By: Ezra Nadav

Introduction to Part 3: Memory as Moral Responsibility

In Part 2, we explored the Torah’s radical call to love, befriend, and refuse hatred toward the stranger—even when it’s uncomfortable or counter cultural. These commandments push us beyond passive tolerance into active relationship, challenging us to expand our moral imagination and dismantle the boundaries we draw between “us” and “them.”

Now, in Part 3, we turn to the deeper question: Why must we do this? The answer lies in memory.

The Torah does not ask us to remember our suffering as a badge of victimhood, but as a source of moral clarity. It calls on us to transform pain into purpose, to build bridges rather than barriers, and to ensure that our past does not become a weapon, but a guide. True justice, it teaches, begins not with retaliation—but with remembering who we were, and choosing who we will become.

Part 3

The Power of Memory

“Always remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt; therefore, do I enjoin you to observe this commandment.” (Deuteronomy 24:22)

When God thus tells us “Always remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt; therefore, do I enjoin you to observe this commandment” God is reminding us that while we have free will and can do as we choose, it is strongly encouraged to use our past not as a weapon, but as a guide (Exodus 23:9).

God does not command us to remember our suffering simply for the sake of memory. It is not meant to be a wound we revisit with bitterness, nor a justification for vengeance. Instead, memory is meant to be a teacher, shaping how we move forward, how we treat others, and how we build a more just world (Nussbaum, 1986).

Yes, we have free will, we can choose to forget, to become hardened, to repeat the cycles of oppression that once ensnared us. But the Torah urges us toward a different choice: to let our past suffering cultivate empathy rather than resentment, justice rather than cruelty, inclusion rather than exclusion.

To remember that we were slaves in Egypt is to hold in our hearts both the pain of oppression and the joy of liberation. It is to recognize that freedom is not only a privilege but a responsibility. It means we cannot stand idly by when others suffer as we once did. It means we are called to defend the vulnerable, to welcome the outsider, to act with kindness even when the world has not been kind to us.

In this way, the Torah’s command is not just about history, it is about identity. We are shaped by our past, but we are not bound by it. The real question is not whether we will remember, but what we will do with that memory. Will we use it to perpetuate pain, or will we transform it into a force for good?

God reminds us: we always have a choice. And the highest, holiest choice is to take our own suffering and let it become the foundation for compassion, justice, and love.

A Final Challenge

So, when we, the once oppressed, oppress or exclude others because their politics don’t sit neatly within the framework of our own, we betray not only our own history but also the moral imperative placed upon us.

To have been oppressed and then to turn around and exclude others based on ideological differences is to forget the lesson of our own suffering. It is to weaponize our past rather than let it guide us toward justice and compassion. The Torah does not tell us to only love the stranger when they align with our views. It does not tell us to befriend only those who think, vote, or believe as we do. Instead, it commands us to extend dignity, justice, and inclusion even when it is difficult, even when it challenges us.

Oppression is not only physical; it is also social and ideological. The moment we draw rigid lines that define who is worthy of belonging and who is not, we risk becoming what we once despised. The same exclusionary forces that harmed us can be replicated, albeit in different forms, when we refuse to recognize the full humanity of those with whom we disagree.

This does not mean we must accept injustice or condone harmful ideologies. But there is a difference between resisting oppression and becoming oppressive ourselves. There is a difference between standing for truth and using past wounds as an excuse to shut out those we do not understand.

If we, the once-oppressed, now wield power, social, political, or otherwise, our challenge is to ensure that we use it righteously. We must ask ourselves: Are we breaking chains, or are we forging new ones? Are we seeking justice, or are we merely reversing roles, creating new outsiders to replace the old?

The Torah’s message is clear: our past suffering is not a license for exclusion but a mandate for inclusion. If we truly remember what it means to be a stranger, to be silenced, to be shut out, then we cannot, in good conscience, do the same to others. True justice does not come from mirroring the tactics of our oppressors. It comes from rising above them, forging a new path, and building a world where no one is left outside the gates.

Final Reflection: What We Owe the Stranger

Across this three-part series, we’ve journeyed through the Torah’s enduring call to remember the stranger—not just as a figure in history, but as a presence in our lives today.

In Part 1, we recognised the stranger as a mirror of our own past. We examined the danger of forgetting where we’ve come from, and how the experience of being marginalised should cultivate humility, empathy, and radical hospitality.

In Part 2, we went deeper—into the call to love the stranger, to befriend them, and even to reject hatred toward those who have wronged us. These are not easy demands. They require discipline, self-awareness, and the courage to move beyond tribalism and toward relationship.

And in Part 3, we returned to the power of memory—not as a means of clinging to pain, but as a guide for building a more just and inclusive world. Memory, rightly held, becomes a source of moral clarity: not to exclude others in turn, but to ensure that no one else is made to feel like an outsider.

The Torah’s message is clear and consistent: our history of being strangers obligates us to break cycles of exclusion, to see the divine in those who differ from us, and to lead with compassion—even when it’s difficult. Justice is not achieved by reversing roles of power, but by rising above them. And a truly ethical society is one in which no one is left outside the gates.

Shalom Aleichem

References and Bibliography

Primary Sources

The Torah:

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

Exodus 23:9 – “You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Leviticus 19:34 – “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Deuteronomy 10:19 – “You too must befriend the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Deuteronomy 23:8 – “You shall not hate an Egyptian, for you were strangers in his land.”

Deuteronomy 24:22 – “Always remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt; therefore do I enjoin you to observe this commandment.”

Commentaries and Interpretations

Talmud, Sanhedrin 37a – “Whoever saves a life, it is considered as if they saved an entire world.”

Rashi’s Commentary on Exodus and Leviticus – Insights on the treatment of the stranger.

Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings and Wars 10:12 – On the ethical treatment of strangers.

The Ethics of the Fathers (Pirkei Avot) – “Do not judge your fellow until you have stood in their place.”

Academic and Theological Sources

Berman, J., 2008. Created Equal: How the Bible Broke with Ancient Political Thought. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Heschel, A.J., 1962. The Prophets. New York: Harper & Row.

Sacks, J., 2002. The Dignity of Difference: How to Avoid the Clash of Civilizations. London: Bloomsbury.

Greenberg, I., 2004. For the Sake of Heaven and Earth: The New Encounter Between Judaism and Christianity. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society.

Lexical and Dictionary Sources

Cambridge Dictionary, n.d. Definition of ‘stranger’. [online] Available at: https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/stranger> 3 March 2025.

Modern Ethical and Philosophical Reflections

Levinas, E., 1969. Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority. Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press.

Nussbaum, M., 1986. The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.