What does it mean to like the stranger?

Jewish academic and Hebrew scholar Irene Lancaster reflects on the concept of the stranger and what it means to like them in Judaism.

Who is the stranger in Judaism? A clue could also be given by one definition of ‘neighbour’ discussed in my previous article on the topic. Loving your neighbour as yourself may in reality mean loving the neighbour who has shown him or herself to be a real human being, a ‘mentsch’, as you hope that you simply are yourself. This is a really tall order. Often we do not have a clue about our neighbour, let alone the ‘stranger’.

In Judaism there are quite a few different words for ‘stranger’, one not less than often translated as ‘alien’. This word, nochri, in Hebrew, has a negative connotation in English, and on this country specifically. So many great grandparents, having arrived here from the pogroms in Russia and Eastern Europe, needed to contend with the Edwardian Aliens Act of 1905, geared toward stopping their emigration to the UK from certain death. An ‘alien’ to the British then was an ‘undesirable immigrant’.

And this was how the word nochri was has also often been translated in academic and popular Jewish literature. For example, the good Israeli Bible Scholar, Yehezekel Kaufmann’s (1889-1963) first major book, Golah ve-Necher (1928-32), was translated into English as Exile and Alienhood. A more accommodating translation would have been something like On Being a Stranger in Diaspora, which is more redolent of quirky trips abroad. But the more honest and striking translation stood. The term ‘alienhood’ doesn’t sit thoroughly with us, and perhaps for superb reason. The book itself deals with the alienation felt by the Jew in Diaspora, the Exile situation from the Jewish homeland, and subsequently, for us in 2024, absolutely the imperative for Jews to have a Jewish homeland that Jews can call their very own.

The incontrovertible fact that Jews are still not thought to be an ethnic minority within the UK, for instance, is a scandal, because it signifies that Jews haven’t any legal rights on this country and are subsequently thought to be ‘alien’. Maybe that’s the reason peaceful Jews are either ignored, or arrested by the police in the course of the current London marches against the Jews. If you do not exist as a legal ethnic entity, unlike Muslims for instance, then you definately aren’t any higher, as Kafka argued of the Jewish condition, than insects, and that is strictly how Jews are being treated here at present. 

But when the Bible describes the stranger, often it uses one other term, ‘ger‘, which, in Hebrew, hints at the potential for ‘conversion’. And the 2 phrases given are ‘ger toshav’ and ‘ger tzedek’. A ger toshav is an individual living within the Land of Israel in Bible times who maintains a broad association with the Jewish people, without actually becoming Jewish. A ger tzedek is, nonetheless, a really special person, who takes on the yoke of Judaism, and might subsequently change into Jewish and be thought to be Jewish. But this will not be a lot to do with belief within the accepted Western sense inherited from Christian doctrine, as with deeds and practice.

The best recent description in English of those two groups of individuals, the ger toshav and the ger tzedek, has been given by Rabbi Haim Angel of the US-based Institute for Jewish Ideas and Ideals. And I’m subsequently delighted at his timing and link to his article on this subject here. It needs to be emphasized nonetheless, and will indeed be evident to all, that following Jewish practice must of necessity incorporate belief in that practice. People are usually not coerced to change into Jewish. Authenticity is more essential in Judaism than ‘numbers on seats.’

I recently asked the previous Archbishop of Canterbury, Baron Williams of Oystermouth, for his interpretation of the Good Samaritan story, which only appears within the Book of Luke chapter 10, and is said in the shape of a parable. He shared an interesting interpretation of this Gospel story within the context of ‘universal love’ and the incontrovertible fact that some thinkers interpret the so-called ‘radical’ views of each Jesus and Paul on ‘universal love’ as resulting from the approaching ‘end times’ assumed in NT teaching:

‘As to universal love: it’s true that the sense of an impending end makes Jesus and Paul radical in some ways. But I *think* the purpose in Jesus’ teaching is a little more complex. The parable of the Good Samaritan will not be (despite any variety of sermons!) about who the neighbour is that you simply’re imagined to love, but whether you’ll be able to recognise and receive ‘neighbourly’ love from people outside the expected circle. Jesus is saying, I believe, ‘It’s possible that even probably the most respectable religious members of your individual kin – priest and Levite – may fall short of their duty; others may unexpectedly step in. Be grateful for this, and return that care as best you’ll be able to.’

‘All of which is, in my opinion, something apart from a universalist versus a particularist view of affection. Jesus is not advancing a theory by which Jewish distinctiveness is being overthrown; it’s more like the best way by which in Hebrew scripture there may be a consistent reminder that individuals outside the kindred should have a task within the divine purpose for that individuals (Jethro, Ruth, Cyrus…). So as I read it, Jesus is answering the ‘Who is my neighbour?’ query not by saying simply ‘Anyone and everybody’; the parable takes without any consideration that the priest and Levite have real obligations to a fellow-Jew that they are usually not fulfilling. God provides even when people fail in those obligations; and for this reason, we understand that our obligations don’t stop with kindred, since something is owed to the righteous ‘outsider.’ The imperative laid upon Israel becomes something that the non-Jew is irresistibly drawn to (Paul seems to assume this in Romans), and on this process enters the community of mutual service and protection that’s the people living under Law.’

