A cut above? Circumcision and supremacy

The closing passage of this week’s parasha introduces us to Brit Milah – a physical manifestation and sign of God’s covenant with Avraham and his descendants. Among the rationalisations offered for this commandment is Rambam’s proposal in Moreh Nevuchim (3:49) that it serves as a physical sign of collective commitment to the beliefs and values of Judaism. Rambam emphasises the fact that circumcision is not a simple scratch to the skin’s surface but rather a significant wound – and therefore constitutes a statement of deep religious commitment (presumably by the parents of the child).

This explanation recalls a primary theory advanced by Moshe Koppel in his recent book Judaism Straight Up: Why Real Religion Endures. According to Koppel, any sort of community must contain certain key attributes – such as duty, loyalty and respect for authority in order to preserve itself. Most important however in terms of group identity, are customs and rules which perpetuate and strengthen a sense of shared identity. The more demanding and costly these rules are, the more powerful this identity will be. In terms of contemporary Jewish practices, these rules can take the form of actual mitzvot – such as kashrut – or customs which have been adopted by specific groups such as a strict dress code or shunning secular education. Rambam’s explanation of circumcision as constituting a public statement of membership of the Jewish nation fits neatly into this pattern.

Such benefits of the commandments should not be ignored; they are particularly valuable when Judaism is attempting to rebuild post-Holocaust – or under siege from “Liberalism” (as depicted by Koppel). This approach, however, brings with it an inherent danger in that it will be applied too strongly. Pride in one’s religion and nationality can be a positive thing. Taken too far, however, they can spill over into forms of supremacy and indifference – even hostility – to outsiders.

Basing himself on a Midrash Rabbah, Rabbi S. R. Hirsch identifies a very different lesson to be drawn from the commandment of Brit Milah, and how our forefather Avraham reacted to it:

“Here sits the first circumcised Jew – and where is he seated? “In the groves of Mamre!”…Although he was now circumcised, his relationship to mankind outside his limited sphere remained unchanged.

Our sages teach us that Avraham’s sole concern – and this is what prompted him to sit before his door in the heat of the day – was that now, following his circumcision, people might avoid him (Bereishit Rabbah 48:9). Our sages teach us this so that, from Avraham’s example, we should learn that providing hospitality to guests is greater than standing before the Divine Presence (Shabbat 127a). And who were the guests Avraham was expecting? Uncircumcised idolators (He could have expected no others). For their sake he left God’s Presence; he ran to greet them, to fulfil the duty of acting with lovingkindess towards one’s fellow man.”

It is perhaps fitting that the first commandment received by our ancestors to symbolise our distinct and chosen status should contain both of these elements; marking ourselves out as different while at the same time being followed by an account of Avraham’s open outlook to the Other. Paradoxically, we are expected to retain our own strong identity – but a key part of that very identity is, we are told by Isaiah to be: “a light unto the nations, so that My salvation shall be until the end of the earth”.

The correct balance of these two aspects of our Jewish identity may vary in time and place. A natural – probably correct – response to persecution is insularity and hostility towards the oppressor as a matter of self-preservation. In better times, the ability to be more open, engaging and outward-thinking in one’s Judaism may reflect an inner security and peace with one’s faith.

If we are to search for a peak of Jewish history which we can identify as some sort of ideal, the most likely candidate would be the early years of King Shlomo. The first book of Kings describes a society thriving on peace and prosperity under the guidance of a wise monarch. Strong messianic themes can be sensed in the way that non-Jews amassed from surrounding lands to stand in amazement at Shlomo’s wisdom, while “Judah and Israel dwelt safely, every man under his vine and under his fig-tree, from Dan even to Beer-sheba, all the days of Solomon” (5:5). This era particularly stands out as a time in which the Jews sought to spread their wisdom and teachings beyond their own circles.

In its ideal state, it would seem that Jewish Strength is not to be found in lording it over others but by making ourselves such an illuminating example of morality, wisdom and spirituality that people will come flocking to share in our teachings.

First posted on Facebook 3 November 2022, here.