Breaking Bread with Bishops and the Dialogue of Being and Hospitality

Humans relate better to those we categorise as friends or kin, and we can develop such connections as much – or even more- by being together than by talking. On Tuesday night, a large number of Catholic bishops and Jewish leaders had a meal together. I found it inspiring and challenging.

Bishop Greg Homeming, an older man with glasses, dressed in a very simple brown monk’s robe and sandals, spoke to us about his experiences of friendship and breaking bread with Jewish people. In his anecdotes and sincerity, he demonstrated the importance of being together.

The bishop shared his experience of having Shabbat dinner with a Jewish family. After the meal, they all began shouting at each other. His own cultural heritage is Chinese, and the lively arguing that was normal for this family of Jewish-Lithuanian culture was new and interesting for him. I have developed a friendship with this bishop, but there was another rabbi there with whom he had developed a close bond over many years. I observed them from a distance during dinner. They were in animated conversation like old friends. This was a man who walked his talk.

The bishop’s hospitality was outstanding. They organised kosher catering for us. Delicious salmon, purple and orange carrots, roast potatoes, salad, humous, fruit and two types of cake for dessert. The company was lovely, chatting about various experiences, including how bishops are appointed and visiting people in prison among other matters. As I was leaving, a bishop who had had breakfast with my son and me in July 2024 at a kosher café remembered my son’s name and asked how he was. It was an outstanding evening.

Yet, I felt a bit restless. I believe passionately in the importance of “being”, as in being present and being the best version of ourselves, as opposed to just doing important tasks. Yet, I am a product of three cultures that emphasise activity. Judaism teaches us that “action is the main thing” (1); Chabad Hasidism, under the leadership of its last Rebbe, urged relentless and urgent activism and I am a child of New York, a city that never sleep or stops hustling. I was in a room full of leaders who were responsible for the education of hundreds of thousands of children, teachers and believers and it was such an opportunity to work, yet we sat like a bunch of people without a care in the world. This was because the dialogue of being was very important for all of us. There is also something Christian (or Catholic) about the experience I had that night, that moved me even if I can’t fully articulate it.

The intersection between being, doing and hospitality plays out in the story of Abraham who was “being” inspired and elevated by a divine revelation (2). Despite the loftiness of this experience, Abraham intentionally (3) shifted his attention from the divine visitation to an opportunity to offer hospitality to passing travellers (4).  This choice is justified in the Talmud as a principle that welcoming guests is greater than receiving the divine presence, the Shechina (5).

The prioritisation of hospitality over spiritual ecstasy could be understood as prioritising doing over being. This missed the idea that for Abraham being hospitable was a deeply moving and joyful (6) experience. Abraham’s enthusiasm can be seen in the way his whole family was enlisted in feeding the travellers and the five references to speed, rushing and running in describing the preparation (7). It helps to contrast the hospitality of Abraham’s nephew Lot (8) with that of Abraham. While both men insisted that their reluctant guests join them, in Lot’s case, there was no reference to speed or any member of his family joining in (9).  

As I reflect on the hospitality, fellowship, friendship and food offered to me last night by new and old friends, I acknowledge a precious gift and I recommit to the value of being, and the practice of the dialogue of being. Not all dialogue involves words.  This is beautifully put in a psalm: “There is no talking, without their voices being heard. [Yet], in all of the earth, their message goes forth, their ‘words’ to the very edges of the world.”  (10)

1)    Ethics of the Fathers 1:17

2)    Genesis 18:1

3)    Rabbi Simcha Zisl of Kelm

4)    Genesis 18:2

5)    Talmud, Shavuot 35b.

6)    The Baal Shem Tov comment relating to Genesis 18:19

7)    Genesis 18:6-8

8)    Genesis 19:1-3

9)    Hattin, M., Vayera | Life's Concentric Circles, https://etzion.org.il/en/tanakh/torah/sefer-bereishit/parashat-vayera/vayera-lifes-concentric-circles

10) Psalm 19:4-5

Curbing Compassion for Asylum Seekers?

