I suspect that like me, most of us were raised with a healthy distrust of strangers. Refrains of ‘don’t talk to strangers,’ ‘don’t take candy from someone you do not know.’ and ‘never get in a stranger’s car’ were refrains said often enough to become a part of our subconscious.
And then I lived in Israel where I recently heard that someone taught his children ‘when in danger, find a stranger.” Suddenly various aspects of my life coalesced with the approaching of Pesach (Passover). Loving the stranger is mentioned more than any other mitzvah in Torah. No less than 36 times. The Torah even tells us why we should do so in D’varim 10:19 “And you should love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Most of these commandments assume a society like ancient Israel, where the Israelites (the Jewish people) are the “native-born” and non-Jews are strangers. The Torah seems to teach us though, we are all strangers, even when we think we are at home. When we get comfortable it is easy to forget the discomfort of others. The stories of Torah and Pesach help to remind us that we once were strangers in a foreign land and may still feel different from the people we meet. They also teach us that we can choose to focus on our similarities rather than on our differences.
The cornerstone of the Seder is the telling of enslavement in Egypt and redemption. We are also reminded of the beautiful treatment of Joseph by Pharaoh, who provided this non-native man kindness and learning. Likewise we are reminded of the treatment of Pharaoh version 2 who was, let’s say less than kind to the stranger living in his land. More than that we are also reminded of the ancestry that preceded our liberation from Egypt. After all, Moses was born in Egypt, Abraham in Mesopotamia, and Rivka from Turkey of today. Once, we were all very literally strangers in a new land. As we progress through the 15 steps of the seder we are forced to remember that once we were vulnerable and without rights or protection. These rituals are meant to help us cultivate empathy for the stranger and the oppressed.
One of the first things we are asked to do on Seder night is to open the door and invite in all who are hungry. “This is the bread of affliction that our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt.’ we entone, “All who are hungry, let them come and eat, anyone who is needy come and make Pesah.” We don’t ask their background or ascertain if they are truly hungry. If they are standing outside the door, we make space for them, for we are all one. How would it feel though, to open your door and actually find someone there that you did not know who was hoping to be invited in? A stranger joining an intimate, highly planned and orchestrated evening of family and friends. As we relive our bondage in Egypt and exodus to the Promised Land we have the opportunity to invite someone to journey with us, if only for the evening. Perhaps today, we are not strangers in this classical sense of the Torah, yet as our daily contact with others has grown so has the distance between people. Today we routinely interact with people who are unknown to us. Then the question is, how do we relate to the stranger among us?
This past week I had the opportunity to hike the Northern half of Shvil HaGolan (The Golan Trail). Along the trail there are people, Shvil Angels (Trail Angels) who post their phone numbers for anyone on the trail that might need help. This was also true of the Israel National Trail (600 miles for my 40th birthday). These angles might pick you up, feed you a meal or open their home to you – a total stranger who shows up and announces they are hiking. In a couple of cases while on the Israel National Trail we were told where to find the house key and to make ourselves comfortable. Likewise this past week there was a section of the trail that we were going to need to make our way back from where it ends. When we arrived, we stood by the road and hitchhiked a ride with a local couple on their way home for the day. They picked up two strangers, we got in the car with two strangers, and no one really thought about if we should, because this is Israel where everyone takes care of everyone else (if only it were 100% so – but let’s not ruin a good story with full reality.)
But that is not my favorite Israel tale of trusting the stranger. My favorite comes from the public buses. Typically when a mother is getting onto the bus with a stroller, baby and as often as not, other kids in tow and a multitude of bags, she will ascend through the back door which is larger. It’s not easy negotiating all these things onto a bus during the minute or so the doors are open. More than once I have seen a mother hand her infant to a total stranger while she manages the stroller and such. Once she has settled in and paid for her ride the baby is handed back to her welcoming arms.
As we prepare to enter our second ‘socially distanced’ Pesach season where we may not have the ability to be with the family and friends who are distant from us perhaps we can be together with someone else who also can not travel to their family. If you are able to have a meal with others, is there someone in the community who will not have a seder to join that you can reach out to? Can we invite in and learn from a stranger among us? As we clean our homes, purchase our ‘bread of affliction’ and sit down to beautiful meals of abundance, let us look for the ties that bind us together in this world. Let us not allow the color of our skin, our religion, ethnicity or hometown divide us because we are all made in the image of God and our similarities run deep.