Who Are You? & Why They Hate Us

Pulling out my calling cards made me feel important: ABC News, Fox News, Lifestyles Magazine—no shabby affiliations by any means. As a journalist, I must admit that at the start of my career, meeting prominent people was intoxicating. There it was: my name in the byline next to world-famous headliners, congressmen, journalists, and rock stars. I was initially proud—feeling like a superstar by association. When you rub shoulders with such people, what really rubs off?

As we know, all that glitters is not gold. For the most part, it was a fake world, both bamboozled and paranoid with itself. Some of the people I interviewed and met have been indicted and have committed serious offenses. Am I now guilty by association? It seems only fair, given that I gained honor from their klieg lights. At what cost, I ask, do we cling to our titles, prestige, and illusory visions of ourselves? A whole life can pass without truth. We cling to status symbols, striving for more, without deeply contemplating who the real audience is.

I consider myself fortunate because, for every "star" I’ve pursued, some fallen, I was keenly aware of the presence of a Higher Power above them—Hashem. When I realized I was living in a vapid world of make-believe, there was something real and unchanging for me to grasp onto—G-d and His Torah. Scrolled up in the heart of every synagogue and within every Jew is the true infinite source of light, not one that switches off when the show ends or burns out midway.

Our egos and pride have become massive scaffolds holding up our house of cards. But when life huffs and puffs, it will blow our "house" down. The eye-opening antisemitism of the past year, reminiscent of the hatred preceding the Holocaust, has served to knock down our scaffolds. Despite our significant contributions across every echelon of society, the Jew is still hated. Despite all we’ve contributed scientifically, monetarily, or otherwise to improve the world, we remain targets of hatred. The simple question of why should not be beyond our inquiry. Both the Jewish people and their tiny country are uniquely targeted for opprobrium.

Here's why!

Have you ever known someone who achieved great success, only to be criticized for “forgetting where they came from”? That’s us, the Jews. We have forgotten our origins and what we are meant to do on this planet. G-d told us we are His special chosen nation, and our job is to behave like Jews and be a light to all the nations. Being a Jew means being honest in business, keeping kosher, giving charity, and representing G-d with class, grace, and integrity. But we’ve come to love ourselves too much and serve our own desires instead, causing our holy charge and all that comes with it to disintegrate in the tantalizing process of assimilation—a people trying so hard to fit in when we were born to stand out.

We have modern-day role models, but perhaps it’s best to look toward figures whose names still inspire thousands of years later—like Moses. Moses didn’t need titles. He was the most humble person who ever lived. The greatest prophet in history, who spoke face-to-face with G-d, did not have business cards that read Prophet-in-Chief or CEO of the Torah. Moses was called a servant of G-d. King David’s humility, too, made him the greatest king in history: "And I am a worm and not a man" (Psalms 22:17). I'm not knocking achievement, just forcing the question: Who are you serving?

If antisemitic governments and institutions can expel Jews or expropriate their possessions, what remains of us? What can we pass to the next generation? When we leave a job, retire, or get fired, and our business cards become obsolete, who are we? Do we just become sad, pathetic old stories of what we used to be? To understand who we are, we must know where we come from. We are the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We are the students of Moses and the trustees of the Divine word chosen by G-d Himself. We are Jews, deliverers of light. That is our job and duty. So, stop focusing on the calling cards and listen to your calling. Don’t make G-d shout. Because, in case you haven’t noticed, the discontent is getting louder.       Shabbat Shalom!