At one point or another each one of us has experienced a situation of feeling uncomfortable in a place we should feel comfort. A poignant example of this is visiting our parents' homes for an extended stay. After being on our own and enjoying our independent spaces, there is often uneasiness in returning to the space in which we were raised. Our rooms are either exactly the same (which can be a bit weird), or just the opposite-they have been transformed into offices, gyms, or are now the property of a sibling (which tends to touch a nerve). It feels like home, we call it home, and yet we are also guests. A strange feeling, indeed.
We pick up our story after the Israelites escape slavery with Yitro, Moses' father-in-law, bringing Moses' family to him in the desert after hearing about the miracles that occurred in Egypt. What fascinates me about the beginning of the Yitro episode is the Torah's need to not only restate the names of Moses' children, but their etymologies as well. In Sh'mot 2:22 we first learn of Moses' eldest son, Gershom. There the Torah explains that Moses and Zipporah gave their son the name Gershom because Moses was, "a stranger in a strange land." The Torah then offers us a midrash on itself. The name Gershom is comprised of two Hebrew words; ger - stranger, and sham - there (another place, i.e., not home). While the name historically fits Moses' story - he never really having a true home - it seems a bit odd to give a person the name - Stranger. Since so much of our identities are captured in our given names, I have to ask: What would it mean to travel through this world with the name 'Stranger'? What would it feel like to introduce yourself to an outsider by saying, "my name is Stranger"? Moreover, is it possible to experience the world as a visitor and also have many places you consider home?
This situation is not all that uncommon in the Jewish community. When we visit new synagogues we immediately assume the role of stranger, and are introduced as such. Even though, in theory, every Jewish institution is a home to Jews, one cannot escape that initial discomfort of feeling out of place. In fact, even when we are in our own communities and institutions we can experience that sense of discomfort in the midst of comfort. The prayers are in a language we may not understand, the structure of the davvening may not always speak to us, and one can easily get lost in the large groups of synagogue goers. Even in a place we call home, it is possible to feel like a guest.
In Mishnat Rebbe Eliezer (ancient midrash ascribed to Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus) the question is asked: What is it we are to learn from the etymology of Gershom's name? The midrash explains that by Moses calling his son 'stranger in a strange land' we learn that embracing our status as 'stranger' is extremely valuable. Why? Three of Judaism's preeminent ancient leaders referred to themselves in Tanakh with this terminology. Abraham called himself a ger when he was buying a gravesite for his wife Sarah (Genesis 23:4); Moses, in his initial escape from Egypt to Midian, fearful for his life, calls himself a ger; and David does so twice during precarious moments in the Psalms (39:13, 119:19). Abraham, Moses, and David did not hide from those moments when they probably felt most insecure. By calling themselves 'strangers' they sought to embrace situations that likely made them terribly uncomfortable.
A central tenet of the Torah is that we are all visitors on God's earth. Our homes, our possessions, and our places of worship, while essential and valuable, are simply resources to help us appreciate the bigger picture-a relationship with the true owner, God. When we feel discomfort in synagogue, our own or as visitors in another, we should not try to escape; rather we ought to continue our larger goal to connect. It takes hard work to embrace discomfort, to embrace our status as strangers at home, but to simply run away from the struggle and longing to connect means only that we are frightened to belong.
May we all continue to find strength in Gershom's name. The courage to walk through this world as Jews who strive to connect to community and God --the strength that allows us to be called a stranger in any land, even our own.
Shabbat Shalom