The Duality of the Jew

I once heard my father utter the saddened statement “עם לסבל נולדנו”, meaning in rough translation, “a nation of suffering we have been born to.” Yet, every day, at least three times each day, I thank God for making me a Jew. There are days and there are days. I think that this apparent duality is the sum of the Jewish experience of the past four millenniums of our nation’s history.

There are days and there are days as I have said above. There are days when I am so saddened by my fate, so devastated by the undeniable fact that I have been born into a nation of suffering, that I cannot help but hold back the bitterness of my tears. What can I do? I am just so tired of the suffering. So sick of all of the holocausts and pogroms, crusades and inquisitions. So tired of all of the ghettos and blood libels, humiliations and massacres. Days when I am simply so sickened by the overflowing rivers of blood of thirty-five hundred years of Jewish persecution. Days when I am simply choked by the smoke of the German chimneys which are still within my people’s memory. It is on days like these when my father’s statement keeps ringing loudly in my ears. We have been born into a nation of suffering: such has been our fate, and such is our destiny. 

Then there are times when I am saddened by the burden of the responsibilities and obligations that I have towards my nation. Times when the yoke of responsibility weighs so heavily on my neck, that I can just barely raise my head. After all, because of these very responsibilities, I have had to leave behind everything I have ever known. I have had to move to a foreign and unknown country, learn to speak a new tongue, and make new connections. Thus has been my Jewish experience. An experience unfortunately marked by endless obstacles and pain, dragged down by countless obligations and constraints. When taking all of these factors into account, my father’s conclusion suddenly becomes understandable and seemingly undeniable: the Jewish nation has been born to suffering.

However, as I previously stated, there are days and there are days. There are also days different from those referenced earlier. There are days when I cannot help but raise my head high because of the pride filling my heart. Pride rooted in the fact that I have been born to a nation of kings and priests, prophets and judges. Pride that I am filled with when I look to the right and see Sampson holding his sword. Pride that I am filled with when I look left and see Isaiah speaking truth so piercing that it races around the world. Pride that I am filled with when I remember that even in destitute I am still a son of a prince; that even in humiliation I am a prince amongst men. I have been blessed with the fact that I have been born a Jew. I have been blessed with the fact that I have been born to the most majestic, eloquent, and influential nation in the history of the world. I have been blessed since I have been betrothed to the One and Great God, just as a result of my belonging to the Jewish people.

It is on those same days that I review again all of the obligations and responsibilities that I have towards my nation. It is on those same days that I conclude that these obligations and responsibilities are no burden at all; rather, they are the highest of all privileges and an honor that I would not trade for anything in the world. Thus has also been my Jewish experience. An experience that I have considered to be so valuable and precious that I have been willing to sacrifice everything in my possession for its sustainment: the relationship with my family, my ability to communicate through language, and any certainty regarding my future. 

Again, it is also on days like these when my father’s statement keeps ringing loudly in my ears. Yes, we have indeed been born into a nation of suffering. A nation that has known no rest or quiet in all of its years on earth. However, just because we suffer does not make the Jewish experience any more or less tragic or beautiful. Will a mother experiencing the pains of childbirth throw her hands in the air and proclaim motherhood to be meaningless and lamentable? Of course not. Being a Jew is no different.

I do not know if I have succeeded in rationalizing or justifying the duality of the Jewish experience. I am also unsure if a justification has even been necessary from the start. After all, perhaps this supposed contradiction is in itself the very core and defining element of the Jewish experience. Regardless, the simultaneous tragedies and good fortunes of the Jewish people continue to coincide and take up an equal amount of space in existence. What one sees simply depends on which side one views the complex prism.