B’nai Chaim, 2011

 

In ancient times, strangers found themselves often feeling they were in a precarious situation: They were vulnerable. For this reason, this week’s parashah, Eikev, reminds us that God "upholds the cause of the fatherless and the widow, befriends the stranger, providing food and clothing - You too must befriend the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt" (Deuteronomy 10:18-19). Scholars often note that the Israelite code of ethics was founded on the belief that God identifies with the vulnerable. God asks us to put ourselves in the shoes of others. In this day and age, in fact, estrangement happens way too frequently. 

 

We are all in need of a helping hand and a warm embrace. Our Torah insists that we must show every consideration to the “stranger within our gates.” God holds there is no excuse for giving someone a cold shoulder. Strangers must be treated like the native Israelites, since, as the Book of Exodus reminds us, the Israelites themselves, were once strangers in the land of Egypt (Exodus: 22.21, 23.9). God loves the stranger (Deuteronomy: 10.18) and has commanded all people to love the stranger.  The Book of Leviticus teaches us “the stranger who dwells with you shall be unto you as one born among you” (19.33-34). 

 

In most cases, the fear of strangers is unfounded. We all have a desire to fit into a community in which our need for belonging can be met. Judaism is not threatened by strangers, it is threatened by the refusal to accept strangers and abide by the requirement to care for and treat them kindly and fairly. 

 

We Jews have a duty to befriend the stranger. The debate around welcoming strangers has remained with us to this day. Since year 6 of the Common Era, when the last part of the Jewish independent state was absorbed into the Roman Empire as a province, Jews strictly lived inside someone else's state. They were strangers. They no longer had sovereignty over themselves; they lived under someone else's thumb, and had to deal with it. The creation of the modern state of Israel in 1948 was our turning point. Hence our tradition has a great deal of empathy for the stranger in our midst, because we, ourselves, have spent many years treated as strangers in the societies we lived in. 

 

A stranger, someone new to our lives, can help us realize something special about our faith because they are interested in our traditions. We, for our part, have become dulled by our intimacy with Judaism. We are not awake to the possibilities of our faith, because we seek to be released from it.  A strange thing has happened in recent times - Jews have become complete strangers to one another. It often seems as if we can no longer coexist. Jews attack other Jews simply for being too Jewish or not Jewish enough. Today, there exists this grim comedy of mutual condescension between Jews. The stranger in fact, often has a more positive view of Judaism than Jews themselves…

 

So, rather than run away from Judaism, and become estranged from our own faith, we must immerse ourselves in this debate. Judaism is like playing an instrument. It takes practice to excel. To understand each other, we must see each other not as perfect strangers, but as fellow companions on this journey. We still have a great distance to go in fulfilling our promise in the Promised Land. We must also pledge to be fair to one another, and not to exclude someone who seems different, leaving them out in the cold. We need to learn to accept each other’s differences. After all, stranger things have happened.

 

Shabbat Shalom.

 

Rabbi Séverine Sokol