You have probably heard the story of the German transatlantic ocean
liner, the St. Louis, which sailed from Hamburg, Germany for Havana, Cuba on
May 13, 1939. Almost all of the 937
passengers were Jews, most of them German citizens. After 28 passengers were admitted entry into
Havana, the rest were not allowed to disembark in Cuba or anywhere else. The St. Louis sailed back to Europe, where
most of the passengers were taken in by European nations other than
Germany. Nearly 30% — 255 - of the returnees
died during the war. Most of them were
victims of the Holocaust.
You may not have heard of another ship that attempted a similar journey
in the following year. On August 9, 1940, the SS Quanza sailed from Lisbon,
Portugal, carrying more than 300 passengers, most of whom were Jewish. Other
than the 66 American citizens on board, each passenger held a visa issued by
Portuguese diplomat Aristides de Sousa Mendes.
When the ship arrived in New York ten days later, 196 passengers
disembarked, but 121 were not allowed to leave the ship. The Quanza then set sail for its next
destination, Vera Cruz, Mexico, where 35 people were granted entry. The remaining
86 passengers, mostly Jews from Belgium, were told, against their
expectations, that they would be returning to Europe.
On the way back, the Quanza stopped in Hampton Roads, Virginia to
refuel.
And at that point, the ship’s story took an unexpected turn.
One of the passengers contacted a business associate in New York City,
who arranged for assistance from two Jewish attorneys in Virginia. They quickly sued the shipping company for
breach of contract.
And then, American Jewish leaders heard of the special case of the
Quanza. Rabbi Stephen S. Wise of the
World Jewish Congress, and Cecilia Razovsky of the National Council of Jewish
Women pressed the government to intervene to save the remaining refugees. Their
pleas caught the ear of First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt.
When the St. Louis had been forced to turn back a year earlier, Eleanor
Roosevelt had vowed that such a travesty would not happen again.
She asserted, in conversations with her husband, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt,
that the men, women and children aboard the Quanza were “future patriotic
Americans,” and not, as the State Department labeled them, “undesirables.” Nor, she declared, were they potential Nazi spies or
Communist sympathizers.
President Roosevelt ordered that the refugees on the SS Quanza could
remain in the United States. He took this
step over the strong objections of his assistant Secretary
of State, Breckinridge Long. As a result of this momentary demonstration of kindness and generosity,
Long intensified efforts to halt all immigration. He sent a message to the
president: “Undesirables are coming into this country. We have to close
immigration.” His view mirrored the
sentiments of many American citizens at the time.
Unfortunately, President Roosevelt agreed. By mid-1941, wartime refugees were virtually barred from entering the
United States.
Columnist Bret Stephens recently recounted the story of his grandmother
and mother, who were living as refugees in Europe after surviving harrowing
experiences during World War II. They went to a local grocery store, where
their accent prompted the grocer to say, “Why don’t you people go back where
you came from?” The Displaced Persons
act, signed by President Harry S. Truman in June of 1948, gave Bret Stephens’
family and many others hope for a new life.
Stephens’ mother and grandmother arrived in the United States in
1950.
Perhaps some of us here this morning are the descendants of Jews who
immigrated to the United States in the early 20th Century, many of whom were
allowed to live here despite being despised by some American immigration
officials, government leaders and citizens who were suspicious of anyone and
anything foreign. And there were, of
course, groups that sprang up later, just before World War II, that intensified
anti-immigrant and anti-Semitic sentiments.
What made Eleanor Roosevelt work on behalf of these refugees? What made President Truman open the entry
doors of the United States to offer thousands of stateless people a new
home? Eleanor Roosevelt’s and President
Truman’s efforts to further civil rights in the United States and human rights
around the world demonstrated a desire to approach other members of the human
family based on empathy.
Jamil Zaki, a psychologist at Stanford University, explored and
explained empathy in his new book: THE WAR FOR KINDNESS: BUILDING EMPATHY IN A
FRACTURED WORLD.
He noted that most people understand empathy as more or less a feeling
in itself, as in the phrase, “I feel your pain.”
Zaki said that empathy is much more. It involves identifying what others
feel, sharing their emotions, and, finally, wishing to improve the experiences
of fellow human beings.
