Seeing God in One Another: A Practice in Empathy
by Marla Aviva Bentley, RJE
Throughout the Torah, we are taught not to oppress the stranger in our communities, for we were strangers in the land of Egypt. In Parashat Mishpatim, twice we are reminded, “You shall not wrong or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exodus 22:20) and later, “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt” (Exodus 23:9). Why amid all the laws and precepts of Mishpatim is this value emphasized? And why are we being asked by God to “know the feelings of the stranger”?
Earlier in Torah, before the Israelites escaped Pharoah, and made an exodus into the wilderness, God speaks to Avram and foreshadows their enslavement, “Know well that your offspring shall be strangers in a land not theirs, and they shall be enslaved and oppressed four hundred years” (Genesis 15:13). On the surface, the commandment is clear, we should refrain from hurting the stranger because we were once strangers. We might sympathize with the plight of someone with a shared experience. “Knowing the feelings” goes beyond sympathy. I believe this commandment is emphasized in Torah so that we will learn the value of empathy.
In The Power of Vulnerability, Dr. Brené Brown talks about the differences between sympathy and empathy, and our propensity to try and fix one another when faced with a challenging situation. Brown argues that if we practice empathy rather than sympathy, we are able to relate on a human to human level without judgment, “Empathy is I’m feeling with you; sympathy is I’m feeling for you.” Brown urges us not to respond with a similar story or anecdote when faced with a difficult conversation, she notes: “Rarely can a response make something better. What makes something better is connection.”
Connection is a basic human need that can be filled when we gather together. Hillel teaches, “Do not separate yourself from the community” (Pirkei Avot 2:4). A minyan, or a gathering of ten Jewish adults, is required to say specific prayers such as Kaddish Yatom (Mourner’s Kaddish) because, during times of grief, we will take comfort in being together. Thehalachic requirement to recite Mourner’s Kaddish during Shiva (seven days) and Sh’loshim (thirty days) and the year following the death of a close loved one drives the mourner into community. And when a mourner rises from the congregation to recite Kaddish Yatom, to stand up and be seen, it forces those around the mourner to pause and recognize their grief. It provides an opportunity to connect with that person on a human to human level, with empathy. You cannot bring back their loved one, but you can listen, hold space, and allow them to feel known.
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks teaches in Seven Features of Jewish Ethics, “Judaism was the first moral system to place interpersonal love at the centre of the moral life: love of God “with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deut. 6:5), love of “your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18) and love of the stranger because “you know what it feels like to be a stranger” (Ex. 23:9)... All moral systems have at their heart a principle of justice, or reciprocal altruism: do as you would be done by. But love is something different and more demanding.” We are taught to love the stranger, the other, the one or ones with whom we do not understand or relate.
Some have called those with a chronic condition as having an invisible disability. It is a disability hidden from the outside world but felt nonetheless by the individual daily. Those of us with these invisible disabilities might appear to be strong, healthy, and capable, and all of those characteristics might be applicable sometimes. While our exterior may only show a hint of what is underneath, on the inside, there is a constant hum of thoughts, actions, and decisions that allows our bodies the opportunity to function. The Invisible Disabilities Association defines invisible disability as “symptoms such as debilitating pain, fatigue, dizziness, cognitive dysfunctions, brain injuries, learning differences and mental health disorders, as well as hearing and vision impairments. These are not always obvious to the onlooker, but can sometimes or always limit daily activities, range from mild challenges to severe limitations, and vary from person to person”.
For those of us with multiple chronic conditions, our daily lives can feel like a balancing act. Our bodies are both a sacred gift and the source of our utmost challenge. What works one day, doesn’t work the next. The foods that nourish most people, might inflame and ravage others. The air outside which might refresh, calm, and bring a sense of expansiveness, can also cause a tightening in one’s chest when filled with pollen, mold, or smoke. Exercise which allows our bodies to move with strength and agility, can also cause a flare which sends our bodies into stasis. The same foods which might cause high blood sugar one moment, are also the source of relief from a devastating low. We exist in a world of contradictions and struggle to find what works so that we can just be.
In Birchot HaShachar (the morning blessings), two prayers are juxtaposed for our contemplation: Asher Yatzar (Who Created) and Elohai N’shamah (My God, The Soul). Asher Yatzar begins by expressing gratitude to God for our bodies, how they function, and if they were not to anymore, how “it would be impossible to endure and stand before You”. Elohai N’shamah thanks God for imbuing within us a soul that is “pure,” one God has “shaped,” and “breathed into.” I have often pondered the wisdom of our rabbis for placing these prayers next to one other. Do I have to thank God that my body is working as it should in order to have gratitude for my soul? Must my physical body be in a state of wholeness for my soul to be as well?
So often those with disabilities, both seen and unseen, feel othered, as if they are strangers. Well-meaning people, even close family and friends don’t always know how to respond to a disabled person, especially when they are having a difficult moment. It feels as if everyone in our society seems to be obsessed with wellness, and most are all too quick to offer a random solution to what they see as the problem: “Try this diet,” “Have you heard of this vitamin? Essential oil? New technique? I am sure it will help!” Living with multiple chronic conditions is a constant challenge. When I share with a friend or family member what I am going through, I don’t need or want a solution, just someone to bear witness to my life, to be with me, to see me as B’tzelem Elohim (made in God’s image), imperfectly perfect just as I am.
Each day I make a series of choices, most well thought out from years of practice, to help my body function as best as it can be. I pray the words of Asher Yatzar and focus on the parts of me that I am grateful are functioning as best as they can in that moment. I try to be present, to breathe in the pure soul of Elohai N’shamah, and find gratitude that I can control the things I can control: my choices, and my reactions, and allow myself the freedom to let go of what I can’t control: how my body responds.
Empathy requires authentic listening, vulnerability, and patience, it is the foundation of truly understanding those who are different. When we actively listen, refrain from judgment, and see each other for our truest selves, we can be known, that is empathy and empathy leads to belonging. I am grateful for the true understanding of my family and friends. I am thankful for God's commandments of the Israelites to the strangers amongst them, to those whose circumstances are different, who are othered, that they deserve compassion and empathy. To the strangers among us, I see you.
Marla Aviva Bentley, RJE (she/her), is an educator, innovator, musician, and Jewish thinker. She serves Congregation Etz Chaim of DuPage County as the Director of Lifelong Learning & Music and is a Past President of the Guild of Temple Musicians. Marla Aviva is a graduate of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion with an Executive MA in Jewish Education. She enjoys reading, being in nature, and spending time with her husband and children.
