Politics and Policy Archive
Welcome to Politics and Policy where you will find the latest thoughts and reflections by CLAL faculty and associates on the important political and public policy questions facing us as Jews and as Americans.
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Chosenness
By Steve Greenberg
Historically, Christmas is the time of year when the mutual
rejection of each faith by the other burns brightest.
Easter has an even more sinister history of European anti-Semitism,
but in America it is Christmas that really marks the Jew as an outsider. Perhaps I am overly theological, but I have always
sensed that beneath the songs and decorations a quiet battle still rages over who indeed
is God's chosen people, the elder or the younger. That's
why it felt, and still feels, like treason for me to sing those songs. Even when it is genteel, a deep sibling rivalry
simmers.
Apropos of all this, the lunch conversation on a recent Shabbat
drifted to the story of Joseph and his brothers. Together
we considered what the brothers' hatred of Joseph was all about. Was it simply a matter of their jealousy in the
face of their father's special doting on Joseph?
Was it the coat that pushed them over the edge? Was it Joseph's narcissistic behavior, his
egotistic dreams? Or was it something
deeper, a motif that recurs over and over again in the stories of Genesis, a motif that goes to the very roots of
the Abrahamic covenant? Abraham had two sons -- one was rejected and the other chosen. Isaac also had two sons -- one was rejected, the
other was chosen. The pattern whereby the
election of one son is made to depend upon the rejection of the others recurs again and
again. Knowing the contours of this oft
repeated family plot, it would hardly be surprising if Joseph's brothers believed they
were engaged in a competitive contest from which would emerge a single winner. If so, it would be fair for them to assume that
"the chosen one" would ultimately cut them out of the story just as Ishmael and
Esau had been cut out.
Despite the fact that God's choosing of one son over another is
what moves the plot, the Joseph narratives give evidence of the spiritual and moral
dangers inherent in the idea. The winnowing
of Abraham's seed, by choosing one son and rejecting the other, may serve to build the
covenantal family, but it potentially undermines it as well.
Paradoxically, the dramatic vehicle that solidifies group
identity by negating "others" turns back upon itself and threatens to splinter
the very group that it is supposed to maintain. Social
theorists have suggested that the legacies of oppression are often maintained by the
practice of "othering." Othering
is a way of defining and securing one’s own positive identity through the
stigmatization of an "other." Whatever
the markers of social differentiation that shape the meaning of "us" and
"them," whether they are racial, geographic, ethnic, economic or ideological,
there is always the danger that they will become the basis for a self-affirmation that
depends upon the denigration of the other group. When
a group claims to be "chosen by God," the danger multiplies, not only for the
"unchosen" other who may be subjected to violence, but for the chosen group
itself that is at risk of being undermined. The
chosen ones of God may be torn apart when the zealous persecution of the faithless
outsider turns inward to become the zealous persecution of the faithless insider. Jews, Christians and Moslems all have a
history of intolerance that extends from without to within.
Given this picture, the dynamic of covenantal
inclusion/exclusion that plays out in the Book of Genesis
looks like the heart of the problem. And yet,
at the same time, the Joseph story can be read as critiquing the very tradition of
inclusion/exclusion that, on the surface, it seems to repeat. The text makes quite explicit the dynamic whereby
one son is chosen over the others. But it also brings us face to face with the negative
consequences of this dynamic as the family is torn apart by a combination of Jacob’s
favoritism, Joseph’s narcissism and his brothers’ murderous resentment and
jealousy. Can more dramatic testimony to the dangers of chosenness be imagined?
And yet in the course of the Joseph story a counter-lesson
emerges, a lesson that does not repudiate the idea of chosenness, but emphasizes instead
that the chosen are elected by God for a purpose, that they are chosen not for their own
sake but for the sake of serving others. Had Joseph grasped this lesson from the
beginning, he would not have interpreted the signs of his election in as narcissistic and
grandiose a fashion as he does and would not have lorded it over his brothers. Proving
that pride goes before the fall, Joseph’s narcissism brings him to grief and he finds
himself sold into Egypt as a slave by his brothers.
As a slave in Egypt, however, Joseph comes to understand
chosenness in a new way and learns the real meaning of God's promise to his
great-grandfather Abraham, that "through you all the families of the earth shall be
blessed." In short, he comes to
learn that chosenness is about service to others and his grasp of this lesson carries him
to leadership in the dungeons of Pharaoh, and then to the office of vizier of Egypt. Knowing himself to be chosen and finally
understanding what being chosen means, Joseph is emboldened and empowered to act
decisively to save the Egyptians from famine. This
he understood to be God’s will, this he understood to be God’s reason for
choosing and elevating him. God did not want him to convert the Egyptians to the God of
Israel. Nor was he elected to demonstrate Israelite cultural superiority to the pagans or
to urge Israel’s moral values upon the Egyptians.
He was chosen to feed people and this he did. Chosenness, once properly understood,
motivates and assures, and empowers us to act decisively for the greater good. The awareness of being chosen provides the
confidence that can make all the difference in one's ability to make a difference. It is not an end in itself, but a resource for
good.
Late in the Joseph story, at the moment when his father Jacob is
about to die, Joseph brings his sons to Jacob to receive his blessing. When Joseph stands
with his two young sons before his father Jacob, and sees Jacob placing his right hand on
the head of the younger and his left upon the head of the older, he protests that his
father seems, yet again, to be subtly favoring the younger over the older. Jacob calms him, explaining that his
blessing goes equally to both children. Joseph
uncomfortably relents.
On Friday nights we bless our children with the blessings of our
ancestors. Daughters are blessed with
the names of the mothers, "May you be like Sarah, Rebeka, Rachel and Leah," but
sons are blessed with "May you be like Ephraim and Menashe." Why don't we bless our sons with the names
of the fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob? Perhaps
because the joint blessing of the two sons Ephraim and Menashe recalls Jacob’s equal
blessing to both and represents our hope that the chosen family will never again be torn
apart by arrogance on the one side and envy on the other.
As Ephraim and Menashe were liberated from the competitive struggle for
their parents' love, or for God's exclusive blessing, may we be so liberated that we can
instead work together, sharing our respective gifts for the common good. Joseph calls upon us all to learn that each
of us in our uniqueness is individually chosen by God, and to be strengthened by this
knowledge to act and to serve.
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