The cost of hiding who we are generally outweighs the benefit. I’d like to look at how this plays out in the story of Joseph, which we are concluding these weeks, and then as it relates to us as Jews today.
Last week’s parasha ended on a cliffhanger. You will recall that Joseph insists that Benjamin come down to Egypt, Jacob is terrified to let him go but agrees. Joseph frames Benjamin by placing a silver goblet in his sack. Judah says, We are guilty. We will all be your slaves.
And Joseph says, No, you will not all be my slaves. Only the one in whose sack the goblet was found will be my slave. As for the rest of you, עלו לשלום אל אביכם aloo l’shalom el avikhem. Go back in peace to your father.
On one level, Joseph is completely in control. We can interpret his actions as wreaking revenge on his brothers and his father, or as a test to see how much they have grown morally since they left him to die in a pit, or a little bit of both.
On a deeper level, Joseph is suffering in his own way and he is barely holding himself together. You may recall that earlier, when his brothers spoke apologetically among themselves, he turned away and cried, and then faced them again after he regained composure.
He is hiding from them. He is hiding from his family. He has a new name, a new look, an Egyptian wife - the Egyptians know he’s a Hebrew, though he doesn’t quite look like one. His hiding - mostly from his family - causes enormous emotional pain.
There are several reasons why Joseph finally reveals himself to his brothers, but I want to propose that his main emotional, psychological motivation is that he was tired of being isolated from his family.
In short, he was tired of hiding.
There are many reasons why we hide certain aspects of who we are, often having to do with danger. For whatever reasons, we feel that it is dangerous to be forthright about who we are. So we hide.
As we continue to respond to recent antisemitic attacks - vandalism, assault, stabbing, shooting - we are appropriately focusing on a whole range of issues including improving our physical security and the need to speak out regardless of where the antisemitic acts are coming from and what “type of Jew” is impacted.
I want to take a few moments to reflect on a disturbing trend that is emerging, and that is the growing fear among Jews of being too public in expressing their Jewishness.
The Forward interviewed a significant group of Jews of all ages across the United States and discovered that some who used to wear kippot publicly are less likely to do so, and some who used to wear jewelry bearing a Jewish star or some other Jewish symbol are less likely to do so.
Deborah Lipstadt, Professor of Holocaust Studies at Emory University and a leading expert in antisemitism, wrote recently about synagogues in Europe that don’t publish service times and, here in the US, college students who hide their Jewish and Zionist commitments so that they are accepted in certain clubs.
I would certainly not encourage anyone to do anything that makes them uncomfortable. We all need to take the precautions that we feel are appropriate.
But I want to urge us to ask ourselves the following question. To the extent that we find ourselves hiding our Jewishness - however that might be expressed - what is the cost of that hiding?
What is the cost to us? To our children and grandchildren and nieces and nephews who see us?
In the New York area, the primary targets of antisemitic attacks have been Jews who publicly appear Jewish - whether they or we characterize them as Orthodox, ultra-Orthodox, Hasidic - the connecting factor is that they all appear Jewish, not just in private but in public.
While we may have differences in observance and outlook from some of these individuals, and while I am not suggesting that we adopt the dress of those who are part of these communities, I do want to say, in this space, at this time, that I personally am inspired by the matter-of-fact way in which Jews in these communities put forth their Jewishness.
However we choose to be forthright about our own Jewishness, I hope that we can derive some inspiration from all of the people we know who are forthright about being Jewish so that we choose to be forthright in ways that fit who we are.
We are understandably shaken up by what is happening around us. We also need to remind ourselves that this is not 15th century Spain or 1930’s Europe or even 21st century Europe.
Jews across the spectrum and our allies of other faiths will be gathering in NYC this Sunday. The NYPD, with the full backing of local and state leadership, will be there to provide security. This is an opportunity for us to be forthright about our Jewishness. Every time we come here, we are being forthright about our Jewishness. When we shop in kosher stores, when we walk in the streets identified as Jews, when we visit Israel, we are being forthright about our Jewishness.
It is scary, and we need to be smart, but we also need to be forthright.
Joseph could only hide for so long. When the pain of hiding overtook the pain of revealing ולא יכל יוסף להתאפק v’lo yakhal Yosef l’hit’apek and Joseph could no longer contain himself, he needed to reveal who he was.
We each do a heshbon, an accounting, all the time about how much of ourselves to reveal.
When it comes to how much of our Jewishness to reveal, I am asking us, urging us, not to allow our haters to define us. When taking sensible precautions crosses the line into self-hiding, we have gone too far.
When Joseph finally cries out, his voice reaches the other Egyptians in his home and news reaches Pharoah’s palace.
With our strength, and God’s help, may our forthright embrace of our identity and practice as Jews - our teachings, our symbols, our observance, our commitment to making the world better - reach far beyond our homes to embrace the streets of New York, the plains of the Midwest, the hills of Los Angeles, the halls of Washington DC, the alleyways of Jerusalem and far, far beyond.
Let us refuse to define ourselves as a people long hated by those around us. Truth is, many around us like us just fine and we will defend ourselves against those who don’t. Let us continue to define ourselves as a people charged with bringing blessings of light and love to the world.
