Please consider supporting our mission to help everyone better understand and become smarter about the Jewish world. A gift of any amount helps keep our platform free of advertising and accessible to all.
This is a guest essay written by Nir Menussi, an Orthodox Rabbi, author, and teacher.
You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.
Based on the teachings of Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh
It is no secret that Judaism draws a sharp distinction between the people of Israel and other nations.
Every Saturday night, during the ceremony of havdalah (literally, “separation”), we even bless God for “distinguishing between Israel and the nations.”
Why is it so vital for Judaism to maintain such a distinction from other nations and their cultures? Why do Jews strictly avoid intermarriage, limit cultural assimilation, and uphold rigorous conversion standards?
This question lies at the very heart of Jewish identity. Moreover, it directly impacts our lives today, shaping many of the disputes and divisions within Israeli society regarding the character of the nation state. Addressing this issue from the perspective of the inner dimensions of Torah — Kabbalah and Chassidut — is therefore of central importance.
Submission, Separation, Sweetening
When approaching the topic of Israel’s distinction from other nations from the perspective of Chassidic teachings, the first concept to grasp is that the very word used for “distinction,” havdalah, forms the central stage in the fundamental triad of concepts introduced by the Baal Shem Tov, called “submission” (hachna’ah), “separation” (havdalah), and “sweetening” (hamtakah).
According to the Baal Shem Tov (a Jewish mystic and healer who is regarded as the founder of Hasidic Judaism), every complete spiritual process must follow these three stages. One must first practice “submission” (humble themselves, curb their pride, and acknowledge their limitations). That should be followed by “separation” (self-refinement and the removal of negative traits). Finally, the process should lead to “sweetening” (the attainment of personal wholeness and self-expression).
These concepts suggest that Israel’s separation from the nations is not an isolated phenomenon, but part of a broader process. It should be preceded by a certain “submission” with regard to the nations, and lead to a certain “sweetening” in relation to them. It is impossible to fully appreciate what appears to be the Jewish tendency to isolationism without comprehending this sequence.
Submission: Equality Before God
In the context of the relations between Israel and the nations, submission means acknowledging the fundamental equality between Israel and the other nations.
All human beings have been created by the same Creator. All our virtues and talents were granted to us from Him, and we are all entirely dependent on Him for our existence and sustenance. When we come to appreciate this, we realize we are all equal in the eyes of God.
Furthermore, since God is perfect and infinite, any distinctions in greatness or spiritual rank between us are cancelled by the fact that we are infinitely distant from Him. God is “everything” and before Him we are all “as nothing.”
This humility extends beyond humanity and encompasses all of creation. In the words attributed to the Baal Shem Tov:
“Do not say in your heart that you are greater than your fellow. ... Recognize that you are like all other creatures, created solely to serve the Creator. How are you superior to a worm? It serves its Creator to the best of its abilities, while you, like a worm, are but dust and ashes. Were it not for the intellect that God granted you, you would be no better than a worm.”
“Therefore, even compared to a worm you hold no inherent superiority, let alone compared to other people. Contemplate that you, the worm, and all creatures are friends in creation. None possess power or merit beyond what the Creator has granted them, and this awareness must remain with you always.”1
This perspective provides the foundational attitude necessary for healthy relationships with others, including the Jewish people’s relationship with the rest of humanity. It is the starting point for all distinctions and separations that follow.
Even when God took the Jewish people out of Egypt — marking the beginning of their separation as a unique nation — this act was described as “taking one nation out of another nation.”2 Israel was initially a nation like all others. Only after acknowledging this equality could they be elevated to the status of a “holy nation.”
Acknowledging this equality is not only about accepting a profound truth. It also serves as a safeguard, preventing the idea of separation from becoming a tool for condescension, hatred, or oppression.
It is important to emphasize that genuine equality is only possible within the framework of faith in an infinite Creator before whom all are equal. Without this foundation, there is no compelling reason to assume equality among beings, and any social or political ideal of equality becomes an artificial construct imposed on reality, one that it will eventually reject.
Separation: Israel’s Chosenness
Building on the humble acknowledgment of the equality of all creation, we can explore the concept of separation between Israel and the nations. This separation is rooted in the belief that the people of Israel were chosen to receive the most complete revelation of divine wisdom, the Torah, and to use it to sanctify and perfect all of existence, transforming it into a vessel for the Divine presence.
On a personal and collective level, this distinction represents our commitment to align with the Creator, whom we humbly acknowledged in the previous stage, and to approach reality as His emissaries.
The principle of Israel’s chosenness is so fundamental to Judaism that it is impossible to truly understand it without it. Even those seeking universal lessons from Judaism (a subject discussed in the third stage below) must grapple with this concept and its necessity.
Why couldn’t the Torah be given to the entire world? Alternatively, why couldn’t it have been given to Israel, but without so strongly distinguishing them from other nations?
A helpful analogy for understanding the need for distinction can be found in nature, in the transition from the realm of the chemical to that of the biological. This transition hinges on a simple yet profound feature: the membrane. The membrane, which encloses and separates a living cell from its environment, provides the protective conditions necessary for the complex processes occurring within. Without this boundary, biological activity would dissolve back into the surrounding chemical environment.
