Emuna for Chanukah: Competition and the Lonely Road to Heaven

by Rabbi Haggai Londin, Rosh Yeshivat Hesder Holon, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The period of Chanukah – the eight-day holiday that begins this year next Thursday night – is a good time to recall the cultural war that took place two millennia ago between ancient Greece and Israel. 

On the one hand, there is an idolatrous world that sees only blind nature and chance running the world. On the other hand, there exists the Jewish world that believes that we can overcome these restrictions.   

There are many ramifications to this struggle between us and Western culture, the offspring of ancient Greece. One of these is the concept of competition. The world in which we live is one in which competitiveness reigns in nearly every sphere. Whether it be sports, test scores, the workplace, style-and-fashion, and even in Torah – we find ourselves comparing ourselves and being compared to others.  

The competitions begin at an early age: A child comes home from school with a good test score, and the parents' first question is: "What did the other kids get?" The child thus learns very clearly that in order to be happy, it's not enough for you to be successful; the others have to be less successful.  

Then, of course, the parents continue this lesson with declarations such as, "Our daughter will go to the high school where the best girls go," "Why can't you be like your brother?", and even, "How dare they not accept our child to be a counselor in the youth movement?!"  

New recruits into the army are asked, "What, you're not in a combat battalion?" and high school graduate girls are reminded all-too-often, "Nearly all the girls in your class are married already!"  

All this is accompanied by our own thoughts: "I'll never be as pretty as her!" or "How come the Cohens [or Levis] have more money than me [or perhaps a larger house, or greener grass]?"  

Sometimes this feeling of competition reaches heights that are beyond the rational. I was once at a memorial service where it was festively announced that the last request of the deceased had been "to have the fanciest gravestone in the entire cemetery!" I kid you not. 

The first official competitive institution in history was the Olympics – and it is no wonder that modern competitive sports are rooted in a pagan society such as ancient Greece. Idolatrous man, who perceives the world as one of divisiveness and separation, sees reality as an arena of struggle between warring forces and gods. In the Greek pantheon, many gods are in constant conflict with each other: Zeus quarrels with Hera and Apollo, and Poseidon is always furious with Aphrodite or others. It's all-out war. A pattern of life is therefore established in the pagan culture that relates to everyday life as a war of existence and survival of the fittest. They are always checking to see who's faster, taller, stronger. 

Judaism, on the other hand, believes in a unified perception of reality, one that is a united organic entity. "Hear O Israel, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One." Life is not simply a collection of details uncoordinated with each other, but rather the very handiwork of G-d. This means that the success of each individual is beneficial for the entire whole, and his failure is that of the entire community. The materialistic understanding of life sees the world as limited, and therefore it's "either me or you." But in the faith-based outlook, the world is divine and infinite, and as such, there's room for everyone. 

Our Sages teach: "No one can touch any part of that which is prepared for someone else" (Yoma 38b). That is, everyone receives precisely what was designated for him by G-d. Faith in G-d means that no one's success comes at the expense of anyone else. Rather, G-d doles out exactly what each one is supposed to receive.  

Of course, sometimes competition is valuable in order to challenge ourselves to reach greater heights, such as in a good basketball game or chess match. "Jealousy among teachers [or writers, or scholars] increases wisdom" (Bava Batra 21a), for they will try harder to excel. But empowering the act of competing and making our sense of fulfillment conditional on a victory over someone else, is deplorable in its very essence.  

How do we free ourselves from the darkness of Greek culture? Here are a few ideas from every-day life: 

1. The less we watch or take part in competitions, the better. This includes the Bible quiz, game shows, and the like. It is good to announce to the children, "Whoever finishes studying a chapter in Bible or in Mishna [by a certain time] will receive a prize!" There is no need to have them compete and thus pit one child against another. 
2. We must learn to stand up for ourselves without trying to dwarf others. A saying attributed to Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, the father of the Mussar movement, states: "If you want to raise yourself up, build yourself a stage; don't dig a ditch for someone else." Of course, when applying for a job, it is justified to explain why you feel you are perfectly qualified for the position – but there is a thin line, that must not be crossed, between highlighting your virtues, and sneakily presenting the other's faults.   
3. Most important of all: Develop the ability to look at yourself – alone. Constantly comparing ourselves to others stems from over-emphasis on externals, and this is our unwanted legacy from Greece. The body, esthetics, materialism – these are what are valued in Greek culture. But Jewish culture is different: The more one learns Torah, refines his personality, and accustoms himself to find satisfaction in intellectual, emotional, and spiritual pursuits and accomplishments, the less threatened he will feel from the outside world. He will stand before the Master of the Universe and find there his fortune and happiness, without having to worry about others. This is a sense of freedom that releases him from all bonds. As he becomes a free man, he lights within himself a small candle that pushes away so much darkness.  

One of the sentences that have accompanied me throughout my life was told to me many years ago by a certain Torah scholar. I was engaged in justifying something I had done by claiming, "Everyone does it!" He looked at me in silence for a few seconds, and then said with special emphasis, "On your way up to Heaven, you're alone. Don't forget that." I didn't.