The World Cup is upon us, and around the globe millions are transfixed. Whole countries in Europe, Africa and Latin America are shutting down for hours at a time to view the matches. And the outcome is no trivial matter, either. Victory is seen as a form of national redemption; defeat triggers collective depression and violent rampage.

Where, one may ask, are the Jews in all this? What is the Jewish perspective?

As The People of the Book, sports was never high on our list of priorities. The Jewish addiction to over-achievement has embraced just about every field except track-and-field. Even during the three days of waiting to receive the Torah at Mount Sinai, you couldn’t get a decent volleyball match going. When the Olympics and the idea of organized sports first made its appearance, Jews do not seem to have had much of a part in it. Perhaps it was the ancient Greeks’ and Romans’ charming way of mixing athletics, idolatry and vicious persecution, that put a permanent crimp in our potential sports-mindedness. (Indeed, the very word gymnasium, derived from the Greek word for naked—the standard uniform in those days—harkens back to a culture that was anathema to Judaism, with its great emphasis on modesty.)

There have, however, been some interesting exceptions. The Talmud mentions that In the time of King David, royal runners had operations on their feet, and actually had their spleens removed to increase speed and endurance. A temporary upsurge of interest in cross-country running and boat racing was noted during the Spanish Expulsion. And in the assimilationist run-up to Hitler’s Germany, Jews learned to out-duel the Junkers themselves, winning thirteen gold and three silver medals in foil and saber for the Fatherland in the first two decades of the revived Olympics. Their show of patriotism in athletics and war—German Jewish soldiers were awarded over 31,500 Iron Crosses for their bravery in World War I—did not, however, seem to be taken much into account by the Gestapo just a few years later.

In the open societies of the West, Jews have indeed made their contribution to the wide world of sports. But for me, the greatest contribution has been made by Jews who did not play. The charter members of my Jewish Hall of Fame would begin with those athletes who declined to perform on the Jewish holy days. I don’t know much about Sandy Koufax’s level of religious observance otherwise, but I am sure that he earned a place for himself in Olam HaBa (the next world) as big as Chavez Ravine when he announced that he would not take the mound on Yom Kippur during the 1965 World Series. One cannot underestimate the importance of such a thing. When a sports hero takes a principled stand like that, it influences a whole generation of young people.

But all this is not to say that health and physical fitness are strictly non-Jewish concerns. We may not share the enthusiasm of the nations of the world for competitive sports, and running around in public in our underwear may not be our cup of tea, but there is a specific commandment in the Torah to guard one’s health. A person who is physically weak will fall short in his performance of the mitzvot incumbent upon him as a Jew. It takes stamina to daven (pray) with concentration all day long while fasting on Yom Kippur, or to dance half the night at your best friend’s wedding. Just getting up early every morning for morning prayers before going to work or school is a life-long test of endurance as well as faith. And anabolic steroids to build up those shuckling muscles are not allowed.

So while the rest of the world is engrossed in the World Cup, I think I’ll turn off my computer, open up a page of Talmud, and go back to working on developing my Yiddishe kup.**

** Jewish mind.

Sources: Sandhedrin 21b; Paul Johnson, A History of the Jews, P. 407; Jonathan Rosenblum, Reb Yaakov.

By Rabbi Yisrael Rutman

First published June 14, 2002

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