Here is a D'var Torah that I presented to Larchmont Temple (where I am a rabbinic intern) on Shabbat, February 3, 2017/8 Shevat 5777. In it, I discuss the role of Judaism in navigating this world, looking at in politics in general and accepting foreigners/immigrants specifically. A recording can also be found here starting around 31:00.
Parashat Bo:
Putting Faith in Our Sages to Navigate This World
I am angry and afraid.
When I picture legal residents—college students, professors,
people who assisted the US armed forces—being suddenly detained or turned away
from our borders, anger swells within me. When I imagine children and their
families, desperately fleeing war-torn Syria and finally arriving on our shores
seeking freedom, only to be told that they are no longer welcome here, fury boils
over. And, when I remember that Jews were also once turned away from America’s
shores, just like certain Muslims today, I grow fearful.
I would guess that, perhaps, I’m not alone in these
feelings.
Yet, for the first time in my life, I’m upset enough to do
something about it.
I have been marching. Two weeks ago, my fiancée and I
travelled down to Washington, D.C. for the Women’s March. Last week, we
journeyed out to JFK Airport to protest the new administration’s ban on certain
Muslim immigrants.
I have been marching. I have been donating.
But I’ve also been questioning.
As a Jewish leader and rabbinical student, I’ve been
questioning the Jewish voice in navigating the complexities of this world. When
we face civil and political questions, how do we approach them with Jewish
values and texts? How do we put aside party platforms and instead uphold our
Jewish tradition?
These are the questions with which I have been wrestling as
I read the news and as I decide on which issues I should take action.
To be sure, I recognize that discussing politics is a sticky
issue. Some of you, I know, will agree with what I present tonight, but some of
you may not. And there are others, still, for whom this is a non-issue
entirely. Yet, while our tradition may not always present clear-cut answers to
every sociopolitical question, it does address them. Jewish texts are replete
with laws and opinions on social policy, ranging from worker-employer
relations, to poverty, and even to immigrants and refugees.[1]
In other words, we must seek the guidance of our Jewish tradition as we walk
through the world around us in all its forms, including political crises.
After all, this is also our mussar value this week, Emunat
Chachamim, Faith in the Sages. We as Jews must rely on our rabbis and teachers,
both of the past and present, to help guide us through the modern world.[2]
So, how do we do it? What does Judaism say about navigating
the meshugas around us?
Well, I could spout our social justice slogans. “Justice,
justice shall you pursue” proclaims the Torah. But that could mean anything. To
truly address the problems of this world, we must dig deeper. So let’s do that
with this issue that’s been on my mind lately, as it might be on yours: What
might Judaism say about foreigners, immigrants, and refugees who want to enter
our homeland?
Let us begin with our Torah portion this week, Parashat
Bo. Tucked hidden away in the triumphant escape from Egypt sits a subtle
yet profound verse:
תּוֹרָ֣ה אַחַ֔ת יִהְיֶ֖ה
לָֽאֶזְרָ֑ח וְלַגֵּ֖ר הַגָּ֥ר בְּתוֹכְכֶֽם׃
“There shall be one
law for the citizen and for the stranger who dwells among you.”[3]
This verse establishes two categories of people, a citizen
and a ger. That Hebrew word, ger, translates into a few English
terms, including protected foreigner, stranger, and even refugee.[4]
But who really is this ger? Do we really need to treat all
strangers as if they were one of our own?
It turns out that, just like our political discourse today,
Judaism also approaches this issue from the perspective of security versus
humanitarianism. In fact, the medieval sage Abraham ibn Ezra notes that in our
verse, a ger refers to a “righteous stranger,” rather than an enemy. He
implies that we must respect only those foreigners who are friendly or virtuous,
not our enemies. Can’t you hear this on the news today?
Furthermore, Jewish sources repeatedly declare that we can
and should ensure our own safety and protection. Rashi comments that Israelites
living on frontier towns would lock their gates to keep out enemies.[5]
Rabbi Joseph Caro legislates that we may protect against foreigners who sneak
into our towns to attack, even at the risk of violating the laws of Shabbat.[6]
Thus, we see that Judaism upholds the right to protect
ourselves from foreigners.
Yet, as Ibn Ezra states, we must differentiate between the
enemy ger, and the righteous ger. This second ger is not
some enemy crouching on our borders, but rather is someone who needs our mercy.
Indeed, the Bible repeatedly associates the ger with
the orphan, the widow, and others who lack power and privilege.[7]
These individuals cling desperately to the bottom rung of the Biblical socioeconomic
ladder. Without our assistance, they would be helpless. In fact, the Torah commands
us to protect the stranger no fewer than thirty-six times![8]
Furthermore, the rabbis command that we must imagine as if
we ourselves were a ger. [9]
We must empathize with the anguish, the terror, of fleeing our home toward an
unknown land or of arriving at unwelcome borders. Perhaps you heard of the
five-year-old boy who was recently detained for more than four hours at Dulles
Airport because, the White House claims, he may have been a terror threat.[10]
Hearing his story overpowers me with emotions; I cannot imagine what he and his
family endured. This little boy is not an enemy, but a powerless individual
whom God commands us to protect.
This is what our sages teach me.
And so, when I feel overwhelmed and wonder what to do, I
once again turn to our sages. For instance, the great American rabbi Abraham
Joshua Heschel, when marching for Civil Rights in the 1960s, declared that in
marching, he prayed with his feet. Then there are New York City Rabbis Rachel
Grant Meyer and Joel Mosbacher, who led us in Havdallah at the protests
at JFK.
So yes, I have been questioning the Jewish response to our
hectic world. And I have found answers. Protect the stranger; seek justice;
pray with your feet. These are the Jewish values that I sought as I marched in
DC and at JFK; and they are the Jewish values I will turn to again when the
next crisis arises. I invite you to turn to them, too.
Of course, as I said earlier, you might disagree with me on these
issues. You may find that our Jewish texts offer a different answer. Our
tradition speaks in a multiplicity of voices.
What’s just as important, though, as the opinions we form, is
how we form them. Let us come to them Jewishly: through digging deeply into
Jewish texts and identifying Jewish values. In other words, let us rely on Emunat
Chachamim, the Faith of our Sages, the wisdom of our tradition.
With that, and in light of the Israelites receiving freedom
in this week’s portion, I will leave you with the wisdom of one last Jewish
sage, whose words still burn fiercely on the Statue of Liberty:
Give
me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door![11]
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door![11]
[1]
Jacobs, Rabbi Jill. There Shall Be No Needy. p. 2.
[2]
Morinis, Alan. With Heart in Mind. p. 132.
[3]
Exodus 12:49.
[4]
Koehler, Ludwig and Walter Baumgartner. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of
the Old Testament. Note also that in Rabbinic literature, ger can
often mean proselyte; here, however, that translation is not applicable.
[5] Rashi
on Deuteronomy 33:25.
[7] See,
for example, Deuteronomy 10:18, Jeremiah 7:6, Jeremiah 22:3, Ezekiel 22:7, Ps.
94:6, etc.
[8] B.
Bava Metzia 59b.
[9] M.
Pesachim 10:5.
[11]
Lazarus, Emma. “The New Colossus.”
