Does the World Need More Love or Justice?

We’re often taught that it’s what’s on the inside that counts, beauty is only skin deep, and we should never judge a book by its cover. But what about when there’s a disconnect between what we’re told is on the inside and what we see on the outside — when one’s actions leave something to be desired, though supposedly one’s heart is in the right place? Is what’s on the inside still what counts? This week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim, suggests otherwise, as it begins:

“These are the rules (mishpatim) that you shall set before them [the Israelites]:” (Ex. 21:1)

What follows is just that: an extensive list of specific rules governing everything from holiday observances and dietary practice to ethics in business and the treatment of animals. There’s the call to release indentured servants in the seventh year, and the designation of murder and kidnapping as capital offenses — the same punishment incurred for insulting one’s father or mother! This Torah portion famously proclaims “eye for eye, tooth for tooth” (Ex. 21:24), and calls us to take care of the widow and orphan.

All in all, there are 53 separate mishpatim, “rules,” to be followed in this week’s Torah portion, comprising a little bit of just about everything. Yet there is one rule that stands out, one that is repeated twice in this particular Torah portion and — according to the Talmud (Bava M’tzia 59b) — 36 times in the Torah overall, making it the most often mentioned commandment in all of Torah:

“You shall not wrong or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 22:20)

“You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Ex. 23:9)

Often when we cite this all-important commandment, we quote the text as it appears in Leviticus (19:34), where it is written slightly differently. There we are told: “You shall love each one [stranger] as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Yet, of the 36 times this commandment appears in the Torah, love is only mentioned this once. And it is notably absent in Parashat Mishpatim, where the rule is first introduced and repeated. “Love the stranger as yourself” is a beautiful, poetic, compelling ideal. But, ultimately, love is subjective, cannot be measured or proven, and is less effective than action in attaining social justice. You shall not oppress the stranger, is what matters most.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all loved the stranger? Of course. And this week’s Torah portion notes that ideally, our feelings should drive our actions. As the Elder of Slobodka underscores, we should be motivated to embrace the stranger by our ability “to feel and participate in [their] joy and distress ... as if these had affected [us] personally;... [to feel] their joys and sorrows with them, without any differentiation.” (Nosson Tzi Finkel of Slobodka in Torah Gems: Exodus, p. 163). Yet sometimes love and empathy elude us. And, as we know all too well, even those who profess love sometimes act contrary to it. Ultimately, it’s not what is on the inside that matters; it’s what we do, regardless of how we feel, that counts.

So we are to welcome strangers, remove obstacles to their inclusion, eliminate barriers to their joining our communities. We should not ostracize strangers, create distance between us, or maintain one safety net for those we identify as “us” and another (or none at all) for those we say are “other.” Indeed, we should not treat anyone as other at all. In our secular lives, too, our laws, our rules, and the way we structure and frame our society should support this. Regardless of how we may feel, whether or not we profess love, our actions must not oppress the stranger.

This week’s Torah portion shows us that love alone simply isn’t sufficient. It doesn’t tell us — or even suggest — that love will conquer all. What does the Torah give us? Specific and extensive rules, outlining how we are supposed to interact with others and look out for their well-being. There’s a notable absence of concern for emotion, which cannot be regulated. Punishments underscore the importance of the Torah’s specific rules and commandments, and the expectation they will be upheld. These are the ways the Torah conveys its concern for — and commitment to — creating a just, equitable, and safe society.

The American philosopher, Dr. Cornell West teaches: “Justice is what love looks like in public.” As this week’s Torah portion reminds us, we don’t get to justice by professing what we feel inside: we build a just society by legislating and enforcing the behaviors that make love tangible on the outside. We spell out love in mishpatim — in concrete rules, steps, and actions that can truly create the just society toward which we all strive.

Rabbi Stephanie M. Alexander is the senior rabbi at Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim in Charleston, SC. She is a past-president and founding member of the Charleston Area Justice Ministry, a faith-based social justice organization of 29 diverse congregations.