Privilege, Responsibility, or Calling? Unpacking Our Chosenness
Yosi Amram interprets 'God's Chosen People' as a call to humility and shared responsibility across faiths.
Editor’s Note: There has long been confusion—and distortion—over what it means to be the “Chosen People,” with antisemites twisting the idea into a claim of arrogance or superiority. In this essay, Yosi Amram goes back to the original source material to explore what chosenness truly means—and doesn’t mean—as he examines the deep moral and spiritual burden this idea places on the Jewish people. — Howard Lovy
Introduction
His [the Jew’s] contributions to the world’s list of great names in literature, science, art, music, finance, medicine…are also away out of proportion to the weakness of his numbers. He has made a marvelous fight in this world, in all ages; and has done it with his hands tied behind him….The Egyptian, the Babylonian and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendor, then faded to dream-stuff and passed away; the Greek and Roman followed, and made a vast noise, and they are gone....The Jew saw them all,…[and] he remains." — Mark Twain
When Jews read this passage, we might find ourselves filled with pride. Jews have been persecuted for millennia, and yet somehow, we’ve always survived—even contributing disproportionately to the world despite it all. A “marvelous fight” indeed.
It is this kind of thinking that so many cite as evidence for what the Hebrew Bible tells us: that we are God’s Chosen People. Growing up in a Jewish household, I always found comfort and inspiration in this narrative. To be Jewish felt special. Chosen.
Yet, as I grew up, studied psychology, and revisited those texts I was raised on, I started to feel a growing unease at this once-enticing idea. Being “Chosen” began to sound elitist to me, contradicting the universal equality I now see as essential to human dignity.
Of course, Jews aren’t the only group to claim Chosenness. For example, the Inuit, the Eora, and the Ngäbe all referred to themselves as the “ancestral” or “original” people” and the Chinese texts stated that they were the center of the world. Religions and spiritual traditions to my knowledge all claim some form of specialness. For example, Jesus says, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me" (John 14:6). Similarly, Islam holds that God completed the true religion with Islam (Quran 5:3), and that “the religion in the sight of Allah is Islam” (Quran 3:19).
However, this notion seems to have been more problematic for the Jews than any other tribes. Why is that? Why is there so much strife among the Abrahamic faiths, who all share a common ancestor? What is it about humans that pushes us to feud? Might the original texts that bind us all together be hiding some sort of guidance?
This essay explores the evolution of Jewish Chosenness through Biblical, rabbinic, interfaith, and sociological/psychological lenses. It positions Chosenness as a call to universal responsibility rather than superiority—a perspective that is deeply rooted in Jewish tradition.
The Jewish Interpretation of Chosenness
First, to lay out some commonly cited Biblical evidence for Jewish Chosenness, in Exodus (4:22), God instructed Moses to tell the Pharaoh, "Thus says the LORD, Israel is my firstborn son." And later, in Deuteronomy (7:6), it reads "For you are a people holy to the Lord your God. The Lord your God has chosen you to be a people for his treasured possession, out of all the peoples who are on the face of the earth." This covenantal relationship is eternal, as in Genesis (17:19), God says to Abraham, "Sarah thy wife shall bear thee a son…I will establish My covenant with him for an everlasting covenant for his seed after him.” This is further reinforced in Psalm (105:8), "And He established it unto Jacob for a statute, to Israel for an everlasting covenant."
The traditional rabbinic understanding of this eternal covenant is to assert that being Chosen is by no means a privilege, since the people of Israel are tasked with being a “light for the nations,” as stated in Isaiah 42:6. The 613 commandments weren’t given because Jews were “better,” but as part of our task to spread ethical monotheism—a mission that has brought much suffering over the millennia.
In light of this dark history, we Jews have been naturally inclined to claim Chosenness as a source of comfort as well. Mark Twain was just one of many to remark on our feats. All too often, Jewish leaders will proudly reference how, while Jews make up less than 0.2% of humanity, we have won over 20% of Nobel Prizes.
