A priest says to his friend, the rabbi, that he has a perfect way of eating for free in restaurants.
"I go in at well past 9 o'clock in the evening, eat several courses slowly, linger over coffee, port, and a cigar.
Come to 2:00 AM, as they are clearing everything away, I just keep sitting there until eventually a waiter comes up and asks me to pay.
Then I say: 'I've already paid your colleague who has left.' Because I am a man of the cloth, they take my word for it, and I leave."
The rabbi is impressed, and says: "Let's try it together this evening."
So the priest books them into a restaurant and comes at 2 o'clock they are both still quietly sitting there after a very full meal.
Sure enough, a waiter comes over and asks them to pay. The priest just says:
"I've already paid your colleague who has left."
And the rabbi adds: "And we are still waiting for the change!"
When Jacob left his father’s home in Be’er Sheva and set out for Charan, he was alone, a penniless pauper fleeing for his life. Twenty-two years later, he returned a wealthy man, with a large and growing family, an army of servants, and immense flocks of sheep and cattle. G-d’s promise to him—“I shall be will you, and protect you wherever you will go, and bring you back to this land”—had been fulfilled in every respect.
This is what he says to G-d in the opening of the weekly portion Vayishlach:
I have become small by all the kindnesses and by all the truth that You have done Your servant, for with my staff I crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps.
But if I would shower you with kindness, wealth, and blessing would you feel small as a result? You might feel grateful, thankful, indebted; but why small? On the contrary, you would feel large, successful, capable; you would feel your worth and value! What did Jacob mean by these words? Even if you feel you are undeserving of so much blessing, does it makes you feel small? It makes you feel loved, important, and valued!
The Ramban, render the following translation: “I am too small to have deserved all the kindness.” It is not a literal reading, but it solves the difficulty.
Rashi explains “My merits have become small from all of the kindness.” Jacob was feeling that all of the merits he gained during his lifetime have decreased as a result of G-d’s grace.
It was Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745-1812), The founder of Chabad who reads the verse straightforwardly and presents a remarkable insight. It is in this single word “I have become small,” that Jacob articulated one of the most central themes in Judaism, namely the concept of the Chosen People.
CP (Chosen People) is just not PC (politically correct).
To us, It sounds racist. And it sounds irrational, if not bizarre. In an age when we try to promote equality and universalism, embracing the notion that all men and women are created equal, deserving of liberty, dignity, and equal rights for all, the notion of CP seems divisive, dangerous, and hazardous.
In truth, of course, Jewish chosenness cannot be racist by definition. The Jews are not a race; there are Jews of every race.
Nazi Germany was more concerned with exterminating the Jews than with winning World War II.
Throughout its 70-year history, the Soviet Union persecuted its Jews and tried to extinguish Judaism. Hatred of Jews was the only thing Communists and Nazis shared.
The United Nations has spent more time discussing and condemning the Jewish state than any other country in the world. Yet this state is smaller than every Central American country, including El Salvador, Panama, and even Belize. Much of the contemporary Muslim world — and nearly all the Arab world — is obsessed with annihilating the lone Jewish state.
Without the Jews, there would be no Christianity and no Islam. Read Thomas Cahill’s “The Gifts of the Jews” or Paul Johnson’s “History of the Jews” to get an idea about how much these people changed history.
But we are still perturbed. We are still uncomfortable. Why did it have to be this way?
This story takes us back some two centuries ago. In 1798, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, was arrested and charged with treason, on the basis of petitions to the Czar by opponents of Chassidim. It was a devastating moment. after 53 days of imprisonment, he was exonerated of all charges and freed. The event—celebrated to this day on the 19th of Kislev, This Shabbat, December 5th, 2020 —marked the decisive victory of the Chabad movement over its foes, and the onset of a new, expanded phase in the dissemination of Chassidic teaching.
Upon his release, Rabbi Schneur Zalman dispatched a short but powerful letter to all his followers. The man suffered so much as a result of his opponents; they persecuted him and his followers even before the arrest. Then came the arrest and terrifying trial. Yet in this letter, he warns his Chassidim against any feelings of pride and superiority over their opponents as a result of their victory. He instructs them not to denigrate them, tease them, and demonstrate disdain to them.
The letter opens up with the verse we quoted above: “I have become small by all the kindnesses and by all the truth that You have done Your servant.” The Rebbe is perturbed by our above question. Instead of bolstering Jacob’s ego, Jacob was humbled as a result of the gifts he received. Why? The Alter Rebbe conveys a most fascinating and profound idea of what it means to be shown grace by G-d.
When you feel chosen over others, it can result in three emotions: 1) you may become arrogant not leaving room for others, or worse, denigrating and mistreating them. 2) It blinds you from seeing your faults. 3) You cannot recognize anything greater than yourself.
These are all serious hazards for human civilization—and that is why we loath the concept of “chosen people.” We try to stay away from it as much as we can.
But these results are true only if it is a human king who chooses you from among all of his subjects. The closer you are to the king, the more significant you are, and the higher respect you feel you deserve, and you look down at other human beings.
