Perception is reality: The importance of a narrative of Jewish unity

2 hours ago 5
ARTICLE AD BOX

The stories we tell ourselves define our reality – especially in turbulent times, when a clear narrative can be the difference between confusion and clarity, between despair and resilience.

By MOSHE TARAGIN FEBRUARY 7, 2025 22:21
 SHUTTERSTOCK) STRIKING A balance between living within our personal narrative and staying grounded in reality is a delicate task. (photo credit: SHUTTERSTOCK)

The story of our exodus from Egypt feels almost like a fairy tale. For centuries, we endured suffering under a harsh and oppressive ruler. Trapped in a cycle of hardship, we cried out to God for help. He responded, intervening in history to free His chosen people, who had long been enslaved.

God led us out of Egypt, guiding us into the wilderness, where He provided for our basic needs: food, shelter, and care. With unconditional trust, we followed Him into the desert, embracing His will and word at Sinai, marking the beginning of our journey as a nation bound to His commandments.

Our trusting and loving exodus, along with our journey through the desert, laid the foundation of our national identity and continues to shape and define our relationship with God. In the book of Shemot (Exodus), the exodus is presented as an idealized, almost mythical story of divine intervention and unwavering human faith.

Parallel stories 

However, there are other depictions of the exodus that are far less idealized and far more complex. In Chapter 20 of Ezekiel, the prophet describes God’s invitation for us to “take the first step” by purging the foreign gods we had collected in our homes. Yet, stubborn and resistant, we refused.

In response, God considered annihilating us and starting anew with a different nation. Ultimately, we were redeemed solely for the sake of His name so that other nations would not question His power to liberate His people.

The splitting of the Red Sea: A biblical miracle (Illusteative). (credit: FLICKR)

Similarly, in Psalm 106, King David emphasizes our rebellion at the Sea of Reeds: “Your parents in Egypt did not heed My miracles, and they rebelled against Me at the sea.” This paints a stark picture of disobedience and doubt during a critical moment of our redemption.

Evidently, the story of our liberation from Egypt is multifaceted, containing aspects of faith, loyalty, and deliverance, coupled with moments of rebellion, doubt, and defiance. For various reasons, Shemot presents a more optimistic and rosy narrative, omitting the darker elements. By contrast, several prophets highlighted the less favorable aspects of our redemption, revealing that it was not only a tale of triumph but also one of struggle and challenge. Everything depends upon the chosen narrative.

Personal narratives

These differences in the various narratives of the exodus serve as a reminder that our “perception shapes reality.” We possess the power to create our own stories in life.

We can choose to fixate on problems and negativity, crafting a narrative marked by bitterness and pessimism, or we can embrace the more harmonious aspects of our lives, creating a narrative of hope. Our experience is defined by the narrative we create, and we have the power to shape it.

Striking a balance between living within our personal narrative and staying grounded in reality is a delicate task. If we become too cocooned in our idealized stories, we risk detaching ourselves from the truth and slipping into naivety. Alternatively, we must also be cautious about what we expose ourselves to, the aspects of life we emphasize, and the prominence they hold in our narratives.


Stay updated with the latest news!

Subscribe to The Jerusalem Post Newsletter


Honesty or inspiration?

Take, for example, the trend in many Orthodox circles to craft hagiographic biographies of Torah leaders, omitting any reference to their human limitations or flaws. Many oppose this approach, arguing it lacks intellectual honesty. For sure, intellectual honesty is essential for growth and authenticity. When we deceive others or withhold the truth, we lose the ability to recognize the truth about ourselves.

On the other hand, by carefully curating the profiles, we create images, construct narratives, and idealize values through the lives of these towering figures. What is compromised in terms of intellectual honesty is compensated for by the inspiration these stories provide and by the powerful ideas they bring to life.

It is a delicate balance – between intellectual honesty and the construction of healthy, uplifting narratives. There is no simple right or wrong answer for the complex interplay between honesty and inspiration.

When the Talmud states, “Whoever claims that David sinned is himself a sinner,” it isn’t denying the facts of King David’s actions. Rather, it encourages us to build a narrative around David that doesn’t center on his sin.

If we focus only on his shortcomings, we diminish his greatness and deprive ourselves of an inspiring role model. By elevating his virtues and sidestepping his failures, we preserve the idealism that can motivate us.

Similarly, the Talmud reports that after Rabbi Yehuda Hanassi’s passing, a decree was issued that anyone who declared his death should be punished. The community’s intention was not to resurrect the great sage but to protect the collective consciousness from dwelling on the pain of his loss. By avoiding discussions of his death, the narrative would not be one of irreparable loss but of triumph and recognition of his monumental achievements.

Life, relationships, and faith are deeply layered and intricate, and our experience is framed by the narratives we construct. We must be discerning in what we choose to include and what we choose to leave out in these narratives. Avoiding certain aspects is not an act of cowardice or dishonesty – it is a deliberate choice in how we write our own stories. 

Narratives and moral clarity

We are currently immersed in a deeply challenging war that is forcing us to reevaluate the narratives we build. We have achieved remarkable victories, but these are precarious and can be swiftly undone. We fight a righteous battle, even as we are branded as colonizers and accused of crimes against humanity.

We must tread carefully in shaping our narrative. We must remain open to all facts yet also consciously curate the story we tell ourselves and the world. In an era where news is decentralized by social media, we possess the power to choose the sources through which we receive information.

By isolating ourselves or excessively limiting our information flow, we risk creating unrealistic echo chambers. On the other hand, if we expose ourselves to every narrative without discernment, we risk losing control of the story we tell ourselves and in which we live.

Be mindful of what you watch, who you trust, and the lens through which you view the world. Many of us have already exercised control over the information we consume. We chose not to gaze upon the horrific images that disrespected the victims of the Oct. 7 atrocities.

We resisted being manipulated by Hamas’s psychological warfare, refusing to gawk at their staged videos of hostages. This same discernment must guide how we process this righteous war that we have fought with immense courage, ensuring that our victories and the miracles that have accompanied us are not mischaracterized as failures.

The ‘achdut’ narrative 

This deliberate shaping of our narrative must also guide how we perceive ourselves from within. We are a deeply divided people, but we are also deeply united. We have come together as one to defend ourselves, even as internal divisions linger. Some, whether for political reasons or simply by nature, will always focus on social fissures and magnify them. 

But unity, or achdut, depends largely on the narrative we choose to construct. If we focus on the points of convergence, on what binds us together, we live as a united nation. If we fixate on the sharp disagreements and fractures, then perception becomes reality, and we risk splintering further.

The stories we tell ourselves define our reality – especially in turbulent times, when a clear narrative can be the difference between confusion and clarity, between despair and resilience.

The writer is a rabbi at the hesder Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with YU ordination and an MA in English literature from CUNY. His most recent book, Reclaiming Redemption: Deciphering the Maze of Jewish History (Mosaica Press), is available in bookstores or at www.reclaimingredemption.com. 

Read Entire Article