Remember. This portion is about memory. We are told that we need to remember that we were slaves in the land of Egypt.
“Remember that you were a slave in Egypt and that your God יהוה redeemed you from there; therefore do I enjoin you to observe this commandment.” (24:18)
“But wait,” you say, “this is Moses addressing the next generation. They were not slaves in Egypt.” That experience was so seminal, so formulative, so important that even until today there are clear echoes. Every Passover at the seder we say, “We were slaves in the land of Israel.” This is a clear example of what we call today, “generational trauma.” And it is trauma that leads us to better behavior than how the Egyptians that enslaved us.
36 times in Torah we are told to take care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger. As I often say, the most marginalized among us.
We are told to “love G-d, V’ahavta et Adonai. Love our neighbor, V’ahavta l’reyacha kamocha and Love the Stranger, v’ohav ger”. This las one, love the stranger, is precisely because being a stranger in Egypt was bad.
Let me be clear. Being a slave was bad. We did not have rights. There was no Shabbat. There was not enough time for, shall we call it, conjugal relations. You could be beaten at will. There was not enough food. OK, cucumbers and leeks and melons are tasty and the Israelits longed for them in the desert, but they are not sustainable.
Rabbi Lord Sacks said: “The Hebrew Bible contains the great command, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ (Leviticus 19:18), and this has often been taken as the basis of biblical morality. But it is not: it is only part of it. The Jewish sages noted that on only one occasion does the Hebrew Bible command us to love our neighbour, but in thirty-seven places it commands us to love the stranger. Our neighbour is one we love because he is like ourselves. The stranger is one we are taught to love precisely because he is not like ourselves.”
Many of those 36 or 37 or as the Talmud argues maybe even 46 quotes are in today’s portion. I will underscore them for you:
When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf in the field, do not turn back to get it; it shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow—in order that your God יהוה may bless you in all your undertakings.
This is why we have a community garden. If you need something take it. Sometimes it goes to the micro-pantry across the street at Holy Trinity. Getting fresh veggies if you are on the margins is tough. Or ask Jerry about the guy walking by who wanted a spicy pepper. He was thrilled when Jerry just gave him four. “Really?” he asked in surprise. That’s why it is there!
You shall not abuse a needy and destitute laborer, whether a fellow Israelite or a stranger in one of the communities of your land.
You shall not subvert the rights of the stranger or the fatherless; you shall not take a widow’s garment in pawn.
When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf in the field, do not turn back to get it; it shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow—in order that your God יהוה may bless you in all your undertakings.
When you beat down the fruit of your olive trees, do not go over them again; that shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.
When you gather the grapes of your vineyard, do not pick it over again; that shall go to the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.
Taking care of the widow. We get that. Our job is to bury the dead and comfort the bereaved. Our job is to provide meaningful engagement to widows and widowers so they don’t feel isolated and alone. This summer marked the 20th anniversary of the heat wave in Chicago that killed 739 people over a period of five days. Yes it was hot. Yes, people lacked air conditioning. But one of the biggest contributing factors was that people were alone. No one knew that they were there. While we have a number of people in this aging category and living alone, I think they are more integrated and they all have air conditioning. (I know, in my role of rabbi, I checked! Those calls are part of loving our neighbors as ourselves)
Taking care of the fatherless, the orphans maybe even harder to understand how to do that. That involves advocating for a foster care system that works on behalf of the children, advocating for SNAP and Medicaid, participating in our annual Isaiah Kol Nidre Food Drive.
Why? Why then is the Torah so repetitive? It seems simple, no? Again, the text reminds us, “Always remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt; therefore do I enjoin you to observe this commandment.”
And yet, we are told something else too in today’s portion:
Remember what Amalek did to you. To us.
“Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—
how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear.
Therefore, when your God יהוה grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that your God יהוה is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!”
These are the driving principles in Judaism. Jewish values. Remember that we were slaves, so we should treat the strangers with love, with respect, providing for their needs. And remember Amalek. It is a both and.
We are at just such a moment where both are in play. And the echoes exist not just in ancient history but more recent. I don’t personally remember the St. Louis, the ship that was turned away from these shores during the Holocaust. But my brother-in-law cites that as the reason he became an immigration attorney and judge. Even last week when we were all together, he was on his phone working with a client from Afghanistan. Just as he was at my husband’s last big birthday. There are many organizations that work on immigrant rights: HIAS, National Immigration Law Center (NILC), the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), the International Rescue Committee (IRC), and the National Immigrant Justice Center (NIJC). My brother-in-law has worked with HIAS, Episcopal Relief, Jewish Federations, Catholic Charities. There are many local and regional groups, such as the Illinois Coalition for Immigrant and Refugee Rights (ICIRR), who also offer resources and support. In Elgin we have Centro de Informacion whom we at CKI have supported, and whose executive director has spoken right from this bimah, and CMAA who is headquartered across the street at Holy Trinity. I interned for such an agency in rabbinical school, Refugee Immigration Ministry. Like my brother-in -aw I was driven by the same Jewish values of welcoming the stranger. That was the year of 9/11 and I remember the executive director explaining to the staff on the Friday after the attacks that our clients were scared. They had made it to the United States and now they had nowhere else they could go. It was a powerful moment.
We have congregants today who are scared. Really scared. Did you know that we have members who come from 17 foreign countries? Some of them are scared of being picked up, even those with legal standing. That they worry their kids or grandkids could be separated from them, no matter how long they have been in this country.
What we are witnessing now in this country is a fear of the other, and a fear that operates from a scarcity mindset, that there will not be enough to go around. Not enough jobs. Not enough education. Not enough health care. From the richest nation in the world. We have forgotten what it means to be a stranger. It is based on the Amalek way of seeing the world.
It is not limited to the United States either. We are seeing it in some of the responses to Gaza. Make no mistake, It has been 700 days since Hamas invaded Israel. 700 days since the remaining 58 hostages have been held. 700 days since Israel began exerting revenge. 700 days where Gazans have struggled to find food, shelter, healthcare. 700 days too long. It has all be nothing short of brutal.
We have to hold both things at once and act accordingly. Yossi Klein Halevy talks about Passover Jews and Purim Jews. I thought someone finally undestood my husband, a Passover loving Jew and me, a Purim one. No. Passover Jews are the ones who remember we were strangers. Purim Jews are the one who remember Amalek, the precursor of Haman and Hitler and dare I say Hamas. But in the last two years he has mitigated his stance. His words are much more eloquent than mine: https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/our-season-of-reckoning-israels-moral-crossroads-in-gaza/
Read the full article. He ends it with this:
“Now, as Rosh Hashanah approaches, we are once again at a moral crossroads. Perhaps the most profound move of the High Holidays is not that God puts us on trial but that we hold ourselves accountable for our actions. Even as the mob taunts us with its lies, our self-reckoning can no longer be avoided.”
It is painful. It is important. I confess I had to take breaks to read the full thing. On the eve of whatever may happen in Gaza and whatever may happen in Chicago and Elgin as an outlining suburban city in the suburbs, I urge you to remember. We were slaves. We must remember to take care of the widow, the orphan and the stranger. Wherever they may be.
We were slaves, strangers so we must treat the stranger well. And we need to remember Amalek. Do not forget.