Vayigash
Genesis 44:18-47:27
Ezekiel 37:15-37:28
Does altruism truly exist? Can we truly put our own needs aside in order to help another? These questions come to mind when reading the first verse in this week’s Torah portion: “Then Judah went up to him [Joseph] and said, ‘Please, my lord, let your servant [Judah] appeal to my lord’ ” (Genesis 44:18).
This speech is delivered by Judah as he steps forward to rescue his brother Benjamin after Benjamin has been accused of stealing a valuable goblet. In doing so, he puts his own life on the line. Judah could be arrested on the spot. It certainly would have been easier to walk away, let Benjamin be arrested and go on with his life.
What would motivate someone to come forward and put his or her own life and self-interest on the line to help someone else? Why should we sacrifice for others? After all, our own survival ought to be our ultimate concern.
Altruistic behavior has puzzled biologists and other scientists. Many scientists accept a purely material view of life. There is Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest, that organisms do whatever is necessary to survive and flourish. Bees, ants and certain other species practice self-sacrifice, often trading their own lives for the good of the nest or hive. But can this behavior be applied to higher organisms, especially human beings?
Zoologist Richard Dawkins discusses some of these issues in his book “The Selfish Gene.” Dawkins writes, “We, and all other animals, are machines created by our genes. This entitles us to expect certain qualities in our genes. Perhaps it is a predominant quality to be expected in a successful gene is ruthless selfishness. This gene selfishness will usually give rise to selfishness in individual behavior. However, there are special circumstances in which a gene can achieve its own selfish goals best by fostering a limited form of altruism at the level of individual animals.
” ‘Special’ and ‘limited’ are important words in the last sentence. Much as we might wish to believe otherwise, universal love and the welfare of the species as a whole are concepts that simply do not make evolutionary sense.”
Biologically, a gene will do what is necessary to protect itself. It may also protect its own closest biological relatives because they share genes. But the gene is not concerned with helping others, the stranger, those who are most biologically distant. If we accept the brutal, materialistic view of the world, there is little motivation to move beyond one’s own family to help others.
A religious outlook would reject the materialistic view of Dawkins and other biologists. We are more than our genes, more than the physical matter from which our bodies are built. We contain not only the dust of the earth but the breath of God. Every human being is created in the image of God, and every human being deserves our love and protection. The Torah teaches, “Do not stand idly by your brother’s blood” (Leviticus 19:16). The term “brother” means more than our biological brother. All humans are our brothers and sisters — our prophetic tradition teaches, “Have we not all one father? Has not one God created us?” (Malachi 2:10)
We might consider a religious outlook where we care for the needs of our fellow human beings, even if there is some personal cost to us. We share our food with the hungry, even if it leaves us less to eat. We visit the sick, even if it makes us uncomfortable. We comfort the mourners, even if it makes us sad. We rescue captives, even if it involves some personal danger. We give our money to help those in need, even if we would prefer to spend it for our own selves. These rules are true for our family, for our neighbors, for the greater community, and especially for the stranger.
Taking the perspective of the scientific, materialistic view of human nature, we view the world simply as survival of the fittest. Altruistic behavior may be limited to what will perpetuate our own genes. The Torah comes along to teach us that we are more than “machines created by our genes.” We are God’s creation and we carry within us the very breath of our Creator. That gives us responsibilities toward our fellow humans that can give us pause each and every day.
Rabbi Larry Raphael is the senior rabbi of Congregation Sherith Israel in San Francisco.