The Rabbi's Word: Tragic Actors or an Authentic Nation?

Our national character is multifaceted, which is one of the reasons why most other nations fail to understand us. They consistently see only one facet, one dimension, and assume it represents the entirety. They are astonished, disappointed, or at the very least, merely perplexed when it suddenly becomes clear to them that our character possesses other dimensions. Nonetheless, there are two primary forces that influence us and are of paramount importance for understanding our essence. One distinct force is our remarkable capacity to adapt, to assimilate, to become like the people among whom we live. To some extent, this holds true even regarding the purely external, biological aspect of our appearance. This phenomenon can be observed even among members of a single family. Many of us have relatives in various corners of the world. When cousins gather for a family celebration, what do we see? Cousin Michael is a typical American, Cousin Alex is a typical Israeli, and Cousin Sofa and her children are typical Belarusians. Yet, their parents are biological siblings.

However, this is merely one, and not the most significant, aspect of the matter. The genuine capacity for adaptation manifests itself far more deeply, and it is linked to our ability to absorb the surrounding culture. To better understand this, let us examine a highly similar phenomenon known as Levantinism. A person of the Levantine type is also capable of changing very easily and rapidly, mastering new languages, and adopting manners of dress and behavior. Yet, this is merely imitation and mimicry; it does not touch the inner essence.

Our adaptation is entirely different; it is an internal transformation. With the language of another nation comes a profound understanding of its spirit, its aspirations, its way of life, and its thinking. We do not merely mimic; we become a part of that nation. Moreover, after a subjective, often very brief period, we find ourselves able to understand that nation better than it understands itself.

This phenomenon does not imply that Jews are well-liked in the countries where they have integrated and become part of the surrounding culture. On the contrary, it evokes resentment and indignation. Other nations develop a sense that Jews are not only subjugating them economically but also stealing their soul. We become the national poets, playwrights, and artists of other nations. More English than the English, more German than the Germans, more Russian than the Russians. There are many anecdotal stories on this subject, but in reality, we resemble an actor who does not merely play a role, but actually becomes the character he portrays on stage. If he is a talented actor, the image he creates is, in a sense, truer than the character itself, for the actor extracts its most defining details and distinct individual traits. And when Jews attempt to play a role, they do not act like mediocre performers and pathetic comedians, but in the manner of great tragic actors. In adapting to the nations among whom they live, they portray the archetype of the nation rather than its individual representatives. The question arises: how do we achieve this? The immense pressure exerted upon us—initially a small and weak nation—has always meant one thing: we must either adapt or perish. Those who failed to adapt indeed perished. Those who possessed the talent to assimilate to the local population in each new place survived. This constitutes one of the powerful features of our national "makeup."

Yet, there is another, no less critical, aspect. A commanding voice constantly resonates within our soul. Its demands are entirely contrary to adaptation and mimicry. This call is a drive toward self-knowledge. In other words, there are inexplicable elements of our "Self" from which we cannot escape, despite numerous attempts to do so throughout Jewish history. Sometimes, after one, two, or three generations have seemingly adapted and assimilated, the ancient trunk suddenly grows anew from the remaining roots, as though no assimilation had occurred. This is precisely the trait that other nations have primarily noticed in Jews since the very beginning of our existence: we are the most obstinate people in the world. A nation that cannot be conquered, that can be torn to pieces, yet those pieces, by virtue of the inner strength contained within them, will once again unite into a single, viable whole.

This appears to be an obvious contradiction. However, upon closer examination, we find that these two traits of our nation are contradictory only on the surface. A simple capacity for adaptation would imply that we should have dissolved into other nations. Within a century, we would have disappeared, having become indistinguishable from them. And those of us who truly desired this did indeed become part of other nations, if not themselves, then through their descendants. Yet those who survived—not as individuals, but as a nation—were only those who possessed an additional trait that gave special meaning to our capacity to adapt and change. It lies in the fact that, while changing, we retain the memory and knowledge that there is something unique about us, that Jews are distinct and unlike others. We are more flexible, more pliable than anything else in the world, and yet firmer than steel. This is the true secret behind our ability to survive and endure for over two millennia.

But let us return to our "actor." He is experienced, successful, and has reached the pinnacle of his craft. He sits in his dressing room, removing his makeup. What does he see in the mirror?  He performed so well that he has managed to forget what he looks like without makeup. It is as if he is being asked: "Who are you yourself?" A Jew can find a worthy response in only one way: by consciously, of his own volition, ceasing to play corporate roles.  To do this, however, we must make every effort to discover what we represent from within, what image lives in our hearts, and how it must develop.