(ד) שְׁמַ֖ע יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל יי אֱלֹקֵ֖ינוּ יי ׀ אֶחָֽד׃ (ה) וְאָ֣הַבְתָּ֔ אֵ֖ת יי אֱלֹקֶ֑יךָ בְּכׇל־לְבָבְךָ֥ וּבְכׇל־נַפְשְׁךָ֖ וּבְכׇל־מְאֹדֶֽךָ׃ (ו) וְהָי֞וּ הַדְּבָרִ֣ים הָאֵ֗לֶּה אֲשֶׁ֨ר אָנֹכִ֧י מְצַוְּךָ֛ הַיּ֖וֹם עַל־לְבָבֶֽךָ׃ (ז) וְשִׁנַּנְתָּ֣ם לְבָנֶ֔יךָ וְדִבַּרְתָּ֖ בָּ֑ם בְּשִׁבְתְּךָ֤ בְּבֵיתֶ֙ךָ֙ וּבְלֶכְתְּךָ֣ בַדֶּ֔רֶךְ וּֽבְשׇׁכְבְּךָ֖ וּבְקוּמֶֽךָ׃ (ח) וּקְשַׁרְתָּ֥ם לְא֖וֹת עַל־יָדֶ֑ךָ וְהָי֥וּ לְטֹטָפֹ֖ת בֵּ֥ין עֵינֶֽיךָ׃ (ט) וּכְתַבְתָּ֛ם עַל־מְזֻז֥וֹת בֵּיתֶ֖ךָ וּבִשְׁעָרֶֽיךָ׃ {ס}
(4) Hear, O Israel! Adonai is our God, Adonai alone. (5) You shall love your God Adonai with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. (6) Take to heart these instructions with which I charge you this day. (7) Impress them upon your children. Recite them when you stay at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up. (8) Bind them as a sign on your hand and let them serve as a symbol on your forehead; (9) inscribe them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.
Do you recognize this? Why is this so important to us as Jews?
(י) וְהָיָ֞ה כִּ֥י יְבִיאֲךָ֣ ׀ יי אֱלֹקֶ֗יךָ אֶל־הָאָ֜רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֨ר נִשְׁבַּ֧ע לַאֲבֹתֶ֛יךָ לְאַבְרָהָ֛ם לְיִצְחָ֥ק וּֽלְיַעֲקֹ֖ב לָ֣תֶת לָ֑ךְ עָרִ֛ים גְּדֹלֹ֥ת וְטֹבֹ֖ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹא־בָנִֽיתָ׃ (יא) וּבָ֨תִּ֜ים מְלֵאִ֣ים כׇּל־טוּב֮ אֲשֶׁ֣ר לֹא־מִלֵּ֒אתָ֒ וּבֹרֹ֤ת חֲצוּבִים֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר לֹא־חָצַ֔בְתָּ כְּרָמִ֥ים וְזֵיתִ֖ים אֲשֶׁ֣ר לֹא־נָטָ֑עְתָּ וְאָכַלְתָּ֖ וְשָׂבָֽעְתָּ׃ (יב) הִשָּׁ֣מֶר לְךָ֔ פֶּן־תִּשְׁכַּ֖ח אֶת־יי אֲשֶׁ֧ר הוֹצִֽיאֲךָ֛ מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם מִבֵּ֥ית עֲבָדִֽים׃
(10) When your God Adonai brings you into the land that was sworn to your fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to be assigned to you—great and flourishing cities that you did not build, (11) houses full of all good things that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant—and you eat your fill, (12) take heed that you do not forget Adonai who freed you from the land of Egypt, the house of bondage.
These are the immediate next verses. Why do you think they come next? What does it tell us/remind us?
The Torah teaches us 36 times to not oppress the stranger. In modern times, this is typically interpreted as an argument for welcoming refugees and immigrants. Here is an example:
(לג) וְכִֽי־יָג֧וּר אִתְּךָ֛ גֵּ֖ר בְּאַרְצְכֶ֑ם לֹ֥א תוֹנ֖וּ אֹתֽוֹ׃ (לד) כְּאֶזְרָ֣ח מִכֶּם֩ יִהְיֶ֨ה לָכֶ֜ם הַגֵּ֣ר ׀ הַגָּ֣ר אִתְּכֶ֗ם וְאָהַבְתָּ֥ לוֹ֙ כָּמ֔וֹךָ כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרָ֑יִם אֲנִ֖י יי אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃
(33) When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not wrong him. (34) The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I the Eternal am your God.
Why do you think it is said so many times? What are we to do?
Torah uses many verbs to discuss our relationships with the strangers - love them, befriend them, not wrong them, not oppress them, remember them (and their experiences), acknowledge their feelings, hear them out, do not judge falsely, decide justly, rejoice with them, do not subvert their rights, give to them, enjoy with them - just to name a few.
Why do you think the stranger is not only talked about so many times, but discussed in a variety of scenarios?
But it is not only empathy’s mechanism of imaginative engagement that is revealed in Moses’ generational elision. . . We must be schooled in [empathy’s] compulsory nature no less than 36 times, tutored in its essentialness. . .“It was you who were a slave; it is you who knows the heart of a stranger.” Moses’ elision thus helps us internalize that empathy is not always and already there, burrowed inside like a jack-in-the-box, awaiting an opening to spring forth. It is rather an iterative effort that demands rehearsal and repetition. . .
How then do we maintain the psychological muscle that Moses’ generational slide helped to build? How do we stave off its atrophy?
We can take a cue from Moses, who at the end of his life finally speaks freely to his people, telling them “their” story through his own and those of their forebears. To engage the empathic muscle, we too should immerse ourselves in stories. We should seek out the tales of the oppressed stranger, read her literature, ferret out her testimony. We should find ways to see her face when she speaks–through film, through lectures, through travel. . .
And when that empathetic muscle is flexed, our imaginations gripped, we should charge ourselves with the knowledge that for Moses, we will never—and should never—cease being the strangers of his story. Rachel Farbiarz from American Jewish World Service, July 27, 2009
What do you think about this understanding of our text? How do we apply it to today and the ways San Antonio is experiencing the migrants?
The New Colossus
BY EMMA LAZARUS
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “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!”
Emma Lazarus was a Jewish woman whose poem was accepted as the meaning of the Statue of Liberty in New York. How does her poem represent Jewish experience? What do you think it means that the statue’s name in the poem is “Mother of Exiles”?