THING AND PERSON
At the Annual Service of Jewish ex-Service Men, January, 1943
THE story of David and Jonathan offers us one of the most noble examples of comradeship in world literature. Many circumstances in the lives of these two men seemed to conspire to keep them apart. There was first the difference of social status—Jonathan, a prince, loved by the King and the people; David, only the youngest son of a humble family in Israel, the keeper of his father’s sheep. Then later there were the opposing ambitions of the two men, which normally should have made them enemies for life. Jonathan was the crown prince, entitled to the succession to the throne; and David an unknown adventurer, emerging from the common herd and grasping at kingship in Israel. And lastly, there was the bitter hatred of Saul, his warnings to his son against David, the menace to the dynasty.
Yet all this could not separate the two men. The spirit of comradeship in which they were united triumphed over differences of social status and personal ambitions, as well as over dynastic interest and raison d’état.
I use the word “comradeship” intentionally. David and Jonathan were united in comradeship and not only in friendship. It is important to remember that David and Jonathan met on the battle-field. At the critical moment in the history of Israel, when Goliath challenged the armed might of Saul, in the battle with the Philistines the prince and the shepherd became friends for life. Comradeship, born in the hour of danger and uniting men in despite of all divisions and boundaries that would ordinarily separate them, is one of the redeeming and encouraging by-products of that evil thing war. This fine spirit which has the moral power to overcome differences of social status, of religion and race, is a surprising phenomenon in our world, which is torn with hatred and prejudice and in which people and nations find it so very difficult to understand each other.
The comradeship of the trenches and the battle-field requires an explanation. **Mishnah Abot V, 16.Jewish tradition offers us one. The comradeship of David and Jonathan was lasting because it was “Love that did not depend on Thing”. And the same dictum continues: “Whenever Love depends on Thing, with the passing of that Thing Love too passes away; but when Love is not dependent on Thing, it will not pass away for ever.”
What is this “Thing” on which so much stress is laid in this saying of our Masters, upon which so often Love does depend and upon which Love should not be dependent?
The Thing is social status, business and profession, money and material success. The Thing is not the person, it is not the man. And this is not self-evident. Unfortunately, there is great need for stressing this point, for the Thing is very often mistakenly thought of as the person. In times of peace a man is judged not so much by what he is as by what he has. The Thing, be it money or social influence, position or possession—the Thing, which one holds in his grasp, determines the status of a man on earth. In our civilisation too much depends on the Thing, too little on the person. A man is clever if he has success; he is respected if he holds office; he is trusted if he possesses securities. We have too much faith in the Thing, too little in character and personality.
It is the Thing that determines human relationships too. People associate in families, societies, and organisations—so we believe. In reality, however, it is one social status that associates with another of the same level, one group of interests with another, one bank account with another bank account of a similar weight and importance; in short—one Thing with another, but not one man with his fellow men. We have built up the power of the Thing. We believed that the more of it we held in our grip the more powerful we would be. And now the Thing dominates us. It counts more than man himself. Friendship, love, honour, and influence are to-day all dependent on the Thing, on what a man has and not on what he is. The Thing has enslaved man.
The Thing stands between man and man, it separates nation from nation. Thanks to ingenious inventions distances are continually shrinking in our days; the distance between one man and another does not diminish. It happens very seldom that man meets man, that one heart turns to another, that one mind reveals itself to another, that person associates with person. The Thing stands between us and renders understanding between human beings almost impossible. Our associations of friendship and love are seldom lasting; they depend too much on the respect in which we hold the Thing and too little on the appreciation of the human personality.
Comradeship, however, is different. It emerges in circumstances in which nothing else counts but the man, and in which everything depends on character and courage, reliability and faithfulness. Out there in the trenches a man is judged by what he is and not by what he has. There the power of the Thing, the false magic of material possession and material success is broken. There, especially in the hour of danger, man meets man. Out of this meeting a lasting understanding arises that may well be called: Love independent of the Thing. In comradeship the dignity of man triumphs over the enslaving power of the Thing.
But comradeship should not be limited to service-men only. It is a message of the front line to the world. It is a programme for mankind. To-day I feel that the world is better prepared to accept the message and the programme than at any other moment in the history of man. After the last war, service-men on returning home were often disappointed. In the trenches they had learned that the standards of society are often false and meaningless. They came back with a vague conception of new values, with a deeper insight into what should really count in the world, but the world at large had little understanding for the new ideas which were born in the hours of danger at the border line between life and death. Thus comradeship had to be confined to such comparatively small organisations as the Legion. There was comradeship between ex-servicemen, there was none, or only very little of it, in the world at large. To-day, the situation is different. It is one of the things giving hope for the future that comradeship is no longer limited to ex-servicemen. This total war has pushed the front-line as far back as the bomber can reach. Wherever a bomb can drop there is the front. Men, women, and children have learned to share the dangers of the battle-field and in the hour of trial they have re-established the moral dignity of man in a great new comradeship, the comradeship of the Blitz. The comradeship of the people of London in the long, dark months of the Blitz and the same noble spirit of mutual aid in which the other communities have met the trial of fire and blast in this country are among the most encouraging portents of a better day to come for all men. The comradeship of the Blitz has restored our faith in man. It has proved that man can be good, reliable, and faithful, that he can be a comrade.
Servicemen returning from this war will find a community that understands them, that understands the message of comradeship because having experienced the dangers of a total war it will have experienced the need for comradeship in its own body. Comradeship must become a programme for all mankind; it must become the great creative and progressive force on earth. Comradeship is a necessity of peace just as it is a necessity of war. Without it wars are lost; without it the peace will be lost too. Without it we are bound to fail. With it we shall overcome all the obstacles that stand in the way of world-wide understanding and harmony.
Comradeship alone can turn the brotherhood of worldwide suffering of our days into the great creative brotherhood of all men and all nations, working hard but not without success for a new dawn on earth.