It is the most frequently repeated commandment in the Torah: ‘You shall not wrong a stranger (ger) or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.’ (Exodus 22:20)

Some version of this command can be found dozens of times in the Torah. So many times, in fact, that it may feel like a pillar of Jewish values and history. Its meaning, however, has meant so many different things throughout history, that it is worthwhile to reexamine this oft-quoted command, and ask ourselves: What does this command mean in our current reality?

This weekend, OLAM partner HIAS is holding its annual initiative, Refugee Shabbat - an opportunity to reflect and to recommit to the Jewish value of welcoming and standing in solidarity with refugees. As some governments around the world are cutting aid to refugees and adopting increasingly insular policies, Jewish communities can and must commit to upholding the core Jewish value of welcoming the outsider, and supporting those seeking refuge.

The need has never been more urgent; the number of displaced people worldwide has reached an all-time high of 122.6 million. Many wealthy nations have significantly reduced the resettlement of refugees. And the trend extends beyond government policies; in the broader philanthropic sector, there is a growing inward focus. Both institutions and individual donors are responding to the uncertainty of the moment by prioritizing local needs over global crises. Yet, as both history and Jewish texts have taught us, when societies turn inward, the most vulnerable populations suffer.

To understand how our texts speak to this moment, we must examine more closely the meaning of the word ger. Rabbi Dr. Armin Langer traces its use in the Torah and Talmud, noting that it "consistently refers to an individual who is not originally part of the Israelite or Jewish community, but now resides within a community influenced by Israelite or Jewish customs, or is a member thereof."

The Torah repeatedly insists that the ger must be looked after alongside other marginalised groups, and be treated like other Israelites. Yet, there are also limits: unlike Israelites, the ger can become a permanent slave, and can be charged interest on loans.

In rabbinic literature, the concept of ger evolved into two categories. The ger toshav was a non-Jew living among Jews who accepted the seven Noahide laws. The ger tzedek was someone who formally converted to Judaism. Following the destruction of the Second Temple, these distinctions have become less relevant. The end of Jewish autonomy meant there were no longer non-Jews living under Jewish governance, so the concept of a ger toshav became largely abstract and more disconnected from our lived reality.

This leaves us with the question about how we should understand our obligation to support the ger today. Many Jewish communities and organizations have expanded their understanding of the command to support the ger to supporting displaced people and asylum seekers around the world, including those in their own Jewish communities as well as those who remain in low- or middle- income countries. HIAS, for example, is one of many NGOs who offer life-saving support to the more than 700,000 Sudanese refugees who have fled violence into Chad, providing both immediate needs and long-term community programs.

Some might argue that the Torah’s commandment to care for the ger within the Jewish community does not apply to a Sudanese refugee in Chad. But our ancestors could never have imagined a world in which we both have the knowledge of faraway crises and the capacity to address them. For the first time in history, we can extend our obligation beyond our immediate surroundings, ensuring that the most vulnerable, wherever they may be, receive support.

And the question of who counts as a ger is only half the issue. Rabbi Jill Jacobs explains that the obligation to care for the stranger because “you were strangers in the land of Egypt” is not as narrow as it sounds:

“For the bible, the experience of not being fully secure in Egypt obligates the Jewish people, now secure in their own land, to care for those who remain perpetually on the outside… Many Jews have reinterpreted the word “ger” as “immigrant”... reminding Jews that our own community once occupied the position now held by newer immigrant groups.” This obligation doesn’t disappear when we ourselves may feel under threat. Instead, we must channel our own experiences of marginalization into action.

A Sudanese refugee in Chad may never meet a Jewish person. But what an extraordinary kiddush hashem it is for them to receive aid made possible by the Jewish community. In a world that is increasingly turning inwards, let us recognize the privilege and capacity of many Jewish communities, and honor our history, by fulfilling the Torah’s most repeated commandment, and supporting the ger wherever we encounter them.