You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. Leviticus 19:34
When I first went to an inner-city inpatient treatment center, it was quite a jarring experience. I went from having the responsibility and authority of an ER physician to being a client at a facility where I couldn’t go outside or get my snack bin without permission. This was an urban program where I was surrounded by those who’d been incarcerated. They didn’t get a lot of physicians there and so, I was more than a little out of place. For a couple of days, I was the new guy, just trying to figure things out. During those first few days, the rest of the clients divided into two kinds of people in my mind – those who showed me around, helping me adjust, and those who had nothing but disdain for the new guy. Later, I understood. Once I’d been there a couple weeks, something switched in my mind, and I was also tempted to look down contemptuously upon the new arrivals. What a bunch of idiots. This was a strange phenomenon that I was able to identify and avoid, but it took purposeful intention on my part to choose to be nice to the new guy.
Why? I’d just been that new guy. Why didn’t I naturally remember how it felt and immediately feel compassion? It was my pride. Even though I should have been the humblest person in the world at that point, looking down on no one, my pride just naturally sought out anyone that I could look down upon to make myself feel better.
Though it has nothing to do with inpatient treatment, today’s passage addresses this phenomenon. In it, God revealed his heart for the stranger – the new guy. In his instruction, God told the Israelites to be kind to the traveler among them, loving that person as themselves. God knew that it would be their nature to fear, alienate, and look down upon the new guy and so, he commanded them to remember that they were once the aliens in Egypt. You’ve been there. Remember what it was like.
Remember where you came from. That’s a good rule. As I’ve been in recovery for nearly 10 years, it’s easy for me to look down on the guy still struggling with addiction. What an idiot. In condescending though, I’ve simply traded my drug addiction for deadly pride – not a good trade. When, however, I remember that I’ve been there, I’m able to choose compassion and understanding. God loved me while I was addicted. Now I must share his love with those still struggling. I’m far from perfect and so I must daily choose to humbly love others, treating them as I would want to be treated, remembering that I’ve been there.