Earlier this month we enjoyed the sunniest day of the year, the summer solstice. Each day after, we get less and less sun. This happens every year, but this year the phenomenon unfortunately seems to make more and more sense as a metaphor for what is happening in our country.

Many in my congregation have asked me lately where Judaism fits into the recent developments in our country on immigration policy and the Supreme Court ruling about the travel ban. I suspect the questions come from people who feel our world is getting a little darker every day. While that may be true calendar-wise at this time of the year, it is also true that after the winter solstice, the day of the year with the least sunlight, the calendar marches toward brighter days.

My heart feels heavy watching and reading about what is happening to families on our southern border and the chaos that has ensued due to a lack of clarity about strategy and tactics to implement immigration policy. Here, Judaism speaks with unambiguous language and direction.

In the Torah we are commanded 36 times to remember that we were strangers in a strange land and that we are obligated, "When strangers sojourn with you in your land, you shall not do them wrong. The strangers who sojourn with you shall be to you as the natives among you, and you shall love them as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt."

Our foundational story is one of "stranger." That's who we were. The immigrant story is who we are. The Jewish communal institutions — our synagogues, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society, community centers and the like — all aim to make sure strangers are welcomed and feel safe and secure in their new home. We can continue to figure out how to do that while maintaining the safety and security of our country.

We Americans are nothing, if not creative. The prevailing Jewish value here is understanding and believing that all of God's creations who are trying to do the right thing should be treated with love and care. There is a way to prosecute the laws of our country and be moral, decent and caring at the same time.

When our government and elected leaders act in contravention to these ideals, then we must speak out. More importantly, in order to actualize this core feature of our Jewish identity — that we were strangers in a strange land and that we should love the stranger as we love ourselves — we are duty-bound to make sure others aren't treated as we were. Here, I believe, is where the convergence of Judaism's teachings and America's opportunities merge in a powerful, hopeful and meaningful way.

I believe the U.S. is still the land of opportunity and the place where "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

And I believe we are to be a nation of priests — a holy people. And that requires us to remember who we are, and from where and from whom we came, and to use that memory to bring more light to the world no matter the time of year nor how difficult the road in front of us. We want our country to be safe, to be humane, to be fair and to be welcoming, and we can certainly love those strangers as we love ourselves. We should do no less and may God give us the courage to do more.

Andrew M. Paley is senior rabbi of Temple Shalom in Dallas. He wrote this column for The Dallas Morning News.

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