“You shouldn’t oppress a stranger, for you know the heart of a stranger: You were strangers in Mitzrayim.” (Shemos 23:9)
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his commandment speaks of the power and significance of empathy. Yet the need for empathy surely extends way beyond strangers. It applies to marriage, parents and children, neighbors, colleagues, etc. Empathy’s essential to human interaction. Why then invoke it specifically about strangers? The answer is that empathy’s strongest in groups where people identify with each other. The stronger the bond within the group, the sharper the suspicion and fear of those outside the group. It’s relatively easy to “love your neighbor as yourself.” It’s very hard to love, or even feel empathy for a stranger. (Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, Covenant & Conversation)
It was a regular Thursday morning in the office. Then one of the editors called out, “Agam Berger was just released.” The staff in the office froze for a moment, then gathered around my coworker’s computer.
“That’s Agam bat Merav,” one woman said softly. “She’s my hostage who I was davening for. I was so scared when her four other friends were released and not her. I thought the worst.” Then to her surprise and ours, she burst into tears.
Fear of the one-not-like-us is capable of disabling the empathy response. That’s why this specific command is so life-changing. It tells us to empathize with the stranger because you know what it feels like to be in his place. It’s as if Hashem is saying that your sufferings have taught you something of immense importance. You’ve been oppressed; you’ve suffered; therefore, you’ll become the people who are there to offer help when others are suffering.
Who is Agam? Who are Omer and Ohad and the Berman twins?
They’re strangers to me. If I’d met them on the street before October 7, I wouldn’t have given them anything more than a passing glance. We didn’t live the same cities, move in the same social circles, or even speak the same language. But here I was, standing in the office, sharing emotions and fears, elation and sorrow, toward this group of strangers — the hostages.