Restraining Compassion

Australians are witnessing a dramatic shift in refugee policy. Only a few years back a new Labour Government emphatically rejected the previous government’s strategy of sending Asylum seekers to a third country, Nauru. In a matter of days Legislation is being enacted to allow this practice to resume. It has not been an easy decision, clearly some government MPs have reservations. Refugee advocates see this as a step away from a compassionate approach. Some have cried racism and prejudice, claiming that if those seeking entry to Australia were white farmers from Zimbabwe there would be a much more welcoming stance. Others vehemently reject any accusation of prejudice.

There has also been some discussion about an article by a member of the Jewish community about the need to curb our compassion (not the authors choice of title), or redirect it from those on the boats to other refugees waiting in queues. What contribution does my tradition bring to this debate?

The Stranger

Perhaps the most repeated commandment in the Torah is to love the stranger, often combined with a reminder of Jews’ experience of being an outsider in Egypt where we were made slaves. We must be concerned with the welfare of those who are vulnerable and are seen as outsiders/strangers.

To Curb and Not to Curb Compassion

In our Torah reading this week we have instructions both to curb our compassion and not to do so depending on the circumstances.  We are taught to curb our compassion in cases involving a person who leads others astray by promoting idol worship[i] and a Murder[ii]. Both cases involve extremely serious threats to the community, the latter to life itself and the former to spiritual life. In the case of a vulnerable person we are told “you shall not harden your heart, and you shall not close your hand from your needy brother[iii]”.

Deserving

Some have portrayed those arriving on our shores in boats as “queue jumpers”. Others have argued that because there are some Muslims who are extremists, this should influence attitudes to Muslim arrivals in general. Generalising from a tiny minority to a huge majority is neither reasonable nor just.

I don’t think it is racist to argue like my Darwin taxi driver did yesterday; that Australia’s charity should be prioritised to benefit people living in Australian, i.e. Aboriginal people living in dire poverty or that we should be equitable in our treatment of refugees whether they are in queues or boats. We are taught that in the administration of justice we must not be swept away by emotion[iv], instead we must be fair to all. Fairness includes being alert to unconscious prejudices that many of us still have in spite of our tolerant or accepting intentions.  

A teacher in Adelaide reflected last week on the fact that many Australians believed initial reports 10 years ago about asylum seekers that “those people” threw their children overboard. Some of us were prepared to believe that the people on these boats were so different from us that they lacked the fundamental human quality of parental love.

It is tempting when refusing to assist vulnerable people to portray them as undeserving. We are warned against this by our sages. The Torah states, “Beware, lest… your eyes will look in an evil way on your needy brother and not give him[v]”. At the simple level it means having an ungenerous perspective, but it is also interpreted to mean that in our reluctance to help a needy person we must not ascribe evil characteristics to the person seeking our help to justify our refusal[vi].

Changed Circumstances Justifies a change of policy

The home affairs minister, Jason Clare, argued on Radio this week that the Labour Government was justified in changing its position because the reality had changed. 600 people had died while trying to gain asylum in Australia by travelling here by boat. The principle is sound, when a law causes significant harm, it is quite reasonable to review the law. God made a law that had the potential to lead to a situation where “there would not be any poor person among you[vii]”. This would be the result of a system of Jubilee and Sabbatical years, in which poverty would not entrench itself[viii]. Every seven years all debts would be cancelled[ix] and poor people who sold themselves into slavery would go free, in the Jubilee they would regain ownership of any property they sold.

The Torah makes it clear that the blessed state of a poverty free society is conditional on obedience of the law[x]. This ambitious scheme was dependent on people transcending their natural self-interest. Some Twelve hundred years later, it became clear that the result of the law was to harm the very people it sought to help. The sage Hillel observed that in the lead up to the Sabbatical year people stop lending money to each other. He found a way around the law, essentially allowing lenders to transfer their loans to the court[xi].   

The application of the principle of changed circumstances to laws about Asylum seekers is less straight forward. In both cases well-intentioned laws are confronted with reality tests and found wanting. However, in the case of loans, the law was a direct and unavoidable cause of hardship. There was no other option but to give up the idealistic law. In the case of Asylum seekers, it could be argued that there is another option; we can choose to allow people to come here by plane which apparently is half the cost that they are charged by the operators of these boats. Others would argue that this is not viable as there are simply far more people seeking to come to Australia than it could accommodate.

