“If you want a picture of the future; imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever.” (George Orwell, 1984, chapter 3)
Our rabbis worried about the effects of hatred. They attributed the destruction of the Second Temple to the internal battles of the Jewish community. Our ancestors may have been punctilious in their ritual observance. They may have cared deeply about their religious convictions, but their lack of tolerance for one another was so deep and so vile that it developed into a hatred which undermined entirely the fabric of society. (Yoma 9a).
Ironically, idealists are particularly susceptible to hatred. Judaism expects us to fulfill God’s will and mend the world, so it is natural that we are fervent about our ideas. When we see our principles attacked, it disturbs us. So, although we are commanded “You shall not hate your brother in your heart”, the Torah understands that there are exceptional circumstances where hatred may be an appropriate response. For example, the Talmud speaks of the seething rage of a man who has reason to suspect his wife of cheating on him. It therefore orders him to seek judicial process to clear up the matter (Sotah 3b).
When the law is powerless to protect us then it is especially difficult for the wronged to rein in their feelings. The Talmud illustrates this with the case of someone who was the sole witnesses to a crime. Since Jewish law requires two witnesses for a successful prosecution, the witness was tormented by the knowledge that the criminal went unpunished. The Talmudic sage Rabbi Nachman bar Yitzhak said it would be wrong and inhuman to be indifferent to this situation. We should care about justice, so it is right to feel frustration, anger and hatred towards those who commit terrible crimes, but somehow escape punishment.
If in all these circumstances it is permitted and legitimate to hate, then why don’t we encourage Jewish people to hate those who flout Jewish law? Tosafot, the Medieval French commentator on the Gemara offered a beautiful and perceptive answer. Anger may start off as a reasonable response to injustice, but it won’t remain that way. Our animosity will grow, our principles will become less relevant and the feud will become increasingly personal. Eventually, we will forget the cause of the dispute and simply feed off our own hatred. The religiously sanctioned dispute will be replaced by common enmity possibly prompting us to do uncontrolled and unimaginable evil (Pesachim 113b)..
A degree of righteous indignation is legitimate and occasionally positive, but it is we must cap our emotions so that they do not spiral out of control. Many of the Biblical commentators note that the prohibition; “Do not hate your brother in your heart” is followed by the command to rebuke him when he does wrong (Vayikra XIX: 17, 18). The Ramban, commenting on this verse, explains that when someone does something that upsets us, we must discuss it with them. Chances are they will either concede and apologise for their behaviour or explain why it was actually appropriate for them to do what they did what they did. We may not agree with their justification, but by hearing their explanation, we will almost certainly have greater understanding of their position and feel less antipathy towards them. All of us get angry and upset, but we may not nurse grievances that can escalate into destructive hatred.
Perhaps that explains the advice that Bruria gave to her husband, the Talmudic sage Rabbi Meir, when he was plagued by local gangsters. The rabbi prayed daily for their destruction. She explained that he should pray for an end to sin rather than the end of sinners.
“The ways of the Torah are pleasant and all its paths are peace” (Mishley III: 17). We should hold firm to Jewish tradition and the rights and responsibilities it imposes upon us. We may disagree vehemently with those who don’t share our beliefs, but we must also ensure that we act with decency and respect for those who have different opinions or lifestyles.