In this article, Dr. Alan Morinis discusses the value of kavod/honor and the importance of respecting the stranger.
The primary Jewish value of kavod [honor, respect] is sorely lacking in public discourse these days. Disrespect flies in all directions. In the Jewish view, all people are deserving of kavod because the Torah is so clear in saying that human beings are made b’tzelem Elohim [in God’s image] (Genesis/Bereishit 1:26). When we honor people, we are honoring the divine through the image in which people are made. “Beloved is humankind, who was created in God’s image” (Pirkei Avot 3:14).
The converse is also true, of course. When we disrespect others, we are insulting not only the individual but the One who fashioned the person. We learn that lesson from a story in the Talmud about Rabbi Elazar, who was riding along on his donkey one day when he happened upon a man who greeted him, saying, “Greetings, Rebbe.” Rabbi Elazar did not respond in kind. Rather, he said: “Empty one! Are all the people of your town as ugly as you?” The man shot back: “I don’t know, but you should go to the Craftsman who made me and tell Him how ugly is the vessel that he made” (Babylonian Talmud, Ta’anit 20a-b). That retort made Rabbi Elazar realize how disrespectful he had been, and he begged forgiveness.
Of course, the man whom Rabbi Elazar insulted was a stranger to him, and that adds an additional level of offense to his behavior, since it is a primary Jewish mandate to respect the stranger. Respect? Actually, we are commanded to “love” the stranger. In the book of Leviticus/Vayikra (19:34) the verse states: “The stranger who sojourns with you shall be as a native from among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. I am the Lord, your God.”
If we are commanded to love the stranger, how much more obvious and imperative is it that we respect the stranger, and, indeed, the Torah commands us in this very thing: “You shall not taunt or oppress a stranger.” Here, too, the same reason is given to explain why this is such an important behavioral rule for us to follow: “for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Shemot/Exodus 22:20-21).
The commandment to be very careful about how we treat strangers is actually mentioned 36 times in the Torah, which is more than any other commandment. Some Talmudic sages find it mentioned in forty-six places (Baba Metzia 59b). In fact, so important is the treatment of the stranger that it is not the focus of one mitzvah, but four of the 613 commandments:
53 To love the stranger
54 Not to wrong the stranger in speech
55 Not to wrong the stranger in buying or selling
257 Not to pervert the judgment of strangers
The language of the Torah enjoins against “ill-treatment” of the stranger and “oppression” of the stranger. The sages wondered about the difference between these two forms of mistreatment and concluded that “oppression” referred to taking advantage of the stranger by robbery or overcharging (i.e., in monetary matters) while “ill-treatment” took place through verbal abuse. And of these two, which was the worse offence? Verbal abuse is more severe. Why? In the Talmud, Rabbi Eleazar answers by saying that one type of abuse affects the person, the other only his money. And Rabbi Shmuel bar Nahmani explains that for one of these, restoration is possible, but not for the other.
When it comes to the treatment of strangers, acting with respect is more important even than acting justly.
Mistrust, or even hatred, of those who are different from ourselves is an ancient passion. Indeed, when we lived in tribes and foraged food, there was good reason to fear and reject the stranger. The civilizing influence of the Torah came to counter that deep instinct at a time when we no longer lived in a way that warranted that fear. But the Torah goes far beyond saying that mistrusting the stranger is anachronistic. It says over and over that the reason we must welcome the stranger and treat him or her with full dignity and justice is because we ourselves were once in that very position. We are being told to remember how it felt for us to endure the weakness and loneliness that the stranger and the refugee experience, and to identify with that experience, and to be the source of succor and support, just as we would have wanted when we were the ones on the outside, hoping to get in.
History has made of the Jews the archetypal stranger, the icon of otherness. And yet our generation enjoys an unprecedented degree of acceptance compared to only a decades ago when Jews were banned from country clubs, neighborhoods, law and medical schools, and public office. Compare that to the present situation, well represented in the recent American presidential election, when the one thing that was absolutely certain was that no matter which candidate won, there would be a Jewish son-in-law attached to the White House.
Once we have become insiders, accepted and comfortable, we are very liable to forget. The Torah hammers home the point so that will not happen. You know the soul of the stranger, it says. Remember! And from that inner place show respect and do good to that person at their time of dislocation and need. They may not look like you or sound like you or dress like you, but they deserve your respect because they are made in My image, just like you. And as I did not forget you in your hour of need, you cannot forget them.