Sermon - "Empathy" - Rosh Hashanah Morning - September 30, 2019

       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.