Prisoner's Dilemma

The concept of chosenness is both central to Judaism and often misunderstood. Throughout history, it has been seen as an affront by many non-Jews. Rare is the indictment of the Jews that does not, in some way, invoke this idea that presumably suggests the Jews are better than everyone else.

 

It seems not to bother the accusers that every faith has claims about its superiority; or that many (including classical Christianity) insist that an adherence to that faith is essential to eternal salvation, which Judaism does not; or that chosenness does not preclude a special mission for other peoples in other ways, or that it can have no racial, genetic implications because one can convert to Judaism, and one cannot "convert" to be native American or Chinese. It is, in the eyes of an unforgiving world, the original conceptual sin--the sin of chosenness.

One of my congregants insisted to me that deciding one is “chosen” is like strutting, inviting someone else to knock the chip off your shoulder. And then there are others who simply feel it brings unwanted attention, from human beings or perhaps from God. As the fictional character Tevya famously laments, "Can’t you choose somebody else for a while?" Better to simply say we are a nation like all others.

 

Jean Daniel, a French journalist and commentator, and a Jew himself, has written a book called "The Jewish Prison: A Rebellious Meditation on the State of Judaism," in which he outlines the problem in being chosen and yet yearning for normality, being a people impelled by a spiritual message and yet forced to run a modern, secular state.

 

Daniel traces this theme through the tangled modern political situation of the state of Israel in the world. He does so with a sympathy for Israel alongside an intermittent--and very French--outrage at Israeli policies.

 

By feeling both sympathy for Israel and anger, Daniel himself is trapped, unable to find his way to consistency or ease about hissituation as a Jew. He embodies, as he acknowledges, the very dilemma that his book addresses: How does one accept the Jewish state as a normal country, and still believe its actions should be above reproach?

 

Daniel wants the State of Israel to be better. Why should it hold itself to high moral standards? Although he is not himself religious, Daniel's writing often sounds a theological note. The book is divided into chapters each of which opens with a quotation from the book of Job.

 

Throughout his ruminations, Daniel finds it difficult to escape the idea of Judaism having a mission. He quotes the renowned French classicist and historian Pierre Vidal-Naquet to summarize his own feelings: "The paradox of Israel is that it is both the accomplishment of a dream of normalization--having finally, like other countries, customs inspectors, prisons, and judges to fill these prisons--and the embodiment of a very old messianism that aims to create a righteous city. I myself feel this keenly, and, to give a clear example, an Israeli torturer...makes me more indignant than a French torturer."