Jewish success in the face of our hardship is what we can cite to find some sense of purpose amid all the pain and destruction (and to discourage assimilation). While understandable psychologically, such tribal pride then unfortunately risks inciting more even anger, jealousy, and hatred.
However, the true essence of Judaism, as I understand it, aims to transcend this cycle, offering a vision of universal values that uplift all of humanity—a world of justice, peace, prosperity, and dignity for all human beings who are equally created in the image and likeness of God.
One Father, Many Feuds: The Roots of Rivalry
Interestingly enough, the claim that Jews were in fact God's Chosen People is acknowledged by Christianity and Islam, even if they each hold that their own religion then supplemented Judaism. This nod might feel validating, but it doesn’t alleviate my unease, nor answer the question of whether being Chosen might mean something more than simple religious hierarchy. Even with all the strings attached, the Jewish claim to God’s Chosenness can still be accused of at the very least condescension—as if the Jews have been the only tribe to contribute ethics to the world.
However, this certainly sheds some light on the hatred of Jews throughout the millennia. It would follow that a successful minority claiming to be God's Chosen People and asserting some mission to spread morality would be sure to raise jealousy. And, stepping back even further, Jews are just one of the three Abrahamic faiths with a long history of feuding and strife. Abraham’s lineage includes Yitzhak’s sons, Jacob (ancestor of the Israelites) and Esau (believed to be the progenitor of the Edomites, associated with Rome and Christianity). From Jews to Muslims to Christians, more than half of humanity are spiritual descendants of Abraham.
With such overlap, one must wonder why there has been so much rivalry, hatred, and war among them. To quote the prophet Malachi (2:10), "Have we not all one Father? Has not one God created us? Why then are we faithless to one another, profaning the covenant of our fathers?” And, as my own son, at only nine years old, observed, “So many religions all agree there is one God, so why do they all still fight with each other?"
It is in times like these that, despite the discomfort any of us might feel with such a topic, it is so important to heed the call and write, digging into those age-old texts to see if there’s any wisdom there that might have escaped our notice.
Sibling Rivalry: The Oldest Rivalry
In trying to make sense of this turbulent past, let us turn to the first biblical story of violence and sin. As I have argued, the Original Sin was not, in fact, Eve’s eating from the Tree of Knowledge, but rather the slaying of Abel by Cain—the first time the word "chet" (sin) appears in the text. As many know, Cain kills his brother because God looks more favorably on Abel’s offerings—the first ever murder in the Bible results from rivalry over God’s favor, a warning to us all.
This is only the beginning for the theme of sibling rivalry in The Bible. The pattern Cain and Abel set is continued through Yitzhak and Ishmael, then by Esau and Jacob, Joseph and his brothers, and even Yitzhak’s wives, Leah and Rachael. Surveying these stories, it might feel easy to declare humanity hopeless. If we can’t stop siblings within a family from sparring, how could we ever attempt at peace between faiths? But, as you’ll see, the text offers wisdom not only on the formation of this cycle, but also how to break it.
Perhaps the most dramatic of these tales is the story of Joseph, Jacob’s favored son. After Joseph’s brothers betray him and sell him into slavery, he is able to rise to Pharaoh’s second-in-command. Then, when Joseph’s brothers come to him as supplicants for food years later, they fear his vengeance. Instead, he forgives them. He says, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today" (Genesis 50:20). In contrast to the self-centered young Joseph, this Joseph bears no such hubris—he reframes his own suffering as part of a divine plan.
Later in the text, in Numbers (16:3-5) when the prophet Moses is confronted by Korach, a power-hungry demagogue, Moses exhibits no defensiveness. Instead of boasting of his special status as God’s chosen messenger, Moses, the "Servant of God" (Exodus 14:31), exudes complete humility, falling on his face to examine his own heart, to see if any part of him was indeed holding onto some egoic pride.
Moses is capable of both remarkable modesty and remarkable boldness, as on the one hand, he is "more humble than anyone else on the face of the earth" (Numbers 12:3). But, on the other, he is the one to muster the courage to confront the Pharaoh, the ruler of the largest empire in the ancient world, as well as the audacity to challenge even God, "Forgive their sin—and if not, blot me...out of thy book" (Exodus 32:32). This balance in him is part of what makes him our greatest prophet and teacher.
