October 6
October 5th
October 4th
October 3
October 2
Remember the good you received and do the same.
You shall not mistreat a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.
The experience of feeling like a foreigner
Being a foreigner is not just a legal or geographical status. It is also a human experience that almost all of us, in one way or another, have lived through at some point. We can feel like foreigners whenever we enter a context whose codes we don't understand: a new country, a new job, a school, a residence, a social group, or even a family that isn't our own. We can also feel like foreigners when new generations use languages and references that are incomprehensible to us, or when we discover that the society we thought we belonged to has changed in a direction we no longer recognize. We all know what it means to feel out of place: a common experience that can help us put ourselves in someone else's shoes. The history of humanity has always been a history of encounters between cultures. While migrations have generated conflicts and difficulties, they have also fostered exchange, mutual enrichment, and the profound transformation of societies. Therefore, we can view the phenomenon of migration not only as an emergency but also as an opportunity to renew the human family. It is an invitation to step outside our comfort zones and encounter others. The real challenge is to live through this epochal shift with a perspective capable of discovering the seeds of hope that migration carries within it, transforming welcome into a space for building fraternity. We can begin with small gestures. Actions that may seem insignificant, but which, joined with those of many others, form a silent and real chain capable of becoming a "bulwark against barbarity." Chiara Lubich expressed this in one of her last public appearances, in London, in June 2004: "[...] our experience tells us that, for those who today set out to move the mountains of hatred and violence, the task is immense. But what is impossible for millions of isolated and divided people seems to become possible for people who have made mutual love, mutual understanding, and unity the essential purpose of their lives. [...]" When we live in this way, dialogue can become a true culture of encounter, in which the diversity of each individual ceases to be a barrier and becomes a gift for the common good. As a testament to this, a Swiss parish priest explains the "lessons" he has learned living in a migrant shelter. On the one hand, he became aware of the extent to which racism is latent in each of us; on the other, he witnessed the extraordinary transformative power that arises from encounter: "Just one example: here in Lucerne, a young man from Rwanda lived with us for three years. He had no papers and, when he arrived, he was very psychologically traumatized. At first, it wasn't easy. But, little by little, his original personality shone through again, and with it, our diverse community also flourished into an even more beautiful life. How much we laughed, celebrated, prayed, and overcame uncertainties and great challenges together! We became brothers. This became especially evident on the day this Rwandan brother of ours left against his will. Four police officers came to our house to take him back to his country by force." They were very surprised to find ten people of different nationalities there who had come to say goodbye to him and to see a serene atmosphere in such a difficult situation. (…) Five years have passed and the deep family bond that has been created between us remains very much alive, from one continent to another.«[1] [1] »Migrazioni: sfide e opportunità« in: Ekklesia – n.26 (2025/1)
Word of life
This month's Word of Life is taken from the Book of Exodus, which recounts the increasingly desperate conditions of the Israelites in Egypt. Oppressed and reduced to slavery, they cry out to heaven for help. This cry reaches the heart of God, who decides to intervene and chooses Moses as his messenger. After their liberation, the ceremony that seals the Covenant between God and Israel takes place. The document that reflects this relationship is the so-called "Covenant Code" (Exodus 20-23), accepted by all the people (cf. Exodus 24), the best-known part of which is the Ten Commandments. To these are added other prescriptions and laws of various kinds, all related to the extraordinary event of liberation. This month's verse comes from this heritage of rules for living and behaving: "You shall not mistreat or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt." The foreigner is among the categories favored and protected by God, for they are among the most vulnerable, along with the poor, the orphan, and the widow. The motivation for this commandment appeals above all to the memory of all that the Israelites experienced as slaves in Egypt. God's powerful intervention in the Exodus is continually recounted in the Old Testament. It is an event that the people must always keep in mind, as something that is repeated in various ways in each generation. Origen's commentary on the Book of Exodus is significant: "Whoever oppresses the foreigner shows that he has not yet left Egypt."[1] This commandment also appeals to empathy: putting oneself in the place of others helps to understand them and what they need. Those who have gone through a difficult experience should find it easier to identify with the pain of others. But in the Old Testament, this is not only a human experience: the first to exemplify what it means to enter into the situation of others is God himself. «You shall not mistreat or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.» How can we put this Word of life into practice? It might be helpful to ask ourselves: Have I ever experienced being a stranger? Have I felt unaccepted, unwelcomed, misunderstood, out of place? What have I learned from these situations? Who is the stranger to me? And who is the stranger to God? How can I welcome them without reservation, just as the Lord does with us? What can I do concretely? Chiara Lubich writes: «With a God who makes no distinction between people, how can we not have universal fraternity engraved on our hearts? As children of the same Father, we can discover ourselves as brothers and sisters to every man and woman with whom we interact. Therefore, if we are all brothers and sisters, we must love everyone, starting with the person next to us, without holding back. In this way, our love will not be platonic and abstract, but concrete, based on service. A love capable of going out to meet the other; to engage in dialogue, to identify with their situations of need, to take on their burdens and worries. Until the other feels understood and welcomed in their diversity and free to express all the richness they carry within.»[2] This is the experience of Maryam, a young Pakistani woman: «In a café, I saw the owner refuse tea to an elderly woman. I only had a few rupees (the local currency) in my pocket, but I felt I should help her, so I approached the owner and offered to pay. At first, he looked at me doubtfully, but after a pause, he smiled and said, »No, that’s not fair. If you, a customer, are willing to give what little you have to care for her, how much more generous should I be as the owner! It’s easier for me to give her a free cup of tea than to let you pay.« It was a powerful experience. By trying to show love, first to the woman and then to the owner, I’ve seen that a simple act of kindness can open another person’s heart.» Augusto Parody Reyes and the Word of Vine team [1] Origen, Homilies on Exodus, v, 5.[2] C. Lubich, Word of Life May 2006: Words of Life/2 (1991-2006) (ed. F. Ciardi), Ciudad Nueva, Madrid 2026, p. 351.
