Perhaps the most oft-repeated lesson that the Torah wants us to learn from the experience of slavery is how we ought to treat strangers. Again and again, with only minor differences in wording, the Torah says: “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings (nefesh, literally soul or self) of the stranger (ger), having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 23:9)
In the section of the Zohar called Saba D’mishpatim, two traveling sages encounter an old donkey driver who, to their astonishment, proceeds to share astonishingly profound teachings about the human soul. The old man speaks extensively of nefesh ha’ger, the soul of the ger. While in rabbinic Hebrew the word ger means convert, in biblical Hebrew it means stranger or alien, a person who is not native born. The following text is one of these teachings:
This is the story of every holy soul,
Descending into this world.
For each soul to occupy its place, where it is visible to people,
They must all dress in the souls we have discussed,
And this is how they enter the holy seed.
Zohar 2:98b
Garments — understood metaphorically — are an important topic in the Zohar, and the garments someone or something dons must match its environment. A soul residing in heavenly realms, for instance, needs different “garments” than a soul in the material world. Garments serve for both protection and communication, and become an important part of identity. In our text, the old man teaches that every soul that enters this world, whether as a spirit or a corporeal person (meaning it has entered “the holy seed”), garbs itself in nefesh ha’ger, the soul of a stranger.
For every soul, therefore, our world is a foreign country. Without exception. This means that the experience of being an outsider is fundamental to human life. It is through our “stranger soul” that we are sustained, that we learn to survive.
Keep My Jewish Learning free. In this season of freedom, help us keep Jewish connection and meaning free for everyone. Your support ensures that anyone seeking Jewish wisdom can find it here, without needing to cross the red sea (or a paywall).
The old man then shifts to talking about the garments of Torah:
The holy Blessed One writes all Her secrets in the holy Torah, where they can be found.
The Torah will reveal that secret matter, but then immediately dress the words that describe it in another garment where it is hidden and cannot be seen.
The wise have eyes everywhere, and even though the matter hides behind its garment, they can see through the garment.
At the moment when the matter is revealed, before the words hide under their garment, those whose eyes are open notice.
Then, even if it hides immediately, they do not lose sight of it.
Zohar 2:99a
Torah, too, feels vulnerable and in need of protection. She (following rabbinic tradition, the Zohar treats Torah as feminine) holds divine secrets, but mostly hides them behind protective costumes. From time to time, she will set the coverings aside and reveal her true self for a short moment, for a few words, then immediately return to costume. Learning the truth of Torah requires constant vigilance (“eyes everywhere”) and careful attention to every word of the text. It is only through such caring and diligent attention that the inner soul of a person can connect to the inner truth of Torah and experience divine intimacy.
The old man proceeds to offer an example of such a moment:
There are many places where the holy Blessed One reminds the people of the holy seed to be careful of the way they treat strangers.
But there is one place where the hidden word emerges from its case, but upon being exposed it immediately returns to its case and is covered there.
After warning to care for the stranger in all those other places, the word emerges from its case and is revealed in the verse: “… you know the stranger’s soul…” (Exodus 23:9)
But then, it immediately returns to its case, covers itself in its garments and is hidden in the words “… for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
The verse thinks that because it immediately covered itself, no one has noticed.
Yet we know that it is through the stranger’s soul that the holy soul connects with the matters of this world and is sustained by them.
Zohar 2:99a
In five words, the Torah reveals her inner truth: You are not different from the stranger. You know the soul of the stranger, nefesh ha’ger, because your own soul is a stranger in a strange land. The obligation to care for the stranger does not derive from a safe distance. The truth is not that we were once strangers, and now we are not. The truth is that we are strangers. The obligation to care for the stranger requires total identification, seeing yourself in the person before you, seeing the person’s pain as your own anguish and alienation, and responding with that level of urgency.
But the Torah worries that acknowledging this deeper truth — that your own soul is the soul of a foreigner — might be too scary for you. So she immediately backs up and cloaks that truth in another that is easier to swallow: It is not about you, it is about history. Once you were slaves in the land of Egypt, but no longer.
But maybe, on Passover, we too can learn something from the Zohar’s old man. Maybe our eyes can be opened to the idea that we are, indeed, strangers.
This piece was originally published as part of A Year of Zohar: Kabbalah for Everyone, an original series produced by My Jewish Learning and Sefaria. Sign up for the entire series here.