Pride Beith Thy Downfall: Lessons in Humility
Indeed, the Bible and the Jewish sages have long warned us against prideful displays of our blessings. Jacob tells his sons (Genesis 42:1), "Why do you make yourselves so conspicuous?" The Talmud (Babylonian Talmud, Taanis 10b) interprets this verse as follows, "Jacob said to his sons, 'Do not show yourselves to be sated either before Esau or Ishmael in order that you do not arouse their envy against you.'"
Furthermore, according to the prophet Jeremiah, God says, “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches” (Jeremiah 9:23). In fact, to counteract the rise of Jewish narcissism, the prophet Amos (9:7) explicitly recites, “’Are you not like the Cushites to me, O people of Israel?’ declares the Lord. ‘Did I not bring up Israel from the land of Egypt, and the Philistines from Caphtor and the Syrians from Kir?’” Here, God is urging the people of Israel to have perspective, as we are just one of many nations placed by God here on Earth.
In his commentary on Exodus 22:20, which says, "And you shall not mistreat a stranger, nor shall you oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt," Rabbi Chayim ibn Attar (Ohr HaChayim) speculated that this command was explicitly given to counteract the risk that the Israelites might look down upon any outsiders. Additionally, the Torah emphasizes the command to love the stranger in many places, as it says in Leviticus (19:33-34), "You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself."
As I have written about previously, the command to love “the stranger” occurs frequently in the Torah, while the instruction to love thy neighbor only appears a handful of times. Though the "strangers" may seem strange, they are still made by God. All of us on Earth are made in the image and likeness of God, part of divine creation, yet each a unique, beautiful form and expression of it through its biodiversity. How, with all this insistence to love the stranger, could we possibly interpret our Chosenness to mean putting ourselves over one another?
Beyond Exclusivity: A Covenant for All Humanity
Going back to God’s initial covenant with Abraham, God promises that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars in the sky. Clearly, this promise is far from being fulfilled: Jews are a tiny nation at best (and some even debate if we are still “a nation”).
This promise only makes sense when we consider that, in addition to his son Yitzhak, Abraham has another son, Ishmael, from whom we are told the entire Muslim world descends, as we discussed. God also promises Abraham, “As for Ishmael…I will make him into a great nation" (Genesis 17:20).
Starting with Abraham, Jews clearly are not the only nation worthy of God’s favor. Perhaps God’s covenant is more inclusive than we previously thought, a divine plan in which Abraham's lineage blesses all nations, not just his direct descendants through Yitzhak and Jacob.
By highlighting both Isaac and Ishmael's roles in the covenant, the Bible underscores a shared spiritual heritage among Jews, Muslims, and even beyond, pointing to a universal purpose. Furthermore, following the binding of Issac, God reiterates his promise to Abraham in Genesis 22:18, "And through your offspring all the nations on earth will be blessed." It’s repeated again and again—“all nations,” not just Jews nor even only Abraham's descendants.
Other traditions acknowledge this inclusive vision of Abraham's covenant—even by the Catholic Church’s Vatican II, which issued a declaration that recognized the spiritual bond between Christians and Abraham’s lineage.[vii] We all share a spiritual ancestor, and we should act like it.
Chosen, Called, All
I still often ponder the question of Jewish Chosenness, attempting to reconcile the miracle of our success with these universalist messages from The Bible. But, fortunately, I found a philosophy that has helped me gain new perspective on the matter.
Firstly, according to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 59a), one can attain spiritual fulfillment and divine reward without converting, only needing to follow the Seven Noahide laws. In fact, the Talmud says (Tosefta, Sanhedrin 13), "The Righteous of all nations have a share in the world to come." In keeping with this theme, the Jewish tradition maintains that God made seventy root nations, and that each one was given its own spiritual mission. To follow the Torah’s traditions, Jews are instructed to sacrifice seventy bulls each year (Numbers 29:12-34) as part of our responsibility to the rest of the world.
