Winter can be a tough time for the homeless. Winter can be a tough time for the impoverished and the lonely. When I lived in New York, I became acutely aware of this “seasonal hardship” and numerous food kitchens and shelters established by local synagogues and churches to help people normally considered to be “strangers” by that membership of that particular church or synagogue. While the issues of homelessness may not appear as pronounced as New York’s for most of the year, Toronto’s harsher and longer winter makes the problem particularly acute. Our synagogue (shul) participates in what is known as “Out of the Cold”. On Monday evenings, for eight weeks, our shul community provides a hot meal and a warm space for those in need. On Monday evenings, for eight weeks, I pick up our 17-year-old daughter (who has been volunteering in this program for the past six years) and her 13-year-old brother (first year of volunteering). Like his sister, he has also experienced a powerful transformation. At first, the people who came to partake of the warm food, shelter, and clothing were “stranger”. They were nothing like him, they did not look like him, nor were they raised like him. Our 13-year-old son had nothing in common with these “strangers”. Indeed, they were strangers. On that first Monday evening, there was trepidation. Five Monday evenings later I watch our son serve warm meals to strangers in need and help these strangers obtain weather appropriate clothing from the bins that are in our shul basement. However, he does something else. He greets these strangers, he talks to these strangers, he listens to these strangers and he now there is no more trepidation. Now, he no longer considers them strangers. They are just people with the same basic need that he has, to be fed, clothed, have a shelter and to be treated with dignity and grace.
This week we read from Parsha Mishpatim. Moshe is still at Mt. Sinai. However, the revelation that occurred with the giving of the Aseret Dibrot (Ten Commandments) is long gone. Instead, God has now started giving Moshe numerous laws that affect the day to day issues raised by human interaction. There is no shofar blowing, there is no anticipation of meeting God at the mountain. Rather there is only God telling Moshe how to decide various legal matters including the damages to be paid if my ox gores your ox; two men are fighting near a pregnant woman and she gets hurt, and how to treat to a Jewish servant, observing festivals, the issues of liability for those who are asked to safeguard another’s property as well as manslaughter, to name just a few of the fifty-three commandments (according to the Sefer HaChinuch). Moshe tells these laws to B’nai Yisroel and they respond with the words Naaseh v’Nishmah – we will do and learn. The Parsha concludes with glowing fire upon the Mountain that Moshe ascends once again.
Following the awe-inspiring revelation at Sinai in Parsha Yitro, it might seem like a spiritual let down as we read of one law after another and the mundane rules that are established to govern human interaction. However, buried beneath these rules and regulations God reminds Moshe of the foundations upon which these executive orders are based. V’Ger Lo Toneh V’Lo TilChatzenu Ki Geirim Heyitem B’Eretz Mitzrayim – You shall not taunt or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. The Talmudic Sages in Baba Metzia 59b reminds us that the Torah cautions us regarding our treatment of the stranger no less than thirty-six times. No other “executive order”, no other commandment, loving God, Shabbat, circumcision, forbidden foods, uttering a falsehood occurs as frequently loving the stranger or refrain from oppressing the stranger. The Talmudic sages understand this commandment in terms of the “stranger” (the idol worshipper turned proselyte). When the “stranger” ceases worshipping idols and begins the process of Torah study; no one oppresses, mocks or demeans his origins. Later Medieval Commentators explain that the “stranger” is not only an idol worshipper turned proselyte, in other words, the spiritually defenseless. The “stranger” is the economically defenseless as well. RaShBam (11th Century French commentator and Rashi’s nephew) clarifies “Do not oppress him” to do your work since he has no champion. RaMBaM, the great Spanish commentator, adds a caveat to RaShBam. God defends the defenseless. God protects the widows and the orphans. In the previous Parsha, Yitro, God reminded Moshe to tell B’nai Yisroel that they were to be a Nation of Priests, that is to say, B’nai Yisroel is supposed to embody Godliness here on earth. Caring for the stranger embodies Godliness. Failure to care for the stranger embodies the Egyptians.
Underlying the mundane concern of human relations lies the most profound and awe-inspiring idea. It is human nature to fear the “other” to fear the “stranger”, to fear those who look different. Human nature is fully on display in the White House. Yet Torah, Judeo-Christian morality, liberal democracy and the values with which we raise our children seems to appeal to something that transcends human nature. Instead, we are supposed to strive for something greater than human nature. We are supposed to transcend our fear of the stranger, we are supposed to transcend our trepidation of the “other”; we are supposed to be able to empathize with the stranger. After all, at some point in our history, we were all strangers. This group of former slaves was learning how to create a civil, just, caring and humane society predicated upon law, trust, the sanctity of the human soul, and the necessity for empathy. Over the past several Mondays, we have noticed our son has started to understand what means to empathize. Maybe the Whitehouse should participate in an “Out of the Cold” program.
Peace,
Rav Yitz
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