"Mishpatim — Part V — Compassion as the Heart of Justice"

5.1 — The Stranger Is You

Why the Torah repeats the command to protect the stranger

Parshas Mishpatim contains one of the most repeated moral commands in the Torah: the obligation to protect the stranger. The Torah does not present this as an abstract humanitarian ideal or a general principle of kindness. Instead, it anchors the command in memory—specifically, the national memory of Egypt.

The Torah states:

שמות כ״ג:ט׳
“וְגֵר לֹא תִלְחָץ, וְאַתֶּם יְדַעְתֶּם אֶת־נֶפֶשׁ הַגֵּר, כִּי גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם.”
“And you shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, because you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

This command does not appeal to philosophy or political theory. It appeals to memory. You know what it feels like. You remember the humiliation, the vulnerability, the uncertainty. That memory must shape your conduct.

The stranger is not “other.” The stranger is you.

Moral Memory as the Foundation of Ethics

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks often emphasized that the Torah is a religion of memory. Again and again, the Torah commands: remember the Exodus, remember Amalek, remember Sinai, remember the desert. But the memory of Egypt carries a special ethical function.

It is not only a memory of suffering. It is a memory that creates responsibility.

• You were powerless—so do not abuse power.
• You were outsiders—so do not exclude the vulnerable.
• You were strangers—so build a society where strangers are protected.

For Rabbi Sacks, this is the birth of moral consciousness. A free society is not built only on law or power. It is built on memory—specifically, the memory of suffering that creates empathy.

The Torah therefore repeats the command regarding the stranger more than almost any other social command. A society that forgets its own vulnerability becomes cruel. A society that remembers becomes compassionate.

Rashi: Do Not Reproach Another with Your Own Flaw

Rashi explains the phrase “כִּי גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם” in a practical, psychological way. The Torah is not merely reminding the people of history. It is warning them against a common moral failure.

A person often insults another precisely for the flaw he himself possesses. The former stranger becomes the new oppressor. The victim becomes the aggressor. The weak, once strong, forget their own past.

Rashi teaches that the Torah is preventing this moral reversal.

• You know the pain of being different.
• You know the humiliation of being powerless.
• Therefore, you have no excuse for causing that pain to another.

Memory becomes a moral restraint. It prevents the oppressed from becoming the oppressor.

The Stranger as a Test of Covenant

In a covenantal society, morality is not measured only by how people treat their equals. It is measured by how they treat those with no protection, no influence, and no status.

The stranger represents the one who stands outside the natural circles of protection that most people take for granted. He is the person without a strong family network, without social status, without economic security, and without a voice in the centers of power. He may be new to the land, unfamiliar with the language, or simply lacking the influence that shields others from harm. The Torah focuses on this figure because he exposes the true moral character of a society: when someone has no tribe to defend him, no wealth to protect him, and no reputation to rely on, only the justice and compassion of the community stand between him and exploitation.

How a society treats such a person reveals its true character.

Rabbi Sacks taught that the Torah’s revolution was to place the vulnerable at the center of moral concern. Ancient societies glorified kings, warriors, and the powerful. The Torah places the widow, the orphan, and the stranger at the heart of its legal system.

This is not sentimental compassion. It is covenantal responsibility. A people redeemed from slavery must build a society where the weak are protected.

The Danger of Moral Amnesia

History shows how easily moral memory fades. A people who once suffered can quickly forget. Success, stability, and power can erase the memory of vulnerability.

When memory fades, empathy fades with it.

• The stranger becomes a threat instead of a reminder.
• The poor become a nuisance instead of a responsibility.
• The outsider becomes an enemy instead of a moral test.

The Torah therefore commands memory as a discipline. It must be repeated, retold, and ritualized. Without conscious remembrance, societies drift toward cruelty.

Application for Today — Building a Society of Moral Memory

The command to protect the stranger is not limited to ancient agricultural societies. Every generation has its own strangers: the newcomer, the convert, the outsider, the socially isolated, the economically vulnerable.

To live this mitzvah today means transforming memory into empathy.

A practical translation of this teaching can include:

• Remembering personal moments of vulnerability and allowing them to shape how we treat others.
• Treating newcomers to a community, workplace, or school with deliberate warmth and inclusion.
• Avoiding speech or policies that humiliate or exploit those with less power.
• Building homes, institutions, and communities where the vulnerable feel protected rather than threatened.

When memory becomes moral action, society reflects the covenant. When memory is forgotten, power becomes dangerous.

The Torah’s message is simple and demanding: you once knew the soul of the stranger. Never forget what that felt like—and never become the source of that pain.

📖 Sources

• Full sources available on the Mitzvah Minute Parshas Mishpatim page under insights and commentaries.