Justice

More broadly we are meant to see our assistance to those in needs not as charity but as an act of justice[xii]. The Torah states that if a poor person will cry out to God because he cannot get a loan in the lead up to the seventh year[xiii], this will be considered a sin for the person refusing to lend him money[xiv]. This is because the person who has the ability to give is like a king’s bursar, entrusted by the king to distribute funds. When the poor person cries out it is like a citizen complaining to the king about the bursar withholding funds that the king had allocated for him[xv].  It has also been taught that the reason that one person is poor is order to create an opportunity for another to have the merit of providing for him/her[xvi]. Our decision to share our resources with an individual knocking on our door, either of our house, our embassy or in a leaky boat needs to be informed by the knowledge that ultimately all our wealth is not absolutely ours but has been given to us in trust, perhaps to share with that exact needy person.

Further Considerations

On one hand there is something beautiful about the way no expense is spared when someone is in trouble, such as some adventurer in a row boat on the high seas who lost her paddle. Yet, questions about equitable use of limited public funds sometimes need to be asked. Questions also need to be asked about the justice of treating some people harshly in order to deter other people from risking their lives. Australia will be bringing in plain packaging for cigarettes to discourage smoking, it could be argued that if we applied the same logic being used in the asylum seeker debate to smokers, we would be locking them up to help deter others from smoking. 

There is more that can be said about all this. We are taught, it is not for you to complete the work, but you are not free to desist from it. 

Closing with hope that fewer people have the need to flee their home countries, and that wise, compassionate and equitable response are found to respond to those who choose to flee or migrate for whatever reason. Until then, let us never lose sight of humanity, both our own and those of all our fellow humans. 

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[i] Deuteronomy 13:9

[ii] Deuteronomy 19:13

[iii] Deuteronomy 15:7

[iv] Exodus 23:3, “and the poor, you should not be glorify in his (legal) fight”.

[v] Deuteronomy 15:9

[vi] R. Shmelkeh of Nikolsburg, a variation of this also appears in Yalkut Hagershuni that reinterprets the phase in genesis 18:20 about the city of Sodom, “their sin is very grievance” which literally is understood as the words of God about the inhabitants of Sodom, but could also be interpreted as the words of the Sodomites about poor visitors to their city which justified their inhospitable practices. Both cited in Nachshoni, Y., (1989) Studies in the Weekly Parshah, Mesorah Publications, Brooklyn New York,  p.1280

[vii] Deuteronomy 15:4

[viii] Chizkuni based on the Bchor Shor

[ix] Deuteronomy 15:2, this idealistic conception of the cancelation of debts is hard to reconcile with the restriction of this amnesty only to Jews. One more practical explanation of the law by Chizkuni ties it to the ability to pay in normal years by selling crops. Jewish farmers were forbidden to sell crops in the Sabbatical year and therefore did not have the ability to pay. Non-Jewish farmers were not obligated to leave their land fallow which meant that they could pay their debts. According to this explanation Jewish craftsmen should have to pay, while non-Jewish unemployed people, especially farm hands who might find work on Jewish farms that would now be directly impacted by the Sabbatical year should be freed from their debts. This is not the case. Perhaps the counter argument would be that the law is formulated according to the majority. What I like about this argument is that it implies a rejection of discrimination by seeking a technical justification. Of course it would suit me better if the law treated both Jews and non-Jews equally.

[x] Deuteronomy 15:5

[xi] Sifrei, the technical fix interprets the words “do not press your brother for payment” as applying only to a direct transaction between the lender and “his brother”, it does not explicitly restrict the court from collecting debts, so by transferring the loan to the court collection becomes permissible.

[xii] This point is discussed by the Lubavitcher Rebbe in Likutei Sichot, based on the Hebrew word for giving to the poor being Tzedakah which is related to the word Tzedek/justice.

[xiii] During the 7^th year all loans were cancelled in Biblical times. This led lenders to be reluctant to lend as the year approached.

