בך בחר ה' אלקיך להיות לו לעם סגלה מכל העמים אשר על פני האדמה — “Hashem your G-d has chosen you to be His treasured people above all the nations.” (Devorim 7:6)
The Gemara (Meilah 17a) records that the Roman authorities once issued three decrees against Klal Yisrael: to desecrate Shabbos, to abolish bris mila, and to permit marital relations with a niddah. Rabbi Reuven disguised himself as a gentile, infiltrated their council, and dismantled all three decrees through a sequence of pointed questions. He asked: if a man wishes to impoverish his enemy, should he make him poor or wealthy? They answered: poor. “Then prevent the Jews from working on Shabbos — they will become poor.” The Romans accepted the logic and rescinded the decree. He then asked: should an enemy be weakened or strengthened? “Weakened.” “Then have their sons circumcised at eight days — they will be weakened.” Again they rescinded. Finally: should an enemy’s numbers increase or decrease? “Decrease.” “Then prohibit them from relations during niddah.” Once more they rescinded. But when they realized Rabbi Reuven was Jewish, all three decrees were reinstated.
The obvious question is: If they had accepted his reasoning, why should his being Jewish change anything? Logic does not depend on who delivers it.
R’ Yosef Sorotskin (Meged Yosef) says that we see from here a fundamental idea: A Jew’s nature — not merely his neshomah, but his very body — is categorically different from that of a non-Jew. A non-Jew who observes Shabbos becomes poorer; a Jew who keeps Shabbos becomes wealthier. A non-Jew who circumcises his son weakens him; a Jewish boy is strengthened by bris mila. A non-Jew who separates from his wife during niddah ends up with fewer children; a Jew who observes taharas hamishpacha has more. While the Romans believed they were hearing from a fellow gentile, they applied their own nature to the equation — and correctly concluded that these practices would diminish and weaken a gentile nation. However, the moment they recognized Rabbi Reuven as Jewish, they began thinking differently: for Bnei Yisrael, the same mitzvos strengthen rather than weaken, multiply rather than diminish. So, they reinstated the decrees.
R’ Yosef Sorotskin then brings a story which he heard from his grandmother, the Rebbetzin of Lutzk zt”l, which highlights this idea. She had a devoted Polish maidservant who watched over her children with extraordinary care — always ensuring that they were never placed on the cold floor. One day, the maidservant arrived with her own infant and placed him directly on the bare floor. The Rebbetzin asked in surprise: how could she endanger her own child’s health when she was always so vigilant about protecting the Rebbetzin’s children?
The maidservant answered without hesitation, in Yiddish: ער איז א חם, קיין זאך ועט עם נישט שאטען — “He is a child of Chom; nothing will harm him.”
We see from this story how the laws of nature do not operate uniformly across all nations, like what we learnt from the Gemara in Meilah.
