Below, former Chief Rabbi of the British
Commonwealth, Jonathan Sacks offers three different parables about the
relationship between newcomers and their host societies.
How
do newcomers develop a sense of belonging to the places where they have
arrived?
How
do we welcome people into our “homes?”
In
the first, a hundred strangers have been wandering around the
countryside in search of a place to stay. Eventually they arrive at the gate of
a large country house. The owner comes to the gate, sees the strangers and asks
them who they are. They tell him their story. He gives them a warm smile. “How
good to see you,” he says. “As you can see, I have an enormous home. Far too
big for me, actually. There are hundreds of empty rooms. Please feel free to
stay here as long as you like. I look forward to your company. From now on
consider yourself my guests.”
A
lovely story. But not entirely so for the strangers in the long run. They have
a place to live, and yes, their host is exactly as he seemed at first, welcoming,
hospitable. . . . However there is only one thing wrong as far as they are
concerned. However generous their host, he remains the host and they are his
guests. The place belongs to someone else. That is society as a country house.
The
second: A hundred strangers in search of a home find themselves in the middle
of a big city. They are there to find a hotel. It is large, comfortable, and
has every amenity. The visitors have money enough to pay the hotel bills. They
book their rooms, unpack, and stay.
The rules are simple.
They are free to do what they like, so long as they don’t disturb the other
guests. Their relationship with the hotel is purely contractual. They pay money
in return for certain services. . . .
The
hotel offers the newcomers a freedom and equality they did not have in the
first model. They are guests, but so is everyone else. There is only one
problem. A hotel is where you stay, not where you belong. You feel no loyalty
to a hotel. You don’t put down roots there. It doesn’t become part of your
identity. . . . Yes, after a while you recognize your fellow guests. You bid
them good morning. You discuss the weather and football. But it remains a place
where everyone is, in the biblical phrase, “a stranger and sojourner.” That is
society as a hotel.
The
third: A hundred strangers arrive at a town. They are met by the mayor,
councilors and local residents. The mayor says: “Friends, we welcome you. It is
good to have you among us. Sadly, as you can see, there is no country house
where we might accommodate you. There is, though, something we can offer you.
“We have a patch of empty land: large enough to accommodate homes for all of
you. We have bricks and materials. We have experts who can help you design your
homes, and we will help you build them. . . . Let us do this together.”
So
it happens. Unlike the country house, the newcomers have to build their own
long-term accommodation. Unlike the hotel, they do not merely pay. They invest
their energies in what they build. . . . They helped build it.
The
newcomers still occasionally seem strange. They speak and act and dress
differently than the locals. But those long sessions of working together have
had their effect. The locals know the newcomers are serious, committed,
dedicated. They have their own ways, but they have also learned the ways of the
people of the town, and they have worked out . . . a rough and ready
friendship. . . . Making something together breaks down walls of suspicion and
misunderstanding. . . . That is society as the home we build together.
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