When I left you a few weeks ago, Moses was at the burning bush talking to God, about to begin what was arguably, his mission on Earth; that of freeing the Israelites from the 400 year bondage of slavery in Egypt. Well, now he has done that; you all saw the movie, you know the story, and now, as Parashat Mishpatim opens, we find the Israelites at the foot of Mt Sinai. Mishpatim, which means ‘laws’, is the Torah’s first delineation of civil law. That is, the laws that will govern daily life.
It also includes the commandment to observe the Sabbatical year, rules regarding the Sabbath and the first mention of the three pilgrimage festivals, Shavuot, Sukkot and Pesach, interesting because these observances are for things that haven’t happened yet!
We see here the injunction against boiling a kid in its mother’s milk and rules for sacrificial offerings. The people agree to the covenant and then, Moses, Aaron, Nadab and Abihu go up the mountain and see God; Moses continues on alone and spends 40 days on the mountain returning radiant with God’s energy.
In all these “you wills” and “you will nots”, is the Torah’s first mention of the law protecting the stranger. It certainly isn’t the only time we hear it: the laws for protection and regard of the stranger appear 36 times (according to Rabbi Eliezer) 46 according to Mishna. It appears twice right here.
First:
“You must not mistreat or oppress the stranger in any way. Remember, you yourselves were once strangers in the land of Egypt. Ex 22:21
Then:
וְגֵ֖ר לֹ֣א תִלְחָ֑ץ וְאַתֶּ֗ם יְדַעְתֶּם֙ אֶת־נֶ֣פֶשׁ הַגֵּ֔ר כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם
“You must not oppress strangers. You know the soul of the stranger, for you yourselves were once strangers in the land of Egypt.” Ex 23:9
In other iterations, Torah states “You shall have the same law for the stranger as for the native-born”. Equality is required; and not only just and fair treatment, we are commanded to love the stranger; imagine, legislating how we should feel! In Lev 19:33 it states; “Love the stranger as yourself, for you were strangers in Egypt. I am the Lord your God.” (we are not even told to love our parents!)
We are taught that nothing in Torah is superfluous or inconsequential so why is this, above all else, repeated so many times?
Because fear and hatred of those different than ourselves, those who are foreign to us is the oldest of human passions. Xenophobia is as old as humankind; it goes back to our ancient tribal ancestors, predating civilization as we think of it.
In the great ancient civilizations, the Greeks considered aliens barbarians, and the Romans were equally dismissive of outsiders. The Egyptians enslaved the Israelites and considered them sub-human. The Enlightenment was intended to advance human society beyond this irrational xenophobia and obviously, it failed.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes “The Torah is the world’s great protest against empires and imperialism. There are many dimensions to this protest. One dimension is the protest against the attempt to justify social hierarchy and the absolute power of rulers in the name of religion. Another is the subordination of the masses to the state – epitomized by the vast building projects, first of Babel, then of Egypt, and the enslavement they entailed. A third is the brutality of nations in the course of war (the subject of Amos’ oracles against the nations). Undoubtedly, though, the most serious offense – for the prophets as well as the Mosaic books – was the use of power against the powerless: the widow, the orphan and, above all, the stranger.”
We joke around a say a Jew never completely unpacks…but, throughout history, we as a people have been repeatedly enslaved, persecuted and driven from our homes. To be a Jew is to be stranger wherever we are; it is etched into our collective memory, existence, our very being. But we are all strangers to someone or some group of people somewhere other than here.
We find ourselves now in a chilling parallel to early Nazi Germany. It feels like a police state and we (at least I) can’t believe it is happening here, and I can’t allow myself to consider its conclusion if it continues. We’ve all seen this movie too; too many times in too many places. Treatment of “strangers” in our midst right now, immigrants, people of color, women, Jews, and even our own citizens is barbaric, inhumane and it is unfathomable that it is happening here. I feel so overwhelmed, helpless, useless, and I feel like crying all the time. I have a deep empathy for all these people, but as we learn in this parasha, that is not enough. I am reminded, I was a slave in Egypt, I was a stranger in a strange land and so it is MY responsibility to protect these people. But how??
When Meighan first asked me to speak to you, when she invited me to be on the Board, I asked my friend and Hebrew/Torah study partner what she thought. Should I do it? She answered with a question; “What would Harry say?” Rabbi Harry Sky of blessed memory, was a brilliant, wise man, a staunch activist for social justice, and a dear friend. In a split second, I had my answer; Harry would have told me that here I have been handed the opportunity for community building. I had the opportunity to invite people to see who I am as a Jew, be a representative of the Jewish community and in doing so, fight antisemitism, speak out against all hate and injustice, dispel fears and make the unknown, known. Antisemitism really is an issue; more than 60% of hate crimes in the US right now, are committed against Jews, who comprise fewer than 2% of the population. Plenty of people still think we have horns and eat children at Passover! Harry would have said, “Why are you even asking the question?” He taught that we should focus on the things that unite us across faiths and ethnicities, which are so many more than those superficial things that separate us. By speaking out against the indecencies with which we are faced, protesting and modeling compassionate behavior, we can empower others to do the same.
