Jews are sometimes accused of finding Antisemitism everywhere, even when it does not exist. There is some truth to this claim; no less an authority than the Netziv (R. Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin, 1816–1893), who composed an entire monograph on Antisemitism, emphasized that the attitude is not universal, and there are many non-Jews who have a great love for the Jews, and that must be acknowledged and reciprocated. At present, the Jewish people are greatly fortunate to have many genuine and devoted friends who are vital sources of support at this heart-wrenching time, in America and throughout the world.
Some have expanded and extrapolated from the comment of Rashi (Gen. 33:4), regarding two of the main protagonists of Parashat Toldot, Esau and Jacob, “It is well established (halakhah b’yadua) that Esau hates Jacob” to all of the descendants of those individuals, to say that hatred against Jews is universal. Even if the character of “Esau” should be read more expansively, the Netziv’s comment (found in his He’amek Davar to that verse) is that just as the individual Esau at times recognized his brotherhood with Jacob and reached out with love, his descendants often will as well.
Nonetheless, while Antisemitism is not universal, it is perennial. The fact that this “oldest hatred” has erupted, unimpeded, in its most blatant, vile forms in the modern era, in the halls of universities and the streets of Western cities, is evidence enough of this tragic truism. In our time, this hatred has taken on a particularly grotesque and brazen mutation: the libel that Israel, the lone Jewish state, is engaged in “genocide.” That charge has been hurled in international forums, courtrooms, parliaments, and mass protests, and amplified endlessly in slogans, social media, and campus encampments. This newest version of an ancient blood libel is not a distraction from Antisemitism; it is one of its purest and most dangerous expressions. Here, our Torah reading this week indeed has much to teach us; however, instead of looking to Jacob and Esau, we can look to Isaac and his interlocutors.
The Torah describes how Isaac becomes embroiled in a number of disputes regarding wells, and is ultimately sent away from his location of Gerar, and eventually travels to Be’er Sheva. R. Zalman Sorotzkin, in his Oznayim LaTorah, notes regarding the timing of travels that he did not wish to leave in the middle of a dispute, because “Antisemitism is a contagious disease” and the hatred would follow him to his next destination. R. Yaakov Kaminetsky comments that Isaac ultimately came to realize the need for distance. Much commentary on these verses recognizes the snapshot presented here of what would be a long and sad saga.
Advancers of the current rhetoric, who repeat or defend the accusation that Israel is committing “genocide,” claim they are not antisemitic in targeting Israel; Israel‘s behavior, they insist, should be up for evaluation just like every other nation, and the use of this term, they argue, is merely a principled application of international law. Some publications and commentators endeavor to show that they are not “obsessed with Israel,” but are simply calling out atrocities wherever they see them. A statement such as this misunderstands the nature of Antisemitism, and its unique threat.
It is by now undeniable that overt, blatant Antisemitism has manifested all over the globe, tolerated by governments and universities as acceptable and even respectable. However, this is not the only kind of Antisemitism that exists, nor is it even the most damaging in the long-term. Antisemitism comprises many different forms, and it is the more respectable forms – the “legal” and “moral” language that dresses up the genocide accusation in the garb of human rights discourse and international law – and their fellow travelers, that allow the more obvious forms to flourish.
The verses in our Torah reading continue to describe Isaac, to his surprise, being approached by Abimelech and two of his officers. Why have you come, he asks, given that you chased me away, and you “hate” me (sinetem, from the word sonei)?
As harsh as the word sinah, that we translate here as hatred, seems, it is not the strongest word used for Antisemites. The word oyev, enemy, is another option. Commenting on a verse which uses both terms (Esther 9:1), the Vilna Gaon understands that an oyev is actively trying to hurt you, while the sonei is not, but is happy to see it happen. The Malbim, commenting on another verse (Num. 10:35) explains somewhat differently; an oyev is open in his ill will, while a sonei conceals it (compare Lev. 19:17).
The destructive, invisible foundations of Antisemitism go beyond even the warped conceptions and beliefs one may have about the Jewish people. Biases and prejudices, even of an outlandish nature, exist against every group in the world, and may or may not impact treatment in demonstrable ways, and vary widely in their significance. The greater harm comes from attitudes that are even more subtle, because they disguise themselves within public policy and morality itself.
