Shmot, 21:20
Nationhood
Judaism is not a religion. Unlike other religions, belonging to the Jewish People is not dependent on ones faith, it is dependent on ones birth: once Jewish always Jewish. Being Jewish is passed on genetically through the maternal line. However neither is Judaism a race because it is not purely hereditary; one can convert into Judaism. So what does being Jewish mean?
Judaism is a nationality. Jews are citizens of a nation. The Jewish nation is unique because although it has a country, its country is not what makes it a nation. In many ways the Torah is to us what a country is to other nations. The Jew is a citizen of the Torah. Although our Land is integral to our lives, we do not serve our Land, We serve the Torah and need our Land to facilitate that service. Let's explore the manifestation of this idea in the parsha and then explore its meaning and implications.
Geirim: Naturalized Citizens
"Do not verbally abuse the geir (convert)..for you were geirim(foreigners) in the Land of Egypt" (Onkelos and Targum Yonatan on Shemot 21:20)
Here already we see the word Geir being used both in the sense of a convert to Judaism and as an alien in a country other than ones own. The same word is used even though a convert is a fully enfranchised member of our faith whereas we, living in Pharaoh's Egypt, were disadvantaged, enslaved, oppressed and tortured. The common denominator is Rashi's (21:20) definition of the word geir: "Wherever (in the Torah) the term geir is used, it means one who was not born in a particular country but came there from another country to live there." A geir is a foreigner.
When Yaacov, father of the Egyptian Viceroy, came to Egypt, he was clearly offered Egyptian citizenship: "The Land of Egypt is before you," said Pharaoh to him, "settle your father and your brothers in the choicest part of the Land" (Breishit 47:6). According to the Rashi above, this does not contradict Yaacov's earlier insistence that "we have come as geirim to your land". Geir does not mean an alien in the sense of one who is not a citizen of the host land; geir is one who was not born in the host land. The Jews were citizens of Egypt, but they were also geirim in that land. This is a similar idea to the American Constitutional requirement that it is not sufficient for a U.S. President to be a citizen of the USA, he or she must be born in the USA. An immigrant is always an immigrant, even in America, a geiris always a geir - at least in their own minds; and sadly often in the eyes of others too.
The Parsha of Mishpatim deals with the abuse of power by people in positions of strength or authority over others who are vulnerable. The Torah tells us that geirim are vulnerable no matter what nationalization or conversion process they have undergone. Just as immigrants feel foreign even after naturalization, so converts can feel foreign even years after conversion. Never exploit their vulnerability, never abuse or oppress them because you, deep in your national DNA, know what the feeling of that foreignness is. You know how quickly you can be reminded of your foreignness even generations after your arrival in another country.
A geir then, is not someone who has adopted a new faith but one who has become a naturalized citizen of the Jewish nation: a nation whose state is the Torah.
The Torah State: The Motherland of our Souls
How can the Torah be a state? Herein lies a fascinating, mystical idea: A Jew does not live in a world of three-dimensional space, he lives in a universe defined by a vast set of integrated, Divine ideas. We do not observe the Torah; we occupy the Torah. We define our reality not by the dimensions of space but by the five dimensions of Halachah: the three dimensions of space, the time dimension, and the dimension of right and wrong. The Torah envelops us like a land envelops its people. We protect (shemirah) the Torah because it protects us. We have sworn our allegiance to the Torah. When Hellenists and others invaded it we fought wars to protect it. When we drift away from it we find our way back home. We love it, we adore it, we revere it.
Our minds do not dominate the Torah; it dominates our minds and molds our thinking. We explore the Torah as people explore their lands, and it conquers us with its exquisite beauty and majestic landscapes of intellect and spirit. Our souls are its soul and we feel like its citizens. We cannot abandon our citizenship, but others can become citizens of the Torah. And when they do, we respect the choice they made, admire them and treat them with care and sensitivity. We welcome them into our "Land" and guide them through its wonders.
This Shabbat as you learn and reflect on ideas of the Torah think of your mind exploring and adventuring down new or familiar pathways. Notice its beauty, see things you have never seen before. Hear its sounds, the calls of its wild, the running of its brooks and the rumbling of its distant thunders. Admire the depths of its valleys and the majesty of its peaks. See the vibrancy of its color, enjoy the music of its sounds and feel the freshness of its atmosphere. It is yours: cherish it and pass it on to your children so they can share in your delight. For Judaism is not a religion and the Torah is not a set of rules. Our Torah is the space in which we live, it is the fatherland of our minds and the motherland of our souls.