[xiv] Deuteronomy 15:9

[xv] Michca Belulah

[xvi] Ohr Hachayim on 15:7

Prioritising People Over Engaging God – Hospitality and Pleading for Sodom Vayera 1 5771

Putting God on hold for a person?!

“If only they would leave me and keep my Torah”[1] , says God. While this could be explained as being almost a trick in that keeping the Torah would lead people right back to God, it can surely be understood to be about God being more interested in the way we treat each other and our living by the Torah's teachings than our show of devotion to Him. An uncontested variation of this can be seen in Abraham's running out to greet guests in middle of an appearance to him by God. According to one reading of it he says to God, “God, if I find favour in your eyes, do not leave your servant[2]” while he attends to his guests. This is because “Hospitality to guests is greater than receiving the Shechina/divine presence”[3].  Of course this is God's will, so it is not really putting people ahead of God but it does suggest that in compassion vs. religiosity, the divine will would put a high priority on the compassion side of the argument.

Hassling God

Abraham's bargaining with God about Sodom is another example of the appropriateness of putting people first. After God has told Abraham of his intention to destroy the wicked cities of Sodom and Amorah (I never understood, why the Hebrew Amora become Gemorah in English), Abraham pleads, argues and bargains with God about saving the city. “Would you destroy the righteous with the wicked[4]? Abraham, makes his request five times and speaks 93 words to try to save the city. In contrast the shortest prayer in the Torah is by Moses on behalf of his sister where he speak 4 words “Please, heal her please”. Abraham's reaction is contrasted favourably in the commentaries with Noah's who simply did as God instructed and did not argue or plead for his generation. It is Noah's failure to pray is seen so critically, that the flood is referred to as the waters of Noah[5].

Looking past the person you are talking to

One of the awkward things about networking events or even stand around social occasions is when you are talking to someone and they are looking past you to see who else is around that might  be more interesting. I wonder how similar that is to Abraham looking up at the visitors (“and he lifted his eyes and saw behold three men are standing upon him[6]”) and then runs off toward them, leaving God standing there.

Standing over him?

We might suggest that this is entirely different, because it says “they were standing upon him”, its a bit like being fully present in a conversation but then there is someone on a lower rung of the the social ladder who is hovering almost desperate for your ear or attention. This might be a reasonable parallel, although the meaning of “standing upon him” seems not to mean standing close to him because he runs toward them! Standing upon him could mean that Abraham realised that they were standing there for Abraham's needs, as visitors turned out to be Angels, Raphael to heal Abraham, another to bring the news that he and Sarah will have a son, and a 3^rd on his way to destroy the wicked city of Sodom, but paying his respect to Abraham by delaying his mission until God discusses it with Abraham first[7]. 

Been and Gone
An alternative explanation by Rashi of the standing upon him and running, is that they first were standing close, but then saw him busy with bandages so the walked away as not to trouble him, at that point he got up and ran after his prospective guests in his eagerness to offer them hospitality. 

A good tactic by the visitors. I used a similar tactic with one of my quite prickly Lecturers at Yeshivah[8]. If I needed to ask him something, I could usually wait for ages while he happily continued with whoever was there before me. So I would stand around for two minutes and then pretend to lose interest or patience and walk away, as soon as I did, he would call me.

More, importantly, Rashi makes a beautiful point about Abraham's compassion, by noting the repetition of the words Vayar and he saw. The first time he merely saw them, but the second time he really looked and understood their hesitation which motivated him to persist in his efforts to offer them hospitality.   

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[1]    Yerushalmi, Hagiga 1:7, quoted in Insights: A Talmudic Treasury.

[2]    Genesis 18:3, following Rashi's 2^nd interpretation.

[3]    Talmud, Shabbat 127a.

[4]    Genesis 18:23

[5]    In defence of Noah, there is a midrash that says that many of the righteous people prayed for the generation and died, leaving Noah as the only righteous one. Also, in Noah's case there was no suggestion by God of openness (“an opening of a door) to discussion, the flood was going to happen, but in the case of Abraham God decision is more tentative. 

[6]    Genesis 18:2.

[7]    Ohr Hachayim.

[8]    An institution of Torah study for young men.