Suffering can teach us love, but all too often we let it teach us apathy and indifference — or, worse, unbridled rage and hostility. Our afflictions harden us, turn our focus stubbornly inward, make our most aggressive impulses seem both necessary and justified. We come to feel entitled: I was oppressed, and no one championed my cause; I don’t owe anything to anyone. But the Bible encourages us to take the opposite tack: I was oppressed, and no one came to my aid; therefore I will never abandon someone vulnerable or in pain.
Many people who have suffered terribly, whether personally or politically, hear both voices in our heads and have both impulses in our hearts. One voice tells us that the pain we have endured (or are enduring) frees us from responsibility to and for others — justifies our fixating on ourselves — while another voice insists that our suffering must teach us to care more and more deeply for others. Through the mandate to love the stranger, the Bible commands us to nurture the latter impulse rather than the former, to let our suffering teach us love.
At a moment like this, the mandate to love the stranger can seem to be speaking to broad and intractable geopolitical conflicts, and in fact, it is, but it also addresses us personally, at the most intimate levels. I know both these voices only too well. Having lost my father as a child and been left alone with a mother who lacked the emotional tools to parent any child, let alone a grieving one, I struggle at times with feeling entitled to ignore other people’s pain and care for just my own. And yet — having experienced aloneness, abandonment and abuse — I also feel an intensified sense of empathy for and responsibility toward those who are alone, abandoned or abused. It is this impulse that the Bible seeks to nurture in me and in each of us.
This week, when we retell the Exodus story, we must remember its implications: Since we know vulnerability, the plight of the vulnerable — whether among our own kin or among those who do not look or pray or speak like us — makes an especially forceful claim on us.
The commandment to do this work is both individual and communal; it is, on the one hand and at various points in the Bible, very much specific to Jews. But on the other hand, it is fundamental to the heritage of human civilization, and thus it addresses every person and every people who hear it. Perhaps, having suffered, you are tempted to learn indifference or even hate. Refuse that temptation. Let your memory teach you empathy and your suffering teach you love.
