I have been hearing and reading much, this high holiday season, about the dual natures of the day and even the (seemingly) dual nature of our relationship with Hashem. he is both father and king and the two separate roles contextualize aspects of our prayer. More about that maybe later. But first, a note about dual natures.
We, as a people, are driven by our need to reconcile a variety of approaches and ideas. Our pilgrimage holidays are both remembereances of the Exodus and agricultural celebrations. Channukah has both the mirculous oil and the miraculous victories in war. Our sabbath is marked by the obligation both the guard and remember. Even in that relationship to God we start with a concept of "the attribute of justice" and the "attribute of mercy" and then we move to "father" and "mother" (or the aforesaid father and king).
But we, too, are defined by a split nature. We pray for peace. Our daily and holiday texts are filled with wishes for a peaceful present and a messianically peaceful future. We avoid conflict and sing songs about not having to be at war. And the world knows us as its door mat because our history is full of people oppressing us. Only rarely do we fight back, do we assert our natural right to existence. And when we do, we expect to lose so our cultural stories are of surprising victories and unlikely heroes.
However in our historical texts, we are taught to pray for peace but prepare for war. The world needs to stop seeing us as the default patsy and eternal victim, and it doesn't want to. We are so expected to let people stomp on us that when we respond, our actions are addressed as a unique behavior -- we are judged by a separate standard imposed upon as "peaceful people."
Why do they hate us?
Historically, the answers included "because we are different" and "because we did something which was an affront to their religious ideals" and we can add to it "because we are supposed to roll over and yet we fought back."