Being Secure in Your Faith
Rebbetzin Rachel at Vimanmek Mansion in Bangkok, Thailand
Yesterday I went to Vimanmek Mansion in Bangkok, one of the Thai king’s royal palaces. I had a free ticket, so I figured I might as well go. As it turned out, my ticket also included admission to the dozen other buildings on the premises, which housed a multitude of museums. Had I realized how much there was to see, I would have gone earlier and spent the whole day there instead of just the afternoon!
While I was in one of the museums, I overheard another visitor lamenting to her guide, “She’s got her hair covered; why can’t I wear my hat?” ”You need to wear a hair covering like that and tell them that you’re Muslim,” replied the guide. I couldn’t stop myself – wanting to be helpful, I offered that sometimes Jewish women do cover their hair with hats, rather than scarves. ”Well, my parents are Jewish!” exclaimed the woman. “Then you’re Jewish, too!” I replied. ”No, I’m not! I’m an atheist!” came the insistent reply. Sweetly I told her, “Well, whether or not you believe in it or follow it, you’re Jewish under Jewish law.” “No I’m not!” she exclaimed, really irritated. “I’ve had this argument a dozen times with my cousins. I’m not Jewish!”
I wasn’t interested in having an argument with a stranger, but what did strike me was just how defensive she was. I hadn’t told her anything other than basic facts – Jewish women cover their hair with hats and under Jewish law, she’s also Jewish. Both things are facts outside of her (or my) control, and both were communicated sweetly and with love and a smile. Yet, she was quick to bristle and get defensive, repeatedly insisting to me that she’s an atheist. Why?
We tend to go on the defensive most when we are afraid of being wrong. When we have some insecurity that is bothering us from within, we jump to defend ourselves. We only get defensive when we have a real weakness.
Imagine this, you are a small, thin woman, and a big, strong man approaches you threateningly on a dark, deserted street. There’s nowhere to run, so you take on your best karate stance and prepare to defend yourself. You jump to your own defense because you sense your own vulnerability. Imagine, however, that instead of a big, strong man coming to attack you, it is a little toddler having a tantrum coming to attack you. You wouldn’t put on your karate stance. You might even laugh because no matter how slight you are or how strong the toddler, he can’t actually do you any real harm. You feel secure. You don’t have to go on the defensive. You know you’re safe.
I was thinking of this yesterday when I encountered this woman. I was calm and serene, peaceful. I did not need to argue with her, I did not feel threatened when her guide referred to me as a Muslim or when she insisted on being an atheist. Neither of those things threatens me or my beliefs. Yet, me mentioning her being Jewish under halacha threw her onto the defensive right away. Obviously, she does not find the same calm serenity in her atheism that I do in my Judaism.
And you can’t say “Oh, it’s because her cousins are always arguing with her.” – It doesn’t matter how much other people argue with you. If you’re at peace with your faith, it won’t be shaken by others arguing with you.
It is obvious to me that this woman has a Jewish neshama (soul) crying out to return and it began agitating within her when it heard someone mention the laws it is crying out to follow. That is the reason why so many secular Jews have so much respect for people of other faiths, but not for the strict adherents to their own faith. Only their own faith is a threat, because only their own faith calls the neshama home to Hashem.