When people drift apart, Zaki said, empathy is the mental superpower
that can bring us back together. Even when the distance between us seems too
difficult to bridge, he encourages us to overcome the obstacles in our way,
because, in his words, “humans are world-champion collaborators.” Our lives are about connection and
relationship, and meaningful ties with others make us feel more complete,
supported and loved.
One of the more poignant examples which Zaki presented about the power
of empathy was the story of Tony McAleer, a Canadian citizen whose neo-Nazi
ideology led him to develop an automated phone system where callers could hear
hate messages about Jews, blacks and native Canadians. As his hatred grew, Tony cut ties from
Jewish and Asian friends from childhood.
Zaki discovered in his research that boundaries between insiders and
perceived outsiders destroy every type of empathy scientists can measure. Ignoring the emotions of outsiders can make
it easier to oppress and discriminate against them. Moreover, people tend to define human beings
whom they hate as less evolved. With
such attitudes, empathy is impossible.
Tony McAleer had to answer in court for his extremist hate activities
just at the time that he became a father.
At first, being a father mellowed him but didn’t change his beliefs. He realized, though, that he needed to seek
help to put his life back together. One of his life coaches, Dov, was
Jewish. Tony was amazed that Dov would
listen to him without criticism and judgment.
He felt accepted as a human being.
Tony finally realized that his hatred did not define who he was. And if this Jewish man so readily accepted
him, Tony wondered how could he hate Jews - or anyone, for that matter. As part of his healing process, Tony visited
a Vancouver synagogue which he had vandalized in the past in order to confess
his wrongdoing and to sit and listen to members of the congregation.
Jamil Zaki’s concluding remark about Tony’s case was that “hatred buries
empathy, but does not kill it.” Tony
eventually became a partner in the organization “Life After Hate,” which seeks
to help people leave hate groups, especially those that espouse white
supremacy.
In his book, Jamil Zaki praised the human capacity to create communities
where kindness and caring are built in.
He described how professionals at hospitals, clinics, and other health
care facilities do what they can to treat those whom they serve with concern,
support and kindness.
Zaki explained that physicians, medical staff, and caregivers may
experience “compassion fatigue” in certain situations when they are able
outwardly to do what is needed, but,
inside, they feel overwhelmed by the specific challenges involved in
attempting to bring healing and hope to patients and their families. In those times, they may have to take a few
emotional steps back so that they can be fully present for the people whom they
know they are required to serve with competence and dedication.
“Compassion fatigue” can happen in many contexts, including within
families, workplaces, and in our efforts to sustain treasured friendships.
Our Torah reading in Genesis Chapter 21 presents a situation that could
illustrate “compassion fatigue” especially for God and for Abraham as the
conflict between Sarah and her maidservant Hagar intensified.
The household strife began a few chapters earlier when Sarah felt
“lowered in the esteem” of Hagar when Hagar was carrying Abraham’s first
child. Sarah banished Hagar, but after
journeying some distance from home, an angel from God assured Hagar that her
son to be born would become a great nation.
Ishmael was born soon after Hagar returned home.
The strife resurfaced when, as we will read today in Genesis 21, Ishmael
treated his half-brother Isaac with little respect. Sarah demanded, this time, that both Hagar
and Ishmael leave their presence for good.
Abraham was perplexed, and sought God’s counsel. God told Abraham to do what Sarah asked, but
God also let Abraham know, for the first time, that a great nation would emerge
from his son Ishmael, as well as for his son by Sarah, Isaac.
It is unclear whether or not Sarah knew that Abraham prepared water for
Hagar and Ishmael to take with them on their journey.
The water was not the full extent of the assistance that the banished
mother and son received. When Hagar was driven to tears at being
unable to provide for her son after the water ran out, an angel again came to
her, telling her that God heard Ishmael’s cry.
God opened Hagar’s eyes so that she could see a well of water
nearby.
In his book, Abraham: A Journey
into the Center of Three Faiths, author Bruce Feiler noted that Genesis
actually portrayed Hagar as a matriarchal figure in her own right.
Feiler added that Abraham was not totally out of the lives of Sarah’s
maidservant and his first-born son.
