blogs/rabbi-huberman

The Declining Mitzvah of Welcoming Strangers 

Recently, a photo which originated from Israel was shared with me of a family of six visiting their grandmother at her Tel Aviv apartment.

It depicted a number of adults and young people sitting on a couch, on either side of their Savtah, but no one was actually speaking with her.

As their grandmother sat staring at the floor, her daughter, husband and grandchildren were on their iPhones, texting friends, checking their emails and playing video games.

And the caption under the photo,  published in one of Israel's newspapers was, "and they were there to visit Grandma."

I remember a conference I attended a few years ago, where a group of progressive Jewish leaders were discussing how to make Judaism friendlier.

Organizers brought in experts from the Christian community to talk about how their congregations make newcomers feel more welcome, and ultimately encourage them to join the church.

In the aftermath of that presentation, Jewish professionals were asked to comment, and many had innovative ideas on how to encourage more meaningful contact with frustrated, disenfranchised and unaffiliated Jews.

"We should use Facebook more," someone suggested. "We should make services shorter, or serve brunch before or during Shabbat services," added another.

Amidst the conversation, I recall an Orthodox rabbi, sitting at the back of the room, raising his hand and suggesting.

"Why don't we encourage people to invite others to their home for Shabbat?  Or why don't people arrange to take a nice walk on the Sabbath -- and invite a newcomer with them?

And I recall the moderator, looking up blankly at the Rabbi, and continuing the discussion with barely an acknowledgement.

I mention this, as I mourn just a bit, the deterioration of one of Judaism's most central commandments: Hachnasat Orchim, welcoming the stranger. 

The concept is central to this week's Torah portion titled Chayei Sarah (Sarah's lifetime,) which recounts how Judaism was transmitted from Sarah and Abraham to future generations.

It came down to Hachnasat Orchim.

Today, we live busy lives.  We face many pressures. So, perhaps it is natural that when the end of the week comes, we can barely squeeze in time for ourselves and our families to have dinner, never mind invite someone to our table.

In this week's Torah portion, Abraham tells his chief of staff, Eliezer to travel north, and find a bride for his son Isaac.  Eliezer assembles a caravan and travels to Abraham's ancestral home.

Before Eliezer leaves, Abraham establishes a sign which will help Eliezer identify Isaac's future wife.  Abraham tells his servant that the right woman will make herself known by exuding uncommon hospitality.  Not only will she offer Eliezer water at the well, but she will also volunteer to provide refreshment to Eliezer's camels.

The theme of hospitality or welcoming the guest is central to the Torah. In last week's Torah reading when three travelers - angels - appeared at Abraham and Sarah's tent, Sarah immediately began preparing a sumptuous meal.

The Midrash, our collection of ancient accounts and legends, recounts that while Sarah lived, a mysterious light burned continually in her tent. When she died, that light went out.

But when Eliezer returned to camp, accompanied by Rebecca, and Judaism's "second matriarch" entered Sarah's vacant tent, that light began to shine anew.  

That was the light of Hachnasat Orchim; the light of empathy and care; the light of hospitality; the light where we are inspired to ask, "What can I do for you" rather than "what can you do for me."

Our Sages teach that when we invite someone for dinner, and they thank us, the correct response is not "it was no problem, we made plenty," but rather, "thank you.  It was so great to having you. Please come again."

The great Rabbi Shammai taught that a guest should never feel that they are imposing. "Greet each person with a cheerful expression," he wrote.   Better, teaches our tradition, to offer a guest a little with a gracious tone than large portions served grudgingly.

Our Passover Seder begins with the words  "Let all who are in need come and eat!"  Perhaps, the Haggadah is not talking as much about physical hunger, but rather the pangs of spiritual loneliness.

And maybe, just maybe, if we addressed that,  by inviting more people to our table, and taking a Shabbat walk together, maybe a few more unaffiliated Jews would be inclined to join this ancient religion -- founded on love, hospitality and the welcoming of guests.

Indeed, the future of Judaism will likely be determined less by shorter services, the use of music, or more English, and more through the connections we make with newcomers searching for a sense of connection.

Let us remember Sarah, and the light she passed to Rebecca, and the importance of Hachnasat Orchim.

Rather than isolate ourselves within familiar circles, let us open our doors just a little bit wider - as individuals, as communities and even as countries.

As my Orthodox teacher suggested on that day, the road to a spiritual life is really not that complicated at all. 

Sometimes we just need to replace technology, consultants and fancy strategies, with the ancient value of Hachnasat Orchim; the human touch, which inspires us to welcome a guest or stranger into our house with the words:

"It's so good to see you.  You being with us makes our home complete."

Shabbat Shalom, v'kol tuv (with all goodness).

Rabbi Irwin Huberman