“And they (plural) traveled from Refidim, and they (plural) came to the Desert of Sinai, and they (plural) camped in the desert, and Israel camped (singular) opposite the mountain” (Sh’mos 19:2). The contrast between how the nation is described before they got to Mt. Sinai, using plural terms to indicate that there were separate individuals when they traveled from Refidim, when they entered the desert and when they camped in the desert, with how they were described when they camped at Mt. Sinai, as one unit (“like one man with one heart,” see Rashi) is blatant. The advantage of being one unit is included in the Pesach Hagadah when we sing “it would have been enough [of a reason for us to praise G-d] had He just brought us to Mt. Sinai without giving us the Torah,” as other than receiving the Torah there, what purpose would being brought to Mt. Sinai serve if not for bringing the unity that came along with it? The positive attributes of unity would seem to be universally recognized, yet after we left Mt. Sinai, it has been rather elusive. Why has unity been so difficult to re-attain, and how can it be achieved?

In order to try to understand why we still suffer from a lack of unity despite craving it, it is important to first try to define what unity means, and what it can’t (or shouldn’t) mean. We are all individuals; being united doesn’t mean losing our individuality, but using our individual strengths to achieve a common purpose. The question therefore becomes what common purpose do we share that can possibly unify us. Included in this question is who the “we” are. Are we hoping to unite all of humanity, or to just set an example for them? While having a world without conflict would be nice, I don’t think anyone realistically thinks this can be accomplished, at least not as a starting point. Perhaps if we, as a people, can become united and thereby demonstrate how advantageous it would be for the whole world to be united, it can be attempted. Until then, though, it can’t be what we are trying (initially) to achieve.

Is uniting the Jewish people any more realistic than uniting all of humanity? Before we get to the thorny issue of what is meant by “the Jewish people” (and why attempting to unite only Jews isn’t a form of bigotry), we can discuss smaller-scale levels of unity that can be attempted, to see if they can be applied to achieving wider unity. Communities, even the community within a single synagogue or organization, can also suffer from a lack of unity, and it might be a bit outrageous to try to unite the larger Jewish community if serious dissention exists within its smaller ones. Some of the tactics necessary to overcome this dissension apply to any size community, but the smaller the community is, the easier it is to overcome any obstacle to unity, as its unified sense of purpose is easier to define (and implement). Members of a synagogue or organization are interested (and invested) in the success of the synagogue, but don’t always agree as to what its focus should be or which direction to take. Nonetheless, this is often spelled out in a mission statement, and even though agreeing on a mission statement can be difficult, as long as it is the result of an agreement (rather than being imposed), the common purpose has been defined. (This does not preclude changes to the mission statement being attempted, whereby the process has to start from scratch.) Nevertheless, within an organization, there should be agreed-upon guidelines within which all decisions are made (and implemented), i.e. its bylaws, and as long as these internal guidelines are kept (unfortunately not always easily accomplished), defining the purpose of the organization and carrying it out is well within reach.

As tempting as it might be to say that when attempting to unite people of different organizations and/or synagogues Jewish law should play a similar role to bylaws, I don’t know of any section of Jewish law that provides such guidelines in a clearly-enough defined way that it can assist in achieving community-wide unity. Nevertheless, if there is a self-evident “mission statement” that we can all rally around, an attempt to achieve unity can be made.

There are Jewish communities consisting of several synagogues (of multiple denominations) that work together to enhance their community. In these situations, the common purpose is often self-evident (such as growing the community), and differences of opinion are more easily put aside in order to accomplish the shared goal. The more each smaller community (e.g. individual synagogue) needs the other smaller communities (the other local synagogues) to accomplish that goal, the more likely it is that they will be able to work together to do so. However, if the members of a synagogue think they can accomplish their goals without the help of other synagogues, it will be much more difficult to get them to work together, even if all the synagogues share the same goal. Which leads us to a discussion as to whether unity can be a goal onto itself or is only a vehicle to accomplish another goal.

If unity is its own goal, we should be trying to attain it whether it can help us accomplish other things or not. On the other hand, without the motivation being a higher purpose that can only be achieved through unity, those who don’t buy into the need for unity in and of itself won’t work towards it. We may all agree that the less dissention there is between people the better, but that is not the same as being united by a common goal. Internal peace may (and I mean may) be a prerequisite for unity, but a lack dissension does not automatically mean there’s unity. The need to be united in order to be united (without that unity serving a higher purpose) is a bit contrived, but no more (or less) contrived than coming up with a shared goal just to be able to promote unity. Therefore, in order to attain real unity, we need not only (1) a common purpose, but (2) a purpose that cannot be accomplished (at least not as well) if we don’t all work on it together, (3) a purpose other than unity itself, and (4) a purpose that is not chosen just to create the need for unity. Does such a common goal even exist?

Throughout history, anti-Semitism has often served as a unifier of sorts. However, it is now often couched as anti-Zionism (making it a much less effective unifier), and (for better or worse) we have integrated into secular society well enough not be intimidated by the specter of being attacked or discriminated against. Without a widely-held acute sense of vulnerability, being hated or threatened by others cannot bring us together as a means of self-preservation.

Looking back at the first (and only?) instance of our nation being united, as we camped at Mt. Sinai to get the Torah, it would be easy to suggest that it should be the Torah that once again unites us. However, determining what messages the Torah is trying to teach us is (unfortunately) often a source of division rather than a means of unification. Additionally, and quite unfortunately, not everyone shares the same perspective on whether keeping the Torah is a goal worth striving for, making it nearly impossible for it to motivate everyone to become united. Although a candidate for our “common goal” cannot be discounted just because it might not bring about a wide enough unity to encompass everyone who shares the Jewish culture (or we would be searching for the sake of a pre-determined notion of “unity” as opposed to uniting in order to accomplish a pre-determined common goal), keeping the Torah (or at least the brand each of us thinks is worth keeping) is not a goal held widely enough to qualify as a goal of “the Jewish community at large.” Rather, each version of what it means to “keep the Torah” is the goal of each particular “community within the community.” Although it is important to promote unity within each of these communities, we are discussing the possibility of achieving unity on a larger scale.