As such a people, the last thing we want to do - for our sakes, and for the sakes of others - is to hide.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck the day before the "No Hate No Fear Solidarity March in NYC, January 4, 2020
TIGN at the No Hate No Fear Solidarity March in NYC
Last week’s parasha ended on a cliffhanger. You will recall that Joseph insists that Benjamin come down to Egypt, Jacob is terrified to let him go but agrees. Joseph frames Benjamin by placing a silver goblet in his sack. Judah says, We are guilty. We will all be your slaves.
And Joseph says, No, you will not all be my slaves. Only the one in whose sack the goblet was found will be my slave. As for the rest of you, עלו לשלום אל אביכם aloo l’shalom el avikhem. Go back in peace to your father.
On one level, Joseph is completely in control. We can interpret his actions as wreaking revenge on his brothers and his father, or as a test to see how much they have grown morally since they left him to die in a pit, or a little bit of both.
On a deeper level, Joseph is suffering in his own way and he is barely holding himself together. You may recall that earlier, when his brothers spoke apologetically among themselves, he turned away and cried, and then faced them again after he regained composure.
He is hiding from them. He is hiding from his family. He has a new name, a new look, an Egyptian wife - the Egyptians know he’s a Hebrew, though he doesn’t quite look like one. His hiding - mostly from his family - causes enormous emotional pain.
There are several reasons why Joseph finally reveals himself to his brothers, but I want to propose that his main emotional, psychological motivation is that he was tired of being isolated from his family.
In short, he was tired of hiding.
There are many reasons why we hide certain aspects of who we are, often having to do with danger. For whatever reasons, we feel that it is dangerous to be forthright about who we are. So we hide.
As we continue to respond to recent antisemitic attacks - vandalism, assault, stabbing, shooting - we are appropriately focusing on a whole range of issues including improving our physical security and the need to speak out regardless of where the antisemitic acts are coming from and what “type of Jew” is impacted.
I want to take a few moments to reflect on a disturbing trend that is emerging, and that is the growing fear among Jews of being too public in expressing their Jewishness.
The Forward interviewed a significant group of Jews of all ages across the United States and discovered that some who used to wear kippot publicly are less likely to do so, and some who used to wear jewelry bearing a Jewish star or some other Jewish symbol are less likely to do so.
Deborah Lipstadt, Professor of Holocaust Studies at Emory University and a leading expert in antisemitism, wrote recently about synagogues in Europe that don’t publish service times and, here in the US, college students who hide their Jewish and Zionist commitments so that they are accepted in certain clubs.
I would certainly not encourage anyone to do anything that makes them uncomfortable. We all need to take the precautions that we feel are appropriate.
But I want to urge us to ask ourselves the following question. To the extent that we find ourselves hiding our Jewishness - however that might be expressed - what is the cost of that hiding?
What is the cost to us? To our children and grandchildren and nieces and nephews who see us?
In the New York area, the primary targets of antisemitic attacks have been Jews who publicly appear Jewish - whether they or we characterize them as Orthodox, ultra-Orthodox, Hasidic - the connecting factor is that they all appear Jewish, not just in private but in public.
While we may have differences in observance and outlook from some of these individuals, and while I am not suggesting that we adopt the dress of those who are part of these communities, I do want to say, in this space, at this time, that I personally am inspired by the matter-of-fact way in which Jews in these communities put forth their Jewishness.
However we choose to be forthright about our own Jewishness, I hope that we can derive some inspiration from all of the people we know who are forthright about being Jewish so that we choose to be forthright in ways that fit who we are.
We are understandably shaken up by what is happening around us. We also need to remind ourselves that this is not 15th century Spain or 1930’s Europe or even 21st century Europe.
Jews across the spectrum and our allies of other faiths will be gathering in NYC this Sunday. The NYPD, with the full backing of local and state leadership, will be there to provide security. This is an opportunity for us to be forthright about our Jewishness. Every time we come here, we are being forthright about our Jewishness. When we shop in kosher stores, when we walk in the streets identified as Jews, when we visit Israel, we are being forthright about our Jewishness.
It is scary, and we need to be smart, but we also need to be forthright.
Joseph could only hide for so long. When the pain of hiding overtook the pain of revealing ולא יכל יוסף להתאפק v’lo yakhal Yosef l’hit’apek and Joseph could no longer contain himself, he needed to reveal who he was.
We each do a heshbon, an accounting, all the time about how much of ourselves to reveal.
When it comes to how much of our Jewishness to reveal, I am asking us, urging us, not to allow our haters to define us. When taking sensible precautions crosses the line into self-hiding, we have gone too far.
When Joseph finally cries out, his voice reaches the other Egyptians in his home and news reaches Pharoah’s palace.
With our strength, and God’s help, may our forthright embrace of our identity and practice as Jews - our teachings, our symbols, our observance, our commitment to making the world better - reach far beyond our homes to embrace the streets of New York, the plains of the Midwest, the hills of Los Angeles, the halls of Washington DC, the alleyways of Jerusalem and far, far beyond.
Let us refuse to define ourselves as a people long hated by those around us. Truth is, many around us like us just fine and we will defend ourselves against those who don’t. Let us continue to define ourselves as a people charged with bringing blessings of light and love to the world.
As such a people, the last thing we want to do - for our sakes, and for the sakes of others - is to hide.
Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck the day before the "No Hate No Fear Solidarity March in NYC, January 4, 2020
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