While Standing (Six Feet Apart) on One Foot
March 24, 2020
Many years ago, I read a book that has stayed with me as few other books have. It was written by Rabbi Richard Rubenstein at it is called “The Cunning of History.” Its thesis was simple: when governments see populations as ‘surplus people,’ they go about the process of expelling, enslaving, or eliminating the said population. Rubenstein pointed out that this is what the Pharoah of the Hagadah did when he enslaved the Jews in Egypt. The text lays out the problem:
“A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph. And he said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are much too numerous for us. Let us deal shrewdly with them, so that they may not increase; otherwise in the event of war they may join our enemies in fighting against us and rise from the ground.” So they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor; and they built garrison cities for Pharaoh: Pithom and Raamses. But the more they were oppressed, the more they increased and spread out, so that the [Egyptians] came to dread the Israelites.” {Ex 1:7–12}
Since the book was written, we have seen this played out again and again. Mass expulsions of minorities, mass murder and mass slavery all in the name of national policy.
In the past day, we have all seen echoes of his thesis being bantered about. R.R. Reno writes in ‘First Things’ an unreal manifestation of this philosophy and, like all good national prioritists, writes the following:
“At the press conference on Friday announcing the New York shutdown, Governor Andrew Cuomo said, “I want to be able to say to the people of New York—I did everything we could do. And if everything we do saves just one life, I’ll be happy.”
This statement reflects a disastrous sentimentalism. Everything for the sake of physical life? What about justice, beauty, and honor? There are many things more precious than life. And yet we have been whipped into such a frenzy in New York that most family members will forgo visiting sick parents. Clergy won’t visit the sick or console those who mourn. The Eucharist itself is now subordinated to the false god of “saving lives.” “
The most astounding line is “There are many things more precious than life.” Read between the lines. It’s not hard. He is suggesting that there are greater things than physical life. How short a step is it to say, ‘These people who are most vulnerable will get sick. They provide nothing to society. Let them go.’
Politicians are now saying the same thing. But it seem so boil down to one thing: the economy is more precious than individual lives. Richard Rubenstein was right – when situations are bad enough, everyone is expendable. Sacrifice the elderly to further the goals of the government. I never thought I would see such a day. Yet, here it is.
Religious traditions all have the same basic tenet expressed in either ‘That which is hateful to you do not do to another’ and ‘Choose life so that you and your children may live.’ How, exactly, is infecting the elderly choosing life?! How is getting and spreading a virus so that we can open stores not the most hateful thing we can do?! Epidemiology meets Richard Rubenstein and now we are being asked – in a roundabout way – to infect everyone we meet! How is this in any way moral, Jewish, or even remotely acceptable?
As Jews, we have a responsibility to our neighbor. Yes, our literal neighbor and our symbolic neighbor. There is a moral imperative to choose life, keep away from sakana (danger), listen to the sages (in this case, the doctors and epidemiologists who spent their lives studying this stuff) and protect ourselves from hurtful and damaging things. To suggest that we re-enter the world as if everything is alright is, in my opinion, deeply immoral. Indeed, we may survive the war on this virus. But at the cost of our parents and grandparents, the weak and the vulnerable?
After the Holocaust, the great Nazi hunter Simon Weisenthal was summoned to the bedside of a dying SS officer. The officer confessed to horrible things and asked Weisenthal, as a Jew, to forgive him. Weisenthal said nothing and the officer died. He posited his question to theologians of all religions and denominations and collected their answers in a book called “The Sunflower.’ The Jews universally rejected the idea that we, the living, can forgive the perpetrator for the death of another. It is not ours to forgive.
In these days of the pandemic some are asking us to pay no heed to the virus and resume our normal lives. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, may die. And when this is over those who resumed life and quite possibly infected others may ponder what they have done and may beg forgiveness from the dead and from the living. The dead can’t forgive. I don’t know if could, either. Could you?
