You Shall Not Stand Idly By

Our thoughts these days are pulled in many directions, toward the ongoing war in Iran and the broader instability across the Middle East, and toward developments closer to home that are leaving many of us feeling alarmed and uncertain about the direction of our country. It is hard to know where to direct our attention. And yet sometimes deeply troubling things are happening right in front of us, hidden in plain sight.

In a number of cities across the United States, ICE has been visibly present in open spaces and on the streets. In New York City, however, the reality is different in form but not in substance: ICE is often not visible in the streets, but it is very much present behind institutional walls, in places like immigration courts, where people’s lives are determined in moments of great vulnerability.

At 26 Federal Plaza, in particular, ICE is effectively disappearing people into detention, often separating them from their families, holding them in overcrowded and inhumane conditions, and denying them access to attorneys.

Two weeks ago there was a protest near the federal building at 26 Federal Plaza organized by T’ruah and Bend the Arc, along with 70 Jewish community co-sponsor organizations and synagogues, including BJ. The rally brought together many rabbis and Jewish community members in a shared act of public conscience. Felicia and I were there, together with a good number of BJ members.

I spoke there about what I had witnessed and about what our tradition demands of us in such moments:

“The first time I came to 26 Federal Plaza was in the mid-1990s, when I went to process my green card. Then I came for my interview in 2005, when I proudly became an American citizen. I took my exam, and then I went to one of the courts at 26 Federal Plaza, where there were hundreds of people coming from all over the world proudly becoming Americans, many of them in order to escape difficult situations, many of them escaping persecution and coming here, to a place of openness and freedom. It was a wonderful day.

And then I was at 26 Federal Plaza more recently. And the experience was horrifying, because it reminded me less of the America that I had come to, and more of the place where I had come from, which was in the 1980s in Argentina under military dictatorship and oppression. What I saw just recently at 26 Federal Plaza was violence, intimidation and fear. I saw people being taken away before my eyes, and shoved into a room to be sent God knows where. It was horrifying.

So I came here today to say that our tradition commands us: לֹ֥א תַעֲמֹ֖ד עַל־דַּ֣ם רֵעֶ֑ךָ

You shall not stand idly by when your fellow is in danger (Lev. 19:16). The Torah does not only ask us to be compassionate; it draws a line clearly and firmly against cruelty, not only when armies act in visible and dramatic ways, but also when harm becomes routine, when it is carried out quietly, bureaucratically, or in ways that make it easier to look away. In those moments the obligation to see and to refuse indifference only grows stronger.

The rabbis in the Talmud would teach that to humiliate a person in public is like shedding blood. Stripping a person of dignity to make them afraid, exposed, and powerless is not a small wrong; it is a deep moral injury. The rabbis warned about what they called middat Sedom—the ways of Sodom—a society that followed rules and procedures and structures, and yet had completely lost its moral center, a society where harm is justified because it’s legal, where cruelty is hidden behind order.

Our tradition doesn’t only say that we must love the stranger. It also says do not oppress; do not humiliate; do not harden your heart. Because the danger is not only that people suffer—and they do suffer. The deeper danger is that we can become used to it—that we accept a world in which cruelty, fear, degradation become normalized. And that is a line our tradition insists we’re not allowed to cross.

So we gather not only out of compassion, but out of refusal: a refusal to accept cruelty, intimidation, and violence as normal; a refusal to let human dignity be trampled upon; a refusal to stand idly by.”

Over the past year, BJ has sought to respond to this reality not only through words, but through sustained action.

In partnership with HIAS, the Church of St. Paul and St. Andrew, and Co-Counsel NYC, BJ helped launch the Sacred Court Support Program in response to the growing hardship faced by immigrants appearing in court, often after fully complying with the legal process. Rooted in the belief that no one should have to face these systems alone, more than 250 volunteers have been trained in sacred accompaniment. Together, they have accompanied over 160 individuals to court hearings and ICE check-ins, offering presence, dignity, and human solidarity at moments of profound vulnerability and fear.

At the same time, BJ has continued to provide direct support in multiple ways: hosting weekly respite dinners for newly arrived immigrants and families in city shelters; mobilizing attorneys in our community for pro bono legal work; reaffirming our sanctuary policy so that BJ remains a place of refuge; advocating for immigrant protections alongside Jewish and interfaith partners; and building sustained relationships through our Family Partnership Program, which connects BJ households with immigrant families in ongoing mutual support.

BJ volunteers will also continue to show up physically and morally at detention centers, court hearings, and other places where families are separated and human dignity is at risk.

These efforts have been led with extraordinary dedication by BJ’s Social Action/Social Justice Manager, Kiana Davis, together with BJ members Susan Thal, Debra Kalmuss, and Betty Jane Jacobs.

All of this emerges from a single, clear Torah command: You shall not stand idly by.

In a time when fear and polarization so easily distort moral perception, the Torah calls us back to attention and to recognize the human faces before us.

May we see more clearly, act more justly, and remain faithful to the dignity of every human being created in God’s image.

Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Roly Matalon