First, Jews are judged by a different standard than other groups. This, on the surface, is very easy to miss, because taken in isolation, a judgment may seem reasonable. Further complicating matters is the fact that Jews actually hold themselves to a different standard, identifying as the Chosen Nation. This conceals the fact that justice, by its very definition, requires a consistent standard. Even more to the point, when two entities are in conflict, the behavior of one impacts the other, and the treatment of one affects the other in turn. Thus inconsistency is not only unfair in the broader picture, it is itself an active participant in evil acts.
Abimelech and his crew answer Isaac that they “now” see that God is with Isaac (26:28). R. Sorotzkin notes that they had previously assumed that the Jew had become wealthy at their expense, evocative of claims that would be leveled against Jews in future generations, from multiple directions and ideologies. Only when he continues to flourish in isolation are they forced to acknowledge their folly, and their desire to benefit from his success.
Second, Jews are judged out of context. Here, again, a perspective that is zoomed in too closely will miss the injustice, not accounting for crucially relevant factors. This element, also, takes over where the first one leaves off. If Jews should not be treated by a different standard, how can there be any objection to treating them as equal to another party? This attitude, sounding so reasonable on its face, is the second component of Antisemitism’s evil. If a sovereign, democratic nation is attacked by a vicious, unaccountable terrorist group that hides behind civilians, and intentionally seeks to sacrifice them, to ignore that in evaluating the actions of that nation is profoundly unjust. And yet, it seems so respectable, and even empathetic!
Removing all context not only is unjust, it is malleable. It allows for literally any fact (or falsehood) to stand as an indictment, without regard to evidence or consistency. Gordon Allport, an American psychologist whose parents were Christian missionaries, demonstrates this in his book The Nature of Prejudice (1954/1979, Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, pp. 13–14) with this imagined conversation with an anti-Semite:
“Mr. X: The trouble with Jews is that they only take care of their own group.
Mr. Y: But the record of the Community Chest campaign shows that they give more generously, in proportion to their numbers, to the general charities of community, than do non-Jews.
Mr. X: That shows they are always trying to buy favor and intrude into Christian affairs. They think of nothing but money; that is why there are so many Jewish bankers.
Mr. Y: But a recent study shows that the percentage of Jews in the banking business is negligible, far smaller than the percentage of non-Jews.
Mr. X: That's just it; they don't go in for respectable business; they are only in the movie business or run night clubs."
This leads to the third hidden foundation of Antisemitism. The Jewish people are unique in two different ways that are related and are relevant. First, they purport to bear a moral message for humanity. Second, they have been subject to unparalleled persecution and aggression throughout history. These two factors are interconnected; to carry an ethical message, as prophets throughout the ages have learned, is to often be unwelcome to the point of inviting efforts to eliminate you.
That, however, carries a risk for the aggressor: the messenger may become a sympathetic victim. Worse, this martyrdom may amplify the message. Accordingly, to truly accomplish its goals, the persecution must be accompanied by its own message: the targets deserve their treatment. They are different; they stand out; they do not fit in with our ways and customs; and, most effective and devastating: they are morally deficient themselves.
This attitude is most blatantly evident regarding the Holocaust. This chapter of history, the most egregious crime of the 20th century, is a source of embarrassment to the modern world, an event so disgraceful that only the most morally empty people can ignore its stain. And yet, so many have, both while it was occurring and afterward, and so many are equally ready to turn a blind eye to contemporary threats that speak the same language as the Nazis.
All of this is because of these three foundations: the treatment of the Jews must not bother our conscience, goes the argument, because the Jews deserve it. How can such a preposterous claim be advanced? Whatever it takes: downplaying the treatment – Holocaust denial – is one part of it. Vilifying the victim – Holocaust inversion – is more respectable and effective. To describe Israel’s self-defense as “genocide” is to participate in that inversion: it recasts the Jews, history’s most famous victims of genuine genocide, as the new perpetrators, and their attackers as the new victims.