Both the post-biblical collection of rabbinic stories, a book of Midrash
called the Chapters of Rabbi Eliezer, and the Qur’an include a tale that
portrays Abraham’s continued connection to Ishmael.
According to the story, Abraham went to see his son Ishmael three years
after Ishmael had married a Moabite woman. Ishmael wasn’t at home when Abraham
arrived, so Abraham spoke to Ishmael’s wife, asking her for some bread and
water in the heat of the mid-day sun.
She refused. Abraham got up to
leave. But first, he asked Ishmael’s
wife to tell her husband that an old man from Canaan had come to see him, and
to deliver the message that "the threshold of his house was not in good
repair." When Ishmael’s wife told him what the visitor had said, he had an
inkling who the man was and what he meant.
Ishmael divorced his wife due to her lack of kindness, and his mother
found him another wife.
Three years later, Abraham went to see
Ishmael, and, again, he didn’t find him
at home. Abraham asked Ishmael’s new wife for some bread and water, because he
was weary. She quickly and kindly
fulfilled his request. Then Abraham prayed to God on his son's behalf, and
Ishmael's house was instantly filled with many good things. When Ishmael came
back, his wife told him what had happened. And Ishmael realized that his father
still loved him.
Many stories about family strife end without
even a glimmer of hope or a measure of positive resolution. In this tale, not only did the father demonstrate
care for his son, but his son appreciated the love that was offered him.
I believe that this story was likely
intended to elicit in us empathy towards Hagar and Ishmael along with Sarah and
Isaac. Its message may be that the preservation
of family ties, even at a distance, has great value for all concerned.
Rather than focusing on what drives people
apart, there are always connections that can bring human beings together, even
when they disagree, and even when they may assume that their diverse backgrounds
and beliefs render any connection impossible.
Some people who have experienced the worst
expressions of human hatred and an extreme lack of empathy realize that what
happened to them should lead them to improve the plight of those currently in
dire straits and to encourage all people not to treat any person with
disrespect, indecency or inhumanity.
One such individual was the late Elie
Wiesel, Holocaust survivor, activist, and a well-known author who was awarded
the Nobel Peace prize in 1986. Wiesel’s
teaching assistant at Boston University, Ariel Burger, in his book, WITNESS:
LESSONS FROM ELIE WIESEL’S CLASSROOM, offered readers an opportunity to enter
into the presence of Wiesel as a moral guide and spiritual mentor.
In one of my favorite passages in this book,
Wiesel explained to his students how we can approach each other with respect and
even empathy: “To be human is to share a common origin. And if we share a
common origin, our destinies are entwined. What happens to me will eventually
happen to you; what happened to my people is a foreshadowing of what will
threaten the world. Auschwitz led to Hiroshima and who knows what else?
Therefore the most important biblical commandment is Lo taamod al dam réakha,
‘Thou shall not stand idly by the shedding of the blood of thy fellow human
being.’ The word réakha, ‘fellow human being’—it is universal. Anyone who is
suffering, anyone who is threatened becomes your responsibility. If you can
feel this and act with even a little bit more humanity, more sensitivity, as a
result, that is the beginning. It is not the end—I do not know how to end hatred,
I truly wish I did—but recognizing our shared humanity is a good beginning.”
When Wiesel presented remarks at the opening
of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in April of 1993, battles were
raging in the former Yugoslavia. Before
he ended his address, Wiesel turned to President Bill Clinton and said: “Mr.
President, I cannot NOT tell you something. I have been in the former
Yugoslavia last fall. I cannot sleep because of what I have seen. As a Jew I am
saying that we must do something to stop the bloodshed in that country! People
fight each other and children die. Why? Something, anything must be done.” The United States soon agreed to offer
assistance because of Wiesel’s plea.
And Elie Wiesel’s words about showing care
and empathy towards people who are suffering in the midst of violent conflict
across the world can continue to inspire us in this New Year and every
year. In that spirit, may we open our
eyes and hearts and extend our hands towards our fellow human beings to
alleviate their pain and to do what we can to make peace on this earth as God
makes peace in the heavens above. May
that mission lead us to offer our human brothers and sisters the possibility of
being safe, secure and at home wherever they may be.
