The diverse lights of the hanukkia and the diversity of our world

Our challenge today is to recognize that diversity is not a liberal value; it is the way of the world.

By MICHAEL M. COHEN
IDF soldiers light on the northern border, 1994 (photo credit: ALEX ROZKOVSKY/IDF SPOKESMAN)
IDF soldiers light on the northern border, 1994
(photo credit: ALEX ROZKOVSKY/IDF SPOKESMAN)
This year the first day of Hanukka and Christmas fall on the same day. In 1968, Hanukka and Ramadan ended on the same date, and the next day was Christmas Eve. That evening in 1968, one-quarter of the world’s population saw, for the first time, images of the Earth taken by the Apollo 8 astronauts from a lunar orbit. Our planet, a beautiful marble ball, appeared lonely and vulnerable floating against the black backdrop of the universe. The pictures captured the imagination of the world, triggering something in the consciousness of humanity that gave birth to the environmental movement and, two years later, the first Earth Day.
To frame that moment, the Apollo 8 crew read the first 10 lines from the Book of Genesis. The opening chapters not only include the account of the creation of the earth, but over and over tell us of the importance of diversity.
In that first chapter of Genesis, all of creation is called “good,” reminding us of the value of the multiplicity of the world that we are a part of. The text also teaches us, by describing everything created before humans as “good,” that all things have intrinsic value in and of themselves beyond any value that we humans may place on them. Once humans are created, “very good” is the adjective. An anthropocentric reading says this is because the world was created for our needs, and once we are in place we can do what we want with the world. A biocentric reading, which I prefer, says that “very good” only means that creation was complete, and we humans were the last piece of the biological puzzle.
This reading is supported by the reality that if humans were to disappear from the face of the earth, all that had been created before us would go on quite well, actually better, without our presence. However, if a stratum of the diversity of life that had been created before humans were to disappear, we, and all that had been created after it, would be in serious trouble.
In a bit of Heavenly humor on Darwin’s survival of the fittest, it is actually the smallest and least physically strong species, like the butterflies, bees, and amoebas, which hold the survival of the world in place. Unlike other species of the planet, we have the power to commit biocide if we do not protect and preserve those smaller forms of life.
The importance of diversity is emphasized a few chapters later, where Noah is told to bring pairs of each species onto the ark so after the flood they can replenish the earth. After the flood, God places a rainbow in the sky as a reminder to never again destroy the world. It is both symbol and metaphor: a single ray of light refracted through water, the basic source of all life, produces a prism of colors. As with the Creation story, we are again reminded that the foundation of diversity is that we all come from one Source. On its most profound level, this understanding should give us the awareness that we have a relationship with, and are connected to, the rest of humanity and creation.
Immediately following the story of Noah we read about the Tower of Babel. The whole account is only nine verses. The conventional reading is that its message is against diversity; the babel of languages at the end of the story is understood as a punishment. The late philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz presents a different reading. For Leibowitz, Babel represents a fascist totalitarian state where the aims of the state are valued more than the individual. A similar point is made by the Italian Renaissance commentator Sforno, and more recently by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks in his book Not in God’s Name: Confronting Religious Violence, where he references
Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin’s (the Netziv) commentary on the Tower. In such a society, diverse thought and expression is frowned upon. The text tells us that everyone “had the same language, and the same words.”
But we note in the genealogies that link the Noah and Babel stories that the “nations were divided by their lands, each one with its own language, according to their clans, by their nations.” Leibowitz sees the babel of languages not as punishment but a corrective return to how things had been, and are supposed to be.
The opening of the Bible understands diversity not as a noun but as a verb; the basic action of life as we know it. Its importance is underscored by the many references in its opening chapters that highlight diversity as a foundation of the world. Such an orientation is essential for our survival as a species.
Last month Haim Gouri received an honorary degree from Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem. In his acceptance speech he said, “Sometimes I reflect on the method for preparing the k’toret, the incense burned in the ancient Temple. Many spices were combined to produce just the right fragrance. We must not underestimate the importance of the different flavors of our identity. They help to create a rich whole.”
The lights of the hanukkia remind us of the rituals of our ancient Temple in Jerusalem. As Gouri points out, and the opening chapters of the Torah remind us, our challenge today is to recognize that diversity is not a liberal value; it is the way of the world.
We know that the environment is healthier with greater diversity; coral reefs and rain forests being prime examples. It is also true for humanity. We are better off because of the different religions, nations, cultures, and languages that comprise our human family.
The writer, a rabbi, is a member of the faculty of the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies, where Israelis, Palestinians, Jordanians and internationals, as well as a diverse group of students, faculty and researchers, come together.