But the concept of CP is not just different, but the opposite. In Judaism, G-d is the core of the entire reality of existence. We are all part of G-d. There is an organic oneness that unites all of existence, all of humanity, all of the cosmos—and that organic unity is what we call G-d. G-d is one, does not only mean there is one G-d and not twenty gods; it means that G-d is synonymous with oneness.
To be conscious of G-d means, to never allow your ego to wrap you in its superficial imagination. “Ego” stands for Easing G-d Out.
Being close with a G-d summons you to respect others more, not less. You can’t “own” G-d; you must surrender to G-d. The more G-d conscious, the more loving and charitable you become, as being chosen by G-d, you would realize that you are ONE WITH THE OTHER PERSON. You would recognize how much holiness exists in that person and you would love him or her passionately and sincerely.
This is the idea of the Chosen People -- a nation of individuals who have been given the opportunity to sense G-d's closeness, hear His truth, and relay his message to the world. And that is a Jew.
This is what it means to think like a Jew. When you were blessed with a gift, when you were showered with a blessing—the first instinct of the Jew is: Why to me alone? Am I better than anyone else? are we not all part of G-d’s singular reality? So why me? It must be that G-d gave this to me to share with others, to bless others, to enrich others!
Jacob became humble as a result of the kindness. With every kindness, he felt the closeness of G-d, and the closer you are to G-d, the more humble you become, the less judgmental, the more loving, the more kind, the more forgiving, and the more sensitive and compassionate.
It is one of the most beautiful Chassidic tales.
Once, a distraught man came to the great master Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev. Standing in the rabbi's study, he said, "Rabbi, my business partners are about to make a terrible mistake. They want to take a new partner. But the man they have chosen does not even love G-d!"
Rabbi Levi Yitzhak looked worried. "Yes, that would be very bad. But tell me about this man they chose. Is he generous?"
"Well, yes, Rabbi. He even gives huge banquets and invites the poor. But he isn't pious!"
"And tell me," the Rabbi continued. "When others succeed, is he happy or jealous?"
"I guess he is happy. When I recently received the honor of providing the local count with supplies, this man invited me to his house to congratulate me. But he doesn't even attend synagogue!"
"I see. My friend, I would like to tell you a story." The rabbi stood up and began pacing back and forth as he spoke:
"There was once a king whose land was being invaded by a mighty army. His general went out with many soldiers to repel the invaders but was defeated. So the king appointed another general. The second general succeeded.
"Now the royal counselors came to the king with an accusation: the first general, they said, had obviously been a traitor. If not, he would have won. After all, he commanded the same army that later prevailed!
"The king was in a quandary. This accusation was very serious. But how would the king determine whether the first general had tried to succeed or had purposely failed?
"Unable to solve this problem, the king summoned an old man who lived at the edge of the city, who was known for his wisdom. When the old man heard the king's tale, he said, "I will devise a test, your majesty. Please schedule a victory parade for the winning general!"
"Two days later, the city turned out for the parade. As the victorious general marched through the city, the grateful populace lined the streets. They cheered and shouted praises for the one who had saved them from their enemy.
"The old man had arranged for the parade to pass the home of the first general, who had failed. And he told the king to clandestinely go and observe what the first general does when the parade passes his home.
“When the victor strode by, the defeated general stood at his window, cheering as loudly as all the others, throwing flowers across his rival's path.
"The old man returned to the king. 'Have no fear, your majesty! The first general loves you so much that he even rejoices when his rival achieves a victory for you.'"
Rabbi Levi Yitzhak stopped his pacing and looked at the man in his study. "You see, my friend, we are all created by G-d to strive against the evil inclination within us. Many of us love G-d deeply but are defeated in that bitter struggle against our evil urges.
"How can you recognize those who honestly struggle to love G-d but have been defeated? By their ability to share whole-heartedly in the happiness of G-d's other children.
"My friend, please help this man obey all the commandments, if you can. But as long as he shows this deep, enthusiastic love for other struggling humans, you must never doubt his love for G-d!"
This, indeed, remains the eternal litmus test for religion. If you love G-d, you love people. If you believe in G-d, you believe in people. If you cherish G-d, you cherish people. If you are chosen by G-d, you make sure that every person feels chosen to fulfill his or her mission to bring redemption to our world.
Chassidic master Rabbi Levi Yitzchak once said: I learned the meaning of love from a drunk. I once passed two drunks drinking in a gutter and overheard the following conversation between them:
Drunk #1: “I love you!”
Drunk #2: “No, you don’t.”
Drunk #1: “Yes, yes, I do. I love you with all my heart.”
Drunk #2: “No, you don’t. If you love me, why don’t you know what hurts me?”
Reb Levi Yitzchak was not only teaching us what love us; he was also teaching us what religion is. Being close to G-d means that you feel the presence of the Divine in all and thus your heart overflows with love to all. And you can truly sense what another is feeling because if G-d is real, you and he are really one.
Shabbat Shalom and a Chag Sameach,
Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky
Tom Peacock wrote...