As a Jew, I read Baron Williams’ interpretation as taking without any consideration that the ‘priest’ and the ‘Levite’ are imagined to act as role models for the Jewish people and are subsequently cited first as being obliged to take appropriate motion and assist a fellow human being. This may be very different from the Jewish interpretation of the role of the priest or the Levite who in Judaism had a really circumscribed role as purveyors of formality Temple behaviour and were subsequently not thought to be role models for ethical behaviour within the sense of the prophets, and even the king/judges of Israel, who were tasked with these on a regular basis decisions. 

But to get back to the concept of stranger as ‘ger’, is the sojourner, or non-Israelite foreigner resident within the Land of Israel, who has no family or clan to take care of him, and is subsequently vulnerable to social and economic exploitation. This term has now been prolonged by some to incorporate a Jewish one that has been dislocated for one reason or one other and is subsequently in Shai Held’s words: ‘a vulnerable person from outside the important thing family.’

Contemporary examples of those can be those Israelis who’re currently refugees in their very own land, having been displaced for over eight months resulting from the war with Hamas and Hezbollah, each proxies of Iran. These people have had to maneuver from the south and north of the tiny country, often into the unknown, and have change into depending on the good-will and generosity of others, who’ve magnificently stepped as much as the plate. Then there are the ‘lone soldiers’, people, each men and ladies, who emigrate to Israel from other countries with a view to fight for her. These ‘lone soldiers’ are also increasingly being sorted by ‘adopted’ Israeli families.

Always in Judaism the love of the ‘ger’  starts with love of your individual family, your individual neighbour, after which works outwards to anyone who doesn’t slot in but still demonstrates basic human norms. As an example of this, Menachem Begin was the primary Prime Minister to absorb the Vietnamese boat people within the Nineteen Seventies after they had nowhere else to go. They were very grateful, including some who eventually left Israel, but many opted to remain. Then there are the 2 million Arab Israelis living within the State of Israel, with a few of whom I’ve worked, and who feel a part of the Israeli story. This Arab identification with Israel was confirmed to me over and over when, at the top of February, I visited Jerusalem, where 40 per cent of the population of all the city is Arab (each Muslim and Christian). The Israeli Arabs I met and conversed with in Hebrew were pleased with the achievements of their country, the State of Israel, to which they’ve contributed a lot and proceed to achieve this.

This may be very different from the Palestinians living in Gaza and the West Bank who call for the destruction of not only Israel, but of the Jewish people entirely. The Israeli Arabs are an enormous success story as a minority. By contrast, the Jewish community of the UK haven’t any legal protection as a minority, and, by refusing to insist on this, the so-called Jewish leadership of the UK has rightly been accused of indifference and worse.

It is useful also to think about the Book of Deuteronomy on the mitzvah of loving the stranger (Deuteronomy 10:17-19): ‘For the Lord your G-d is G-d of gods and Lord of lords, the good G-d, the mighty, and the awe-inspiring, who shows no favour and takes no bribes. He upholds the reason behind the orphan and the widow, and loves the stranger (ger), by providing him/her with food and clothing. Therefore, you too must love the stranger, seeing that you simply yourselves were strangers within the land of Egypt.’

The orphan and the widow are bereft of each social standing and social support. Their entire world has collapsed and, if no assistance is given, they are going to go completely under. The stranger (ger) is just a continuation of that list. He or she will not be contrasted with the Jewish victims of death within the family, but is an element of this list.

And truly, so many ‘strangers’ living and/or working in Israel who related to the Jewish State on October 7^th behaved heroically. These include carers from abroad, in addition to the now well-documented story of young fleeing Israelis and their (also Israeli) Bedouin Arab helper, who, on October 7^th, directed Hamas in the other way, whilst hiding the young fleeing Israelis in his home/workplace. This was in fact in danger to his own life.

The Bedouin Arab whose religion and customs differs from that of the young Israelis searching for succour, took the snap decision to acknowledge in himself that he identified with the Jewish State of Israel which has given a lot to the Bedouin community. At risk to his own life, he preferred the rough and prepared young Israeli Jews to his own powerful co-religionists, also Arabic speakers, who had the ability of life and death over him. It would have been really easy for the Bedouin Arab to comply with the Hamas demand. However, in these minutes, by showing that he truly loved the stranger, the Bedouin Arab also exemplified the Jewish biblical injunction, to ‘love your neighbour as yourself’.

So, mockingly perhaps, loving the stranger can actually equate with loving your neighbour as yourself.