Rabbi Scott A. Hoffman, Ph.D.
This week’s Torah portion is Ki Teitzei: Deuteronomy 21:10 – 25:19
The portion Ki Teitzei contains more of the Torah’s 613 mitzvot than any other reading. But I would like to focus on one very striking commandment, the prohibition of excluding an Egyptian from entering the Jewish community. We read that, in contrast to other nationalities, “You shall not abhor an Egyptian, for you were a stranger in that land. Children born to them may be admitted into the congregation of God in the third generation.” (Deuteronomy 23:8-9)
Given that we were slaves for centuries to Pharaoh in Egypt, this seems like a curious statement. Let me suggest three reasons from rabbinic sources to clarify its basis.
The first possibility, suggested by the Talmud (Brachot 63a) is that, in the time of Joseph, the Egyptians treated us well. Now granted, the reason is that Joseph’s leadership rescued Egypt from a famine and therefore it was in the national self-interest to avoid oppression.
Nevertheless, the Talmud contends that because the Jewish story in Egypt contains elements of both comity and enmity, we should not take a stringent approach to Egyptians in the future, in contrast to certain other nationalities.
A second reason, found in the 10th-century midrash Devarim Rabbah, is that pursuing peace is a form of imitating God — for my Latin buffs, imitatio dei. Scripture makes clear that, were human beings alone left to decide the proper course of action, we would never be so generous. The Torah is replete with descriptions of the rigor of the work our ancestors were tasked with, and rabbinic expositions of these texts make it clear that the oppression was even worse than the Torah would have us believe. Yet for Devarim Rabbah, God takes a more compassionate approach because the pursuit of peace is a value sui generis. “Love peace and pursue it,” we read in Psalms. (34:15)
Finally, our sages argue in Kohelet Rabbah (7th century) that there can be certain benefits to ourselves when we treat others with undeserved kindness. A story is told of the sage Bar Kappara (early 3rd century), a younger contemporary of the better-known Rabbi Judah the Prince, that he once observed a shipwreck and ran to help. He found a man whom he determined to be a prince, albeit not of an allied nation. Nevertheless, Bar Kappara provided him generously with food, clothing and shelter which matched the splendor to which he was accustomed.
Some time later, several Jewish captives needed to be redeemed, and it was decided to send Bar Kappara. To make a long story short, the prince welcomed Bar Kappara to plead his case, remembered his kindness at the time of the shipwreck, and freed the hostages. This is a particularly poignant story at this time when our brothers and sisters remain in Hamas’ captivity.
In our own day, Israel, like any other nation, must choose to make peace at times with nations which only partially share its value system. There are nevertheless valid reasons to pursue these national relationships, and in fact Egypt may be the best example. Even our cold peace with that nation has saved countless Jewish lives, and for that we are always grateful.
To turn a popular phrase squarely upon its head, with enemies like these, we can get by even with fewer friends.
Rabbi Scott A. Hoffman, Ph.D., is interim rabbi of Shaare Torah in Gaithersburg, Maryland.
