Why is it that so many conflicts divide humanity? Shouldn't we all be able to recognize our common identity as people, regardless of our race, nationality, gender or religion? Why is it that our labels, which ought to represent our most beautiful ideals, so often seem to create conflicts and divisions where none previously existed?
Apparently, part of our self-definition relies on forming borders -- limits where our own identity stops and that of other people begins. Knowing who I am requires knowing that I am not you. From that simple distinction, however, it is a small step to feeling threatened by a different way of being. If my form of identity is right for me, then why shouldn't it be right for you too? And if you have another form of identity, doesn't that challenge the nature of who I am?
Too often, groups of people view differing characteristics of other groups as threatening to their own integrity and survival. While there is no way to cultivate identity without making distinctions, the danger of distinctions is that they breed contempt for others.
That disdain confronted our ancestors when they moved into ancient Egypt, where Joseph reported to his brothers that "all shepherds are abhorrent to Egyptians." In the hierarchical society of ancient Egypt , many groups remained on the periphery. So it is not surprising that Egyptians hated shepherds.
While we can accept the fact of their scorn, Joseph never explains why the shepherds were the objects of Egyptian hatred. Several medieval commentators attempted to provide plausible reasons for this animosity. In developing these explanations, the parshanim (commentators) explore how social groups respond to those beyond their own self-understanding.
Rashi (11th Century France) asserts that the sheep in the flock represented Egyptian divinities. So he sees Egyptian abomination of shepherds as reflecting a resentment of power.
Hizkuni (13th Century France) builds on Rashi's construction, claiming that "they feared that their destiny depended on them and that they were slaves of the flock." Hizkuni's answer posits a sophisticated theory of powerlessness. The Egyptians felt powerless in the face of the divine sheep. They resented the control that the sheep could exercise over their lives, even as they feared their potency.
One way to live with their fear was to find someone who was even less in control than the Egyptians were. Since the shepherds cared for the flocks, the Egyptians could view them as the slaves of their gods. This bolstered their own sense of security, although at the expense of the shepherds.
Rabbi David Kimhi (the Radak --12th Century France) and Ibn Ezra (12th Century Spain ) raised a completely different motivation for hatred. They assumed that the Egyptians were macrobiotic -- refraining from eating meat, as well as any products which derived from animals (actually, Radak held that the Egyptians did drink milk). In this reading, the source of Egyptian hostility was that they saw no personal benefit from keeping sheep.
Indifferent toward whether other societies benefited from herding flocks, the Egyptians looked only to their own profit. Seeing no gain for themselves, they despised the shepherds for their fruitless endeavor. What is striking here is that the Egyptians claim the right to judge what is and is not useful for all humanity, not merely for their own society.
Finally, one parshan, the Rashbam (12th Century France), avoided trying to find a specific reason at all. Rather than trying to justify hatred, Rashbam simply said that the Egyptians found the shepherds abominable because they hated them. Simple in its scope, Rashbam's insight is that hatred is the product of a priori prejudice, not of ideology. Only after fostering a need to hate do we develop ideas or reasons to justify or to explain our hatred.
All of our justifications of bigotry presume the bigotry in the first place. Stripped of the hatred, the reasons simply become irrelevant. We need to guard against the hatred of others. Emerging from insecurity and a sense of weakness, hatred is an illegitimate tool for empowering ourselves. Rather than turning our distinctions into occasions for bigotry, let us see them as opportunities to learn from each other's different cultures, styles and histories. In the full rainbow of humanity shines the light of God's abiding love.
Amen. Shabbat Shalom.