If people are fearful of “strangers”, the way to overcome this is to know the stranger. So here I am and this is what I can do.
Four years ago I started a program in Maine in memory of my father called Remembrance Through Art.
So much was expressed by Jews imprisoned in concentration camps, hiding, barely existing in ghettos, in the form of art, music, poetry, prose, anything imaginable. These things, this expression of hope, knowledge and creativity, our very souls, is something that can never be taken away my father told me. It’s something that should never be forgotten. Indeed, these things created in that time, in those places continue to touch us, teach us, and remind us of what was because, he said, it can happen again in the blink of an eye, and here we are; the terrible devastation of the Shoah in which 6 million Jews were murdered, and 6 million people of color, the disabled and LGBTQ people also murdered, that evil still exists among us and the hope that was never lost is present in the art in all its forms. Through this art we remember and teach our children. The program hosts artists who can make a unique impact through works that honor the resilience of people persecuted for faith, ethnicity, gender or sexuality. Its programs pay tribute to historic memory and confront challenges to human rights and dignity today; it seeks to educate young people and empower the next generation to address issues of human rights through art. This is what I can do.
This past week I was in Maine; despite near zero temperatures, more than 1000 people gathered to protest the actions of ICE, and of our government. This is what I can do.
What can you do?
כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם
Remember, you yourself, you all, were strangers in Egypt; do not hate the stranger the Torah admonishes because you yourself once stood where he does. Torah is not telling a story, it is personal. YOU yourself. He is human as are you, and if he is less than human, so are you too. They, the strangers, are different than you, not in your image, and yet God says, “All are created in My image”.
By now you’ve all heard me talk about Tikun olam; Meighan has spoken about it too; we’ve spoken about our obligation to repair the world and about the teaching of Rabbi Tarfon that while none are required to complete the task, neither are we free to desist from it. Now I want to add the other requirement, and that is צדק צדק תרדוף
Justice, justice shall you pursue. The word “justice” is repeated; it’s important.
How will you do this? No action is too small, or inconsequential. Note the prayer of protest in your bulletin; “…protest is a sacred act”. And we must take individual as well as collective responsibility.
And through all this hatred and fear in which we find ourselves mired, this darkness that is not one of blessed rest, rather one “which can be felt”, oppressive, as though it wants to suck the soul out of each of us, once again, I remember my dad.
Every day, he didn’t just say מודה אני לפמיך voicing his gratitude and thanking God for giving him another day, his heart and soul, his entire being prayed with gratitude. He looked at me and everything around him as though it was a miracle. Every single day. Take your bulletin home and say that prayer of gratitude we began with; gratitude for our commonality, our capacity to fight for justice, our ability to change and grow, for the sanctity of human life. Say it every day; you might come to believe it, to derive motivation and renewed energy through it’s words. It might be all that’s necessary for you to radiate God’s energy.
Maybe we are xenophobic to our very core; maybe it was, in some way, necessary for survival of early humans; it is like any other thing we have carried with us, it’s hard to get rid of. But like any other thing that does not serve us anymore, let’s get rid of it. Talk about it, teach, model loving, compassionate and empathetic behavior. Whether the “other” person is Jew or Gentile, Moslem or Hindu, Asian, African, Hispanic or white, straight or gay, or trans, or man or woman, or both, or soprano or alto, or whatever, when there is evil in your midst, when you witness injustice, remember what Hillel taught; In a place where there is no humanity, strive to be human; find the righteousness within yourself and speak up, act out, protest. Your protest can take many forms; speaking, writing, how you spend your money, voting, etc. Whatever it is, just do it. As Hillel said, “If not now, when?” Be here now! You have a finite number of moments in your life. Don’t waste this moment! Treat yourself and those around you right now as the image of the Divine they are.
Hillel continues; do not judge your fellow human being until you stand in his/her shoes. That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. So why should we not hate the stranger?
I’d like to leave you with this to consider from Rabbi Lawrence Kushner:
Each lifetime is the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
For some there are more pieces.
For others the puzzle is more difficult to assemble.
Some seem to be born with a nearly completed puzzle.
And so it goes.
Souls going this way and that
Trying to assemble the myriad parts.
But know this. You do not have within yourself
All the pieces to your puzzle.
Like before the days when they used to seal
jigsaw puzzles in cellophane. Insuring that
All the pieces were there.
Everyone carries with them at least one and probably
Many pieces to someone else's puzzle.
Sometimes they know it.
Sometimes they don't.
And when you present your piece
Which is worthless to you,
To another, whether you know it or not,
Whether they know it or not,
You are a messenger from the Most High.
Who has that last piece of your puzzle? But really, why should we not hate the stranger?
Because the stranger is you and the stranger is me.
Amen.