By Rabbi Ronit Tsadok, Director of Project Kavod
This year, participating in HIAS Refugee Shabbat, from February 28 to March 1, feels more important than ever. This is a critical moment for all of us to reaffirm and redouble our support for refugees, asylum seekers, and the forcibly displaced. If you want to participate in Refugee Shabbat, learn more here.
For 133 years, JFS has stood as a beacon of hope, with the help of our community, supporting refugees and immigrants seeking to rebuild their lives in safety and dignity.
My grandparents were immigrants. When they first arrived in Israel after a treacherous journey from Yemen—where they had been facing violence and persecution—they had no money and no food. Before they left Yemen, a relative warned them that their valuables would be stolen during their journey and offered to hold on to everything and send it later. They never saw their treasured possessions again. After they finally made it to Israel, nobody would hire my grandfather, even though he was a skilled jeweler. He never did find his place.
This is a piece of my family’s story. It lives in me. And I think about my grandparents often these days, as we try to respond to the flurry of executive orders and directives issued by the White House affecting refugees and immigrants.
These changes and others are having a tremendous negative impact on people who are already among the most vulnerable in our society. Many are afraid to go to work or take their children to school. Churches, synagogues, and mosques are no longer spaces of security and safety.
We often teach that the Jewish imperative to care for the immigrant and refugee is rooted in our own story. One example of this teaching comes from Exodus 23:9:
“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.”
This idea—knowing the soul of the stranger—is powerful. Remember that we were once the strangers in Egypt, the outsiders, the immigrant, and the oppressed. Draw on that experience. Let it fuel your empathy and drive you to take action. Do not oppress the other—you must even love her.
The idea that we “know the soul of the stranger” might also serve as a warning. Sometimes, our impulse is to distance ourselves from past suffering. When we encounter someone whose pain reminds us too deeply of our own, we may push them away or even participate in their oppression. The Torah commands us: Do not rewrite your story or harden your heart, lest you become complicit in the suffering of others. Stay connected to your past and to your vulnerability.
Maybe you had a great-grandfather who could not find a job, so he changed his name, hoping just one person would give him a chance. Or maybe you heard how hard it was for your relatives to make a new life in a place where they didn’t know the language. Or maybe you learned how your family was taken advantage of.
In his essay, “Vision and Details,” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks shares an idea from Yale law professor, Robert Cover. Rabbi Sacks writes:
“…beneath the laws of any given society is a nomos, that is, a vision of an ideal social order that the law is intended to create. And behind every nomos is a narrative, that is, a story about why the shapers and visionaries of that society or group came to have that specific vision of the ideal order they sought to build.”
The narratives we tell shape our vision of society and the laws that govern it.
How we tell our own stories—and how we listen to the stories of others—matters. Those in greatest need and greatest danger right now must have their stories heard. These stories not only affirm the dignity and worth of each person, but they also serve as the foundation for just laws, just as they did in the Torah. When we understand the suffering of others, our society will necessarily reflect that understanding through policies that protect all its inhabitants.
So, whose stories do we need to hear and share in this moment?
Here’s How You Can Help
Welcome the stranger: By purchasing from our wish list, you can help provide refugees who are new to the Puget Sound region with welcoming and essential items to help them settle into their new home.
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