Was the shared goal when we were one unit camped at Mt. Sinai that we would soon be getting the Torah, or was it that we would soon be cementing our relationship with the G-d Who took us out of Egypt? The ceremony that took place at Sinai was a covenant ceremony (see Sh’mos 24:7-8), designating us as G-d’s chosen people. Keeping the Torah is how we fulfill our end of deal, and how we strengthen our connection to G-d, but the shared goal that brought about our unity was connecting to G-d. (For this reason, we insisted on hearing G-d ourselves rather than having Moshe tell us what G-d said, see Rashi on Sh’mos 19:9.) I would therefore suggest that the common goal still shared by the Jewish community at large is creating/enhancing a community whereby the individuals within it can more effectively connect to G-d, and constantly improve that connection. However, even if that was what united us back then, can it unite us once again? Is it still a common goal? Is it shared by the community at large?

Expressions such as “connecting to G-d,” becoming more spiritual,” and others like it, are ambiguous enough to include (or, more precisely, not to exclude) the smaller “communities within the community” despite their very pronounced differences. (We will discuss how to work together despite these differences later.) Having a larger community that promotes the ability to get closer to G-d, whether it be by fighting anti-Semitism, promoting religious freedom, having increased political clout, providing the services needed by a Torah-based religious community (e.g. kosher food, mikveh, religious educational systems), et al, allows each member of the community to pursue spiritual growth in their own way, even if that “way” differs from others in the community. And since this goal is shared by communities all over the world, it allows individuals from other communities to continue to connect with G-d (and improve that connection) even when leaving the local community.

At first glance, this “common goal” of promoting an enhanced connection to G-d may seem to exclude the non-religious, or those who live within a religious community without really being interested in “connecting with G-d.” However, it would be impossible to call it a “Jewish community” without including G-d (and our relationship with Him) in the communal goal (at least not without opening the door to accusations of bigotry). Choosing to be part of a community means promoting (or at least working within) the goals of that community, even if they are not personal goals. It’s one thing to come to synagogue to spend time with your friends even if you have no interest in praying to G-d; it’s quite another to insist that they shorten the services because you want to make Kiddush sooner even though others want to connect with the Creator. For those not interested in the religious aspect of the shared goal, there are many ways to contribute to the community in a non-spiritual way that still helps the spiritual pursuits of the rest of the community. Whether it be in the kosher food-service industry, health services (it’s much easier to focus on spiritual growth when healthy), philanthropy, helping the needy (which is a way of “emulating G-d,” but need not be done for that reason) or a myriad of other things, even though the community-wide goal is creating an environment that fosters individual spiritual growth, an individual need not share that personal goal in order to be part of the community and help it achieve its goal.

We still have to deal with the fact that there are deep and profound differences between the “communities within the community,” thereby causing dissension and preventing unity. This is not the place to dissect each of these differences and suggest ways to deal with them. I will share one overall suggestion, though, which applies to just about all of them. One of our biggest problems (if not the biggest) is our inability to allow others to be wrong. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t argue vehemently for our position and insist that it is right, I am referring to walking away after presenting the case and letting the other person walk away too, despite each one being convinced that the other one is wrong (even very wrong).

There are several reasons why it is absolutely necessary to allow others to be wrong. First of all, no one, not one single human being, no matter how smart or how holy, is never wrong. We have to be able to accept that no matter how wrong-minded a position seems, an otherwise smart and rational person may take that position. (And there are times when we might be the ones taking that wrong position, but accepting that possibility will not usually be enough to allow the other person to have a different opinion; allowing the other person to be wrong is.) Secondly, we are all a work in progress, and being wrong today doesn’t mean staying wrong tomorrow. Allowing someone to move on despite being wrong gives them the opportunity to reconsider their position down the line, while maintaining the disagreement doesn’t allow them to move past the issue and possibly reconsider it in the future. The harder (and longer) we fight, the more entrenched we get in our position, making it harder to ever reconsider. Thirdly, often times whatever advantage the correct position provides is more than outweighed by the damage done fighting for that advantage, resulting in a net loss. In the long run, we would all be better off being right, but are still better off allowing others to be wrong than keeping the argument going.

The Chizkuni (Sh’mos 23:2) explains the Biblical commandment not to go against the majority to be referring to a situation where you’re convinced that you’re smarter than they are, and that they don’t understand the issue at hand as well as you do. Nevertheless, we are commanded not to keep arguing the case, but allow the majority to overrule you. Although this refers specifically to judges deciding a court case, if a smarter judge is told to let others be wrong even if means letting a wrong decision stand, it certainly applies to situations outside the courtroom.

The Nesivos (Nachalas Ya’akov, Parashas T’rumah) quotes the Talmud (see Midrash B’reishis 38:6), which says that peace is so valuable that if we all get along G-d will not punish us for any sin, even idol worship. He explains the reasoning behind this to be that when we are at peace with each other, and are therefore willing to share our thoughts with others as well as being willing to hear what others have to say, eventually the truth will win out, and we will stop sinning. By allowing others to be wrong, no matter how wrong we think they are, instead of focusing on the few things that we disagree about, we can consider the many things we actually agree upon, including our common goals. And because of those shared goals, we can attain real unity.