Aliens, Whales, & Tetzaveh

This week I happened upon a funny series on Netflix.

At first I thought it would be too silly, too childish.

But I found the humor to be right up my ally.

So I’ve kept watching, becoming more and more engrossed and invested in the characters and the outcome.

It’s called “Resident Alien.”

The main character is an alien living among humans—thus, he is a “resident alien.”

The title is obviously a play on the way we often speak of migrants from other countries in the U.S.; we dehumanize them.

This particular alien on the show has come from another planet to Earth—and not for good reasons.

He is on a mission to destroy all of humanity.

(And I’m not totally clear on why.)

One of his strengths is that he can transform his outer appearance to look like any other human.

As he lives among humans, he learns their ways.

At first, it’s all part of his disguise.

But slowly he is transformed.

He becomes more and more human, and less and less alien.

This is part of his charm.

When once he thought himself far superior, far more intelligent, he begins to see the strengths in humanity.

One character, who becomes his only friend, teaches him about human compassion.

“We show up for each other when we’re in need.”

This is how we survive the trials and tribulations of life, she explains.

The show also teaches that anyone can be your family, even when they are not blood-related.

This morning as I was exercising, I tuned into the Radiolab podcast.

It’s fun and funny, and I always learn something from it.

This week, the episode was called, “The World’s Smartest Animal.”

The hosts set it up kind of like a game show.

The contestants each argue for a particular animal as the smartest on Earth.

The chicken, one says, is so smart, it can play tic tac toe.

The crow makes tools.

It also holds funerals for other crows (so it can figure out what they died of and avoid a similar death).

In the end, the audience votes.

And the animal that wins is the sperm whale.

Why?

Partly because the sperm whale can sense another being approaching from very far away (good for self-protection against the enemy).

More importantly, however, it was admired for lacking the concept of “I” in its “vocabulary.”

If a sperm whale could express its emotions, it would say, “We are sad,” or “We are in pain,” for example.

There was even a group of sperm whales that adopted a dolphin with a deformity that had caused its own group to reject it.

(Brings tears to your eyes, right?)

The sperm whale is the epitome of a completely communal way of thinking and living.

Since the beginning of the war in Gaza, I’ve been talking a lot about compassion.

How can we open our hearts to those we disagree with?

Or even to our “enemy”?

Or that which seems alien to us?

Does it protect us to be afraid and maintain our distance?

Certainly. Sometimes.

This week in Torah, instructions are given for garments to be worn by the high priest in the Temple.

One major element is the breastplate, or khoshen.

It is a patterned brocade made of special, colorful threads into which are set four rows of stones.

The stones add up to twelve, each representing one of the twelve tribes of Israel.

The priest is to wear it over his chest.

What is the meaning behind this?

It is said to have been a tool for divination—a way of getting Divine guidance.

Each tribe has its own particular qualities, as represented by the stones, and perhaps needs guidance in times of war.

But they are twelve that add up to One: the Jewish people in sum.

Why do we continually need reminders that we are One?

Like the Resident Alien in the TV series, who learns that the greatest human strength lies in our ability to have compassion, it seems that this is a lesson we, too, have not yet internalized.

Israel is a microcosm of all humanity.

We are still in a tribal mindset, waiting to be attacked, and using an attack as a reason to strip our “enemy” or their humanity.

When we stop seeing the Other as human, we lose our compassion.

When we lose our compassion, we lose what is perhaps most valuable and special about being human.

I wonder if we can stop politicizing violence with labels that either dehumanize others or hold them up as heroes.

If we personally are not capable of doing this, how can we expect our “enemy” to do it?

After all, what’s the difference between a “terrorist” and a “freedom fighter” except that we think one is more justified in their actions than the other?

Can we make it a practice to look at a stranger, someone we are perhaps even frightened of, and still see the image of God?

Like the Resident Alien who begins to rethink his mission of killing humans as he gets closer to them, maybe we, too, can get closer to those we consider our enemies.

I think it’s fair to say that are all engrossed and invested in this—and all—conflict on Earth, and its outcome.

Our future as a people, as a species, and as a planet depends on it.

This future depends on us.

We just have to remember that we are all characters in this show on Earth.

May we all become more human, less alien, and stop thinking of ourselves and our tribe as superior.

Because anyone can be family, even if they’re not blood-related.

Shabbat Shalom.

And say Amen.