Don't Cut Corners

Emor

Lev. 21:1 - 24:23

Précis: This parasha is divided into four sections. First, it reviews procedures for the Priests to use to remain ritually pure. Second, it outlines the festival and holiday calendar. Third, it explains the use of the oil and the bread on display on the altar. Finally, there is a brief narrative about a blasphemer who is condemned to death.

Lev. 23:22 “And when you reap the harvest of your land, you will not wholly reap the corner of the field, and you will not gather the gleaning of your harvest; you will leave them for the poor, and for the stranger: I am Adonai your God.”

We find in the midst of this week’s reading (which contains almost 10% of the Torah’s enumerated mitzvot) the command to leave the corners of our fields for the poor, a proof text forming the basis for the ethical demands of tzedakah (righteous giving). Yet just last week, the same command appeared, and here it is again, repeated virtually word for word. Why this repetition?

            Nahama Leibowitz suggests that the harvest festivals, the calendar for which also appear in this week’s reading, were times of joy, during which it was easy to forget those in need. She adds that a successful harvest could lead the farmer to believe that the bounty was a result of his own work, and not a blessing from God. This verse is a reminder that we must share God’s blessings with those less fortunate than ourselves.

            It should be noted that in the phrase “your land” the word “your” is in the plural form. Our text implies that ownership of the land is in the plural, what we might call “common” land. When we read it that way, the gleaners are not getting charity from the farmer: they are sharing in what belongs to them, as a gift from God. To emphasize this point, our tradition states that even if the harvest is poor, the farmer still has the obligation to leave the corners for gleaners.

            Today, we live in economically demanding times (at least for many). Those of us who are blessed with the means to do so must share with those less fortunate than ourselves. Even those whose “harvest” has been modest have an obligation to help those further down “the ladder.” (As an aside, there is within our tradition a mandate to give sufficient alms to a beggar such that he, in turn, may help another.)

            What this says about the state of our current political “debate” is important. Whether one is a rock-ribbed conservative or a wild-eyed socialist, it is a necessity that ways (and means) be found to help the least well off in our society. The ways of achieving that result may (and do!) vary greatly, but we must agree on the goal which our tradition sets forth with such emphasis this week. 

Planting Seeds

Kedoshim

Lev. 19:1-20:27

Précis:  The opening words of Kedoshim are “You shall be holy” (kedoshim tihyu), and it continues with various descriptions of how the People are to strive for holiness. Included are fundamental laws, such as fearing one’s parents and observing Shabbat. Consideration of the poor through the commandments to leave the corners of fields for gleaners is included, as are mandates which complement the ethical principles of the Ten Commandments (being honest, avoiding vengeance). Specific bans against magicians, soothsaying, witchcraft and defiling the dead follow, as are reminders to avoid human sacrifice. This parasha is often viewed as the very core of moral teaching for the Jewish People.

Lev. 19:23-25 "When you enter the land and plant any tree for food you shall regard its fruit as forbidden. Three years it shall be forbidden for you, not to be eaten. In the fourth year all its fruit shall be set aside for jubilation before the Lord; and only in the fifth year may you use its fruit -- that its yield to you may be increased: I am the Lord your God."

           

            The Sages regarded this as a proof text requiring the Jews to plant trees upon their entry into the Promised land. While God had fed them during the four decades in the Wilderness, they now had to feed themselves, and planting trees was an important aspect of this obligation. We plant trees for ourselves and for the future generations.

            There is a famous midrash in which the Roman Emperor Hadrian came upon an elderly Jew planting fig trees. The Roman asked why he was engaged in such labor; given his age, it was unlikely that he would ever enjoy its fruit. The Jew replied, "My lord, I plant this tree myself because if I earn it, I will eat of the fruits of my labor. If I don’t, then my children will." Three years later, Hadrian met the Jew again by his fig tree, holding a basket of fresh figs which he offered to the Emperor. Impressed and humbled by the Jew’s actions, Hadrian returned the Jew‘s basket filled with gold coins.

            We learn from this charming story that we can never stop planting, whether it’s trees or acts of gimilut chasadim (loving-kindness). I write this specifically in mind of my 97 year old mother-in-law Esther, who continues to “plant” the “seeds” which she prays will keep her family close to each other and to our tradition. May her prayers be answered in full.