October 25th: Simchat Torah and Beraysheet
THIS WEEKIN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Genesis begins before Creation, with God “merachefet / hovering” over the “tohu vavohu / utter chaos.” God hovers and thinks—and then gets to work. Does God have any doubts about creating the world? According to the Midrash, yes: God is aware of all that could go wrong—and even convenes a council of the angels to discuss the matter. Bad things could happen, but not creating the world would prevent all the wonders and blessings that could come to pass. So, God creates the world and us and embarks on a long-term project that will “yamlich malchuteh,” make the world as godly as possible.
How often are we in similar situations—embarking on a project but doubting ourselves and wondering about potential problems? Good planning requires thinking about both the benefits and the costs of an action or policy, and even good decisions have disadvantages—negatives that gnaw at the conscience. What are the costs—both financial and human? Do the advantages outweigh them enough to justify continuing?
Some decisions are fairly easy, but sometimes, situations are fraught with uncertainty and danger. Instead of good answers, we may be faced with a set of competing evils. Hence the old expression “the lesser of two evils” with which we try to figure out the less bad choice. The problem is that choosing any evil, even a small one, is extremely worrisome.
This is why some of us seek a kind of safety in ambivalence. Rather than choosing the lesser of two evils, we take on the role of observers and commenters, rising above the conflict and hovering. We think and we feel, retaining a kind of moral purity but avoiding responsibility. I even remember a church signboard encouraging this kind of moral aloofness: “When faced with two evils, choose neither.” It is an understandable prayer, but is hovering above the fray—and refusing to choose the lesser evil—really a moral option? I worry that such attempts at moral purity can bring disastrous results. When we refrain from choosing between evils, we allow the possibility that both evils will choose themselves. How good can we be if we eschew agency and let evil have its way with the world?
Sometimes, we may be blessed with problems that are not ours to solve—and we can observe from afar and make wise comments. Sometimes, we have no business sticking our noses in other people’s affairs. However, sometimes we are the ones with a difficult choice to make. It could be us or our government or our people, and we do not have the luxury of detached ambivalence. We face the crisis, and merachefet/hovering is not an option.
So, for example, let us imagine that we are at the table with President Truman, planning the end of World War II. The atom bomb has been prepared, and we could drop it on Japan. Or we could mount a ground invasion. Or we could just pack up and go home. My instinct would be to rise above the difficulty and hover, thinking of profound things to say. But my profundities would not be helpful. Everyone at the table already knows the full range of options and the terrible consequences of every choice. Whatever we advise and whatever the President decides, terrible things are going to happen. Hiroshima? Nagasaki? A million or more dead soldiers and civilians if we invade? Leave Japan armed and bent on conquest? Which evil is less bad? Which terrible option do we choose?
When confronted with determining and then choosing the lesser of two evils, some of us seek refuge in public confessions of ambivalence. It seems important that other people know how unhappy we are with the options and the decision. We share our doubts, ambivalence, and angst, staking out a public position of moral dissatisfaction. It is as though our ambivalence is evidence of our higher ethical stature.
The problem is that such public testimonials suggest that those who do not advertise their doubts and regrets do not have any. How often do we judge people who speak confidently and assume that they are uncaring or that they have not considered the costs and disadvantages of their actions? Is such pre-judging (prejudice!) fair? Moreover, is ambivalence a moral virtue, or is it merely the natural by-product of any decision-making process? An intelligent person thinks about the options and the benefits and costs when making a decision, but not everyone feels the need to share misgivings and angst. Some of us just like to share, but others prefer to focus on the course that their deliberations have counseled. In other words, jumping to the conclusion that they are unthinking or uncaring is both unfounded and highly insulting. We may not be privy to others’ thinking, but that does not mean that real moral considerations have not taken place.
There is also the question of what comprises actual caring behavior. Ambivalence and hovering are understandable responses, but ultimately, they are limited in solving real and gut-wrenching difficulties. Sometimes, a resolute and courageous approach is the best and the most helpful.
Take the current turmoil regarding Israel. Once one peels away the virulent anti-Semitism and double-standard-ism that subverts clear-headed thinking, there are legitimate concerns about non-combatants caught in the crossfire. On the Israeli side, this is a matter of great concern, and the Israel Defense Forces has taken extraordinary measures to minimize civilian casualties. As tragic as every human injury or death may be, the civilian casualties in Gaza and Lebanon are the lowest in the history of modern urban warfare. Contrast this with the “advocacy” of Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran et al who deliberately “sacrifice” Arab civilians—putting their own people in harm’s way and even preventing them from leaving targeted zones after Israeli warnings. Is this “caring” behavior? It is clearly a hellish situation, but the decision Israel faces has no good answers. Either Israel accepts destruction, or Israel defends itself. There are no good choices, but choices must nonetheless be made. They must be made, and they must be carried out, and an excess of ambivalence and angst is at a certain level distracting and counterproductive. In a life-or-death situation, Israel is choosing to survive.
It is hard to “out oneself” as a Zionist these days. It is hard to speak confidently and be suspected of “not caring.” Many of us are tempted to seek safety in ambivalence. However, we owe it to ourselves to think clearly and not impute automatic immorality to those who do not have the luxury of hovering above the crisis. And we owe it to ourselves to remember the true moral standard of this incessant conflict. As Golda Meir explained,
(1) “We can forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but we can never forgive them for making our sons kill their sons.”
(2) “Peace will come when the Arabs love their own children more than they hate us.”