Spiritually, this aligns with my sense of Judaism, which focuses less on individual liberation and more on justice, righteousness for humanity, and protection of the marginalized. I believe Jews were put on Earth for a specific purpose, but so were the other seventy root nations of our world. We are like the cells in an organ, each with our own unique role and contribution—created for different purposes but all equally vital in the greater web of life.
Whatever your calling may be, by following it, you are Chosen. And true Chosenness lies in fulfilling one’s mission with humility and dedication to the greater good.
I was intrigued to discover a similar view implied by the Bodhisattva vow of Mahayana Buddhism, where one is to forgo one's own enlightenment for the sake of all sentient beings. Across faiths, there is more than enough evidence to support a more inclusive interpretation of Chosenness. The text urges us again and again to heed the warnings of the story of Cain and Abel and hold ourselves to Moses’ and Joseph’s standard, practicing humility, inclusiveness, and respect.
Chosenness As a Call for Ushering in Universal Love and Dignity
We Jews, as God's servants who were prophesied to be "despised and forsaken by men” (Isaiah 53:3) shall eventually "prosper … be exalted and lifted up " (Isaiah 52:13). We should feel confident in our mission of ushering in messianic times—a world of peace and dignity for all. As the more contemporary Martin Luther King Jr. said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”
With this in mind, let us Jews not boast of our special status as The Chosen People. Rather, let us abide in the trust we have for the divine plan unfolding before us. Our suffering was foretold by the prophets, but so was our redemption. This is not to say we shouldn’t call out antisemitism, but, for now, since it seems it is our “cross to bear,” we can carry it in dignity, grounded by our faith in God and our redemption. After all, even following all the strife of the ten plagues, we can note in Exodus (11:3) that “the LORD gave the people [Israelites] favour in the sight of the Egyptians. Moreover, the man Moses was very great in the land of Egypt, in the sight of Pharaoh's servants, and in the sight of the people.” Despite centuries of conflict, God's power, along with Moses' righteousness, had the power to unify, not just within the Jewish community, but across the warring nations of the Egyptians and Israelites.
Similarly, the prophet Zechariah (8:23) promises us that someday all other nations will come to the Jews, saying, "We will go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.” I can think of no better North Star than this vision of unity across faiths: Christians, Muslims, Jews, atheists—all children of God. Since we are all created in the image of our Creator who loves us unconditionally, we must reflect that love in our own lives.
Let us then expand our hearts’ capacity to love, embracing both our neighbor and the stranger. In doing so, we choose our Chosenness, answering our calling to serve as God's emissaries and working towards an era of peace, prosperity, and dignity for all.
Yosi Amram, Ph.D., is a licensed clinical psychologist, CEO leadership coach, and best-selling, award-winning author of Spiritually Intelligent Leadership: How to Inspire by Being Inspired, which won a Nautilus Book Award Gold Medal. With engineering degrees from MIT, an MBA from Harvard, and a Ph.D. in Psychology from Sofia University, Yosi is a leading researcher in spiritual intelligence, with over 1,000 citations. A former founder and CEO who led two tech companies to successful IPOs, he has coached more than 100 CEOs of billion-dollar enterprises and also helps couples build conscious, healing relationships. He founded several nonprofits, including trueMASCULINITY.org, Engendering-Love.org, and AwakeningSI.org. Learn more at www.yosiamram.net or subscribe to his YouTube channel at @AwakeningSpirituaIntelligence.
Five tiny delights
1. Cooking while dancing in my kitchen
2. Speaking with and spending time with my two children—the stars of my life
3. Walking on the beach and watching the pelicans surf the waves and dive in to feed
4. Seeing all the faces at my monthly Awakening Spiritual Intelligence gatherings
5. Witnessing the healing, growth, and transformation from working with my clients
Five tiny Jewish delights
1. Drinking four cups of wine during a seder
2. Putting on Tefillin every day
3. Reciting the Shema upon waking up and going to sleep
4. Apples and honey on Rosh Hashanah
5. An enthusiastic hora at family Bar/Bat-Mitzvah or a friend's wedding
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