusted to Klal Yisroel might not motivate us every single moment, but we certainly can aspire to actualize our Jewish identity. A Yid always brings something special to the table, a higher purpose to life. If we appreciate our own status as a Yid, we can come to appreciate another Yid, as well.

Have we solved our issue? Do we have an easy time appreciating our own Yiddishkeit? No, certainly not. Our own behavior, so different from the examples described earlier, testifies to the difficulty inherent in this task. But here lies the potential for real growth. We are not immediately running to resolve our dilemma. We remain as we are, preoccupied with the problem. We do not deny its existence, but we do not try to brush it away easily and quickly. We can then hope to gradually experience a shift within us, and develop true Ahavas Yisroel.