Daphna Levin-Kahn – Head of Jewish Studies High School

Letting go of hate

There are a couple of bewildering mitzvot – commandments – in this week’s Parasha of Ki Teitzeh, which comprises many laws as part of Moshe’s final lengthy speech to the B’nei Yisrael throughout the Book of Devarim:

לֹֽא תְתַעֵב אֲדֹמִי כִּי אָחִיךָ הוּא לֹא תְתַעֵב מִצְרִי כִּי גֵר הָיִיתָ בְאַרְצוֹ׃

You shall not hate an Edomite, for he is your brother.
You shall not hate an Egyptian, for you were a stranger in their land.
(Devarim / Deuteronomy 23:8)

Hang on a minute – that’s a bit rough, isn’t it?

Edom are the descendants of Esav (Esau), who wanted to destroy his brother Yaakov (Jacob), and the Rabbis later equated Edom with Rome and its intention to destroy Judaism and the Jewish Kingdom.

According to the Torah narrative, the Egyptians enslaved the Jews for over 200 years, took everything they had, murdered their baby sons, forced them to build great cities and then made the workload even more humiliating by forcing them to make their own bricks from scratch, when there were plenty of rocks to be hewn.

What’s not to hate?

How do you understand these seemingly unfair demands?

Although the interactions between Esav and Yaakov can also be interpreted as Esav in a positive light, and Yaakov in a negative light, there has always been a portrayal of Esav as the one bearing the grudge, as being consumed with revenge. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks learns from here (in his book Lessons in Leadership) that we should not fight hate with hate, for then we all lose. We should dig deep to fight hate with love.

Step back, take a breath, look at the whole picture rather than one event. The Egyptians originally opened their borders and saved Jacob and his whole family from starvation during intense drought. The Egyptians also raised Joseph to second in command and let his vast, extended family settle in Goshen and thrive there… until a “Pharaoh arose who did not know Joseph”- and modern Egypt was the first Middle Eastern country to broker lasting peace with the modern State of Israel. Let us not dwell only on the negative, hurt and hate mongering. Find the moments of kindness, of shared positive experiences, hope and peace – to overtake the moments of anger and hatred.

If I hold hatred inside, it burns, it eats away at my soul. When people act towards us with intent in such a negative, destructive or abhorrent way, it is natural to be angry, to loathe, to bear grudges – to carry the weight of hate with us wherever we go. The Torah guides us here that, no matter the relationship we have with the person or group that has wronged us, we have to let go of the hatred to reconnect with ourselves as healthy, loving humans.

This Parasha, so close to the end of the cycle of Torah reading for the Jewish year, is always read during the month of Elul אלול, leading up to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. During this month, we are asked to focus not only on bettering ourselves, on looking back over the year that was in order to improve our own behaviour or attitudes, but also to hold in the front of our minds, ״אני לדודי ודודי לי״, “I am for my beloved and my beloved is for me”, a beautiful and powerful concept from Shir Hashirim, Song of Songs (6:3). The Torah demands that we “love our fellow humans as ourselves”, and this is an extension of that imperative. Hating others and bearing grudges not only destroys relationships, but it also eats away at our own souls, sitting there bitterly in our guts; a blockade to the love that should flow between us. I cannot be there for “my beloved” if I hate them; and they cannot be there for me if I hate them – even if they don’t bear any ill feeling towards me.

“No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” ~ Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom

Here, in Parashat Ki Teitzeh, the Torah agrees.

Shabbat Shalom