Similarly, every leap to a higher level of organization in nature requires a form of separation that enables new complexities to emerge. Human society, for instance, must distance itself from untamed nature to establish civilizations — protected spaces where higher pursuits, such as art and philosophy, can flourish.
The Torah’s purpose is to foster a similar leap, this time not from survival to civilization but from civilization to a culture of faith — a life lived in awareness of the Divine reality underlying creation, where every detail of existence is shaped by its connection to that reality. Like all other leaps, this leap too involves an increase in complexity, this time the cultivation of a higher state of consciousness.
Those familiar with Torah study will recognize that it demands constant refinement of thought, challenging ordinary concepts and categories. Good and evil, beauty and ugliness, material and spiritual, fate and free will, logic and paradox — regarding all these and more, the Torah requires its students to “leap” to a whole new level of thinking.
To facilitate this leap, a kind of “membrane” is necessary — a protective boundary that allows the unique organism that is Jewish thought to grow and thrive. Like a delicate house of cards that can only be built in a sheltered space, Torah study and the cultivation of a life of faith require relatively insulated conditions to flourish. Assimilation threatens to blend the Torah with general human culture, thereby losing its unique message.
Many struggle to accept the idea of chosenness, largely out of a fear that it could lead to national condescension, claims of superiority over other nations. This concern is valid, and that’s why the submission stage is a crucial reminder that Israel’s chosenness must rest on a foundation of equality.
However, just as submission is extreme in nature (“What makes me greater than a worm?”), so too must the separation be. It is a radical separation designed to cultivate a fundamentally different consciousness from that of other nations. The Torah aims to embed the infinite Divine within finite human life, a task requiring the creation of a sacred space, quite distinct from general culture.
When built upon submission, separation becomes a source not of pride but a profound responsibility. A key passage in the Torah expresses this idea:
“For you are a holy people to the Lord your God; the Lord your God has chosen you to be His treasured nation from among all peoples on the face of the earth. It was not because you were more numerous than all the peoples that the Lord desired and chose you, for you are the smallest of peoples.”3
The sages interpret “the smallest of peoples” to mean “you make yourselves small [i.e. humble yourselves] before others.” The less we feel entitled to chosenness, the more we become worthy of it.
Sweetening: Mutual Enrichment
We finally arrive at the third stage, sweetening, which reveals a profound insight: the separation of Israel from the nations is only an intermediate step leading to the ultimate purpose — the creation of a harmonious relationship between Israel and the nations.
Sweetening always brings the process full circle, reconnecting to the humility of submission. In this context, it means reestablishing an equal and reciprocal relationship between Israel and the nations, now enriched by virtue of the separation which the previous stage established.
The sweetening stage represents Judaism’s Messianic vision, where Israel inspires the nations with the light of the Torah, while simultaneously learning from the nations’ wisdom.
The prophets spoke extensively about this:
“In the days to come… many nations will go and say, ‘Let us go up to the mountain of the Lord… that He may teach us His ways and that we may walk in His paths; for the Torah will come forth from Zion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.’”4
“I will make you a light for the nations, that My salvation may reach the ends of the earth.”5
The acceptance of worldly wisdom by Israel is also a theme explored in much of Jewish thought, especially certain Kabbalistic and Chassidic writings (though it is hinted at in Scripture and rabbinic literature).
The Zohar envisions a “flood” of spiritual and scientific knowledge in the Messianic era, blending the “higher wisdom” of the Torah with the “lower wisdom” of human innovation. Chassidic thought elaborates that integrating science and art with Torah reveals the “primordial Torah” that predates creation and forms an essential part of the redemptive vision.
This mutual enrichment requires separation. Only when Torah and other wisdoms are clearly differentiated can their unique contributions be recognized and integrated. The clearer the distinction, the greater the motivation for mutual exchange. The same goes for the opposite: When the separation is blurred the result may be indifferent coexistence, where each side seeks neither to influence the other nor to learn from them.
This mutual enrichment sweetens the bitterness that accompanied separation. While some relish the separation stage, others feel uncomfortable with it and yearn for the harmony of sweetening. The challenge today is to bridge the gap between these perspectives.
Tzava’at HaRivash, Section 12
Deuteronomy 4:34
Deuteronomy 7:6–7
Isaiah 2:2–3
Isaiah 49:6
The Rabbi brings up many good points and concepts, and I've learned from this essay. The reason for the following questions posed in the essay don't appear in the Torah: "Why do Jews strictly avoid intermarriage, limit cultural assimilation, and uphold rigorous conversion standards?" Jews of note in the Torah intermarried, assimilated, yet maintained steadfast as Jews and represent as essential figures in Judaism. This is seen most notably in the examples of Moses and Joseph, both intermarried, both assimilated, yet both are central figures and examples of Judaism. As for rigorous conversion standards, where do they appear in the Torah? What chapters, where is it cited? When Ruth followed Naomi after the death of Boaz, she simply said "Your people shall become my people, your G-d my G-d," and she was a Jew. I've always felt the rigourish and judgmental Jewish conversion standards, which I understand began after the destruction of the 2nd Temple, are one major reason there aren't billions of Jews in the world instead of billions of Christians and Muslims, and perhaps one reason we still await moshiach.
I see the separation, but I don't see the mutual exchange, because the separation is too great.