Indeed, Abimelech is brazen enough here to claim “we have only acted benevolently with you”, and now you must act that way with us (26:29). As commentaries note, by their standard, if you are chased away and deprived of your property, but not murdered, this is benevolence. (See Oznayim LaTorah and commentary of R. Samson Raphael Hirsch; see also Resp. Avnei Nezer, YD 306:40).
Not coincidentally, all three components of hidden (or, perhaps, subconscious) Antisemitism are the opposite of justice. The basics of justice are simple: treat all equally; consider the entire context; and act, in the big picture, in the service of protecting the innocent and deterring evil.
The accusation of genocide against Israel represents the apex of these three components working in concert. It judges Israel by a standard applied to no other nation defending itself against terrorism. It strips away all context—the October 7th massacre, Hamas's use of human shields, their stated genocidal intent against Jews, the extraordinary measures Israel takes to minimize civilian casualties even at cost to its own soldiers. And it inverts victim and aggressor in the most obscene way possible: accusing those who survived genocide of perpetrating it, while the actual would-be genocidaires are cast as victims.
International law, as a concept, faces a significant challenge: there is no international elected legislature that can claim the consent of the governed when it attempts to police the world. Its entire viability rests on the compelling, self-evidently just character of its implementation. When accusations of “genocide” are deployed against Israel in the name of international law while far worse atrocities elsewhere go unremarked, when the one Jewish state is singled out for the most incendiary crime on the books, those who speak are defying the core principles of justice. In doing so, they show that their project is more defined by the “criminal” acts they choose to fixate upon than by “law” in any meaningful, principled sense.
The fact that a genocidal terror group such as Hamas and its defenders have welcomed these accusations as a victory should be damning enough. However, what is more glaring is what the language itself accomplishes: it sends a clear message that “international justice” is aligned with the enemies of the Jewish state, even when – at times – such bodies purport to address “both sides.” It is clear what that really means: that institutions and movements claiming to speak on behalf of the world’s morality have become, in actuality, tools in the campaign of delegitimization and terror.
How should the Jew respond to these more subtle forms of Antisemitism? Here, we see that Isaac minces no words in his response. Commentaries note that flattery is unhelpful here, and only the undiluted truth is appropriate; perhaps, in fact, such honesty ultimately wins respect (see Tiferet Shlomo of R. Shmuel Berenbaum).
Ultimately, though, Isaac is willing to accept their overtures and move forward; R. Yeshayah HaLevi Horowitz, the Shlah, argues this is a model for his descendants as well (see also Reishit Chokhmah, and Ta’anit 25b). Perhaps a distinction needs to be made here between the sonei and the oyev; R. Yonatan Eibshutz (Ya’arot Devash, Vol. II) wrote that the Torah needed to command eternal remembrance of the terrorist attack of Amalek, as otherwise the Jewish tendency to forgive and forget would leave them vulnerable to future evils.
R. Yissachar Shlomo Teichtal (1885–1945) endured the Holocaust and was ultimately murdered in its closing days. While hiding from the Nazis, this towering scholar who had authored volumes of Torah commentary and Responsa (entitled Mishneh Sachir) also came to understand, through his encounter with that most vicious Antisemitism, the need to reestablish a Jewish homeland as part of the plan for God’s redemption of the Jewish people. He would, during this time, author the Zionist classic, Eim HaBanim Semeichah.
Once, while hiding on a roof, watching from above as Nazis stole even the meager rations available for the Jews, he was brought to contemplate this week’s Torah reading. It seems clear that Isaac always intended to give a blessing to Jacob. Why, he wondered, was it also necessary that events had to be orchestrated that Jacob had to take the measures that he did, to get the blessings meant for Esau?
His situation at that time inspired him to provide an answer. There will eventually be a time when the Jews will be fully redeemed and will enjoy the complete blessings intended for them. Until that time, there will be points in history when Esau and his hatreds will seem to dominate. Even during those times, he realized, there will be blessings available to Jacob. As dark as things seem, God will be watching out for His People and their national survival.
R. Teichtal personally did not survive to see those forces of evil defeated. His words, however, did, to inspire and uplift generations; to remind that as much as Antisemitism has, in its many forms, been present throughout Jewish History, God’s memory and promise is longer than that, and He has other plans.
R' Feldman
