What kind of nation are we?
In 1964, Look magazine ran a cover story entitled “The Vanishing American Jew.” The article explained why in all certainty no Jews would be left in the United States in the 21st century. It’s not the first or last prediction about us to be wrong. More recently, there was an article entitled, “Jews: The Ever Dying, Ever Renewing, People.”
Many of us are proud of another designation: “Start-up Nation.” Despite catching on after the popular 2009 book authored by Dan Senor and Saul Singer, the phrase first appeared in a November 2000 article about Israel by Stacy Perman titled “Startup Nation.”
I say we – Jews and Israel – are all the above and more. Just like Judaism is more than a religion, Jews are more than just one variety of nation or people. It is impossible to quantify our eternality. In Innocents Abroad, Mark Twain wrote:
“If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one quarter of one percent of the human race…Properly, the Jew ought hardly to be heard of, but he is heard of, has always been heard of. He is as prominent on the planet as any other people, and his importance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness of his bulk. His contributions to the world’s list of great names in literature, science, art, music, finance, medicine and abstruse learning are also very out of proportion to the weakness of his numbers…All things are mortal but the Jews; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?”
Mark Twain left the question unanswered, but I have a suggestion. The secret to Jewish immortality is that we are a Lonely Nation.
This week, I heard a new suggestion for the Jews: Pariah Nation. It wasn’t an epithet hurled at us by enemies. It’s the title of a podcast by Donniel Hartman and Yossi Klein Halevi, two men I know and admire – even if I don’t always agree with them. They were discusiing how Israelis and Jews are being condemned, harassed, and even attacked since October 7. Even staunch allies are beginning to turn on us. Can Israel restore its moral credibility?
The very question rubbed me the wrong way. Why do we have to be so concerned with what others think of us? As Balaam declared, our lot as Jews is to remain apart.
“Hein am levadad yishkon u-va’goyim lo yitchashav - It is a nation that dwells alone, not reckoned among the nations.” (Bamidbar 23:9)
We are a lonely
nation.
At first glance, this sounds more like an indictment than a compliment. In a world that increasingly celebrates inclusion and blending in, the idea of being “apart” can feel isolating. But the Torah presents this separation not as a flaw, but as a feature - a spiritual and existential strength essential to Jewish survival and flourishing.
The Jewish people have always been different. From the moment Avraham was called “ivri,” the one who stands on the other side, we have been defined by distinction. We eat differently. We pray differently. We sanctify time differently. Jewish law, values, and worldview often run counter to prevailing norms. While this separation has, at times, made Jewish life more difficult - subjecting our people to discrimination, persecution, and exile, it has also served as the very glue that holds us together
Jewish history offers a powerful paradox: the times and places where Jews tried hardest to assimilate were often the places where Jewish identity declined. In contrast, when we embraced our uniqueness - whether under oppression or in freedom - we not only endured, we thrived.
Being alone or different is not a burden; it’s a mission.
As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote, “Judaism is the counter-voice in the conversation of humankind. As Jews, we do not follow the majority merely because it is the majority. In age after age, century after century, Jews were prepared to [take the road less travelled]. It is what makes a nation of leaders.”
There is a deep beauty and strength in “Jewish loneliness.” It means living with a heightened awareness of time, food, speech, and action. It means belonging to a story that stretches across millennia and uniquely connects us to Jews in every corner of the world. And it can mean being a lone voice against all the other voices that will never understand that we are a nation that dwells apart.
On June 22, 1982, Joe Biden was a Senator from Delaware and confronted then Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin during his Senate Foreign Relations committee testimony, threatening to cut off aid to Israel. Begin famously retorted:
“I am not a Jew with trembling knees. I am a proud Jew with 3,700 years of civilized history. Nobody came to our aid when we were dying in the gas chambers and ovens. Nobody came to our aid when we were striving to create our country. We paid for it. We fought for it. We died for it. We will stand by our principles. We will defend them. And, when necessary, we will die for them again, with or without your aid.”
Being Jewish requires no explanation or justification. Israel’s first prime minister, David Ben-Gurion, famously quipped: “It does matters not what the goyim say, but what the Jews do.”
In today’s world, many Jews feel pressure to blend in culturally, politically, or spiritually. The unlikely voice of Balaam reminds us that being alone isn’t something to be discouraged about; it’s something to be fortified by. Jewish distinctiveness is not a wall; it’s a foundation. It allows us to contribute meaningfully to the broader world without losing who we are.
Jews are many things and defy categorization. We are proud of being a Start-up Nation. We are most certainly not the Pariah Nation. We should revel in being the Lonely Nation. Let us never forget that no matter what our detractors say, it is through our sacred aloneness that we continue to play our part in the unfolding drama of redemption.