Jewish tradition has some powerful stories that speak to that very idea.
Take this tale, recounted in Devarim Rabbah. It’s a quick one, but it packs a punch. Rabbi Tanhuma shares a story about a ship. On this ship were a whole bunch of idolaters, and just one lone Jew. Imagine that situation for a moment. Talk about feeling out of place!
They sail along, until they reach an island. And then the idolaters ask something pretty interesting of this Jewish passenger. "Here," they say, offering him money. "Go ashore and buy something for us."
Now, the Jew is understandably hesitant. "Am I not a stranger here?" he asks. "How would I even know where to go?" Seems like a reasonable concern, right?
But their response? It's what makes this story so memorable. "Is there a Jew who is a stranger?" they retort. "Everywhere you go, your God is with you."
Wow.
Think about the weight of that statement. It's not just about physical safety, is it? It’s about the unwavering presence of the Divine. It suggests that even in the most unfamiliar, potentially hostile environments, a Jew isn’t truly alone, because the presence of God accompanies them. The Yerushalmi (Jerusalem Talmud), in Berakhot 9:1, adds a layer to this. The ship had been in rough seas, and the idolaters’ prayers to their gods were useless. Only the Jew’s prayer to God saved them, which led to this recognition of God’s constant nearness.
It's a profound thought, isn’t it? That idea of immanence – God's presence in the world, always near. It challenges us to consider: How does this awareness of God's nearness shape our actions, our interactions, our very being? Does it make us more courageous? More compassionate? More aware of the Divine spark in ourselves and in others?
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Maybe, just maybe, we're all a little less alone than we think.