Parshat Ki Tavo: Meaningful Labor

Work can be an uplifting experience. Work can give pride to those who view the fruit of their labor and marvel at their accomplishments. It can enable men and women to provide sustenance and shelter to themselves and their families, and assist people on their way toward discovering the “good life.” However, work can also be demeaning and humiliating. Work can destroy an individual’s self-worth and self-esteem and can obliterate their very humanity. Instead of leaving from a day’s work, able to provide a home and food for themselves and their children, they find their pockets nearly empty and their backs and hands sore from excruciating labor. Rather than experiencing a life filled with work that uplifts and inspires, the individual finds himself or herself stuck in a monotony of pain, depression and mounting bills.

What is the differentiating factor between those who find their work meaningful and uplifting and those that come home everyday from their occupations empty, broken and dejected? Why do some take pride in their work and others only seek ways to escape from the torture they call their life? This week’s Torah portion, Parshat Ki Tavo, presents a possible explanation and solution to this quandary.

Moses, addressing the Nation of Israel, a nation that at that point in history had only recently been freed from the brutality of two centuries of harsh slavery, details the procedures the Israelites will follow when they come to the Land of Israel. The first law given in this Parsha is the law of bikkurim, of the first fruits. Upon entering and establishing sovereignty over the Land, the Jewish people are enjoined to bring the first fruits of their yearly agricultural labors to the Temple in Jerusalem and offer them up to God. At the moment of the transfer of the fruits from the one who toiled over their production, the farmer to the kohen, the farmer declares:

An Aramean sought to destroy my forefather, and he went down to Egypt and sojourned there with a small number of people, and there, he became a great mighty and numerous nation. And the Egyptians treated us cruelly and afflicted us and imposed harsh labor upon us. So we cried out to the Lord, God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil and our oppression. And the Lord brought us out from Egypt with a strong hand and with an outstretched arm, with great awe, and with signs and wonders.

And he brought us to this place, and He gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. And now, behold, I have brought the first of the fruit of the ground which you, O Lord, have given to me.

The Torah is commanding the one who offers the fruit to make this declaration is creating a clear contrast between the existence suffered in Egypt and the life in the Land of Israel. Furthermore, Rashi highlights the contrast even more by mentioning that the law of bikkurim did not become binding until the land that they toiled on was their property and sovereignty was established on it.

The process of bikkurim, of the offering of the first fruits, establishes an important principle in meaningful work. Labor has the potential to provide a sense of accomplishment and pride to the laborer only when the laborer has, at least, some ownership over the work of their own hands. When work is completely and utterly
appropriated by others, and the worker receives, at the most, pennies for each product they produce, that is a form of slavery. Slavery demeans, dehumanizes and destroys a person, reducing them from an individual to a thing possessed by their masters. The slavery experienced by the Israelites in ancient Egypt was not only meant to produce a product but to destroy the soul of the slave and demoralize them from collective action. Therefore, Moses in the first commandment in this Parsha, enjoins the people to experience a work that has purpose and meaning.

Those that brought the bikkurim declared to the presiding kohen, to all those in attendance, to God and to themselves, that the work that produced those first fruits was their work; they planted the seeds, they tilled the ground, they reaped the fruits and they had the ownership over the product to do with it as they saw fit. By being able to make the choice to bring that fruit to the Temple, the farmer is exercising control over the work of his or her hands that someone who does not own the result of their labor cannot do. This is the differentiating factor between the labor done in ancient Egypt and that done in the Land of Israel. This is also perhaps the differentiating factor between those in our own modern era who experience their occupations as a source of pride and those that go from one torturous day to the next in the jobs they perform.

This Shabbat, with the lessons of bikkurim fresh in our minds, let us commit ourselves to find ways to take ownership over the fruit of our hands. Let us not give up hope in being able to find meaning and self-worth in our occupations. Similarly, if we are (future) managers, executives or owners of businesses, let us commit to try and find ways to share more with those who make our businesses possible; with the laborers who toil everyday, those that make our success a reality. In order so that we may “rejoice with all the good that the Lord, your God, has granted you and your household you, the Levite, and the stranger who is among you. (Deuteronomy 26:11)”

Parshat Ki Teitzei - God and the Slaves

"You shall not deliver a slave to his master if he desires refuge with you from his master." (Devarim 23:16)

There is quite a lot of discussion within the rabbinic literature, both ancient and modern, as to the institution of slavery as codified within the Torah. No matter how one understands slavery in the Torah - as an intrinsic value or as a concession to the state of human affairs - one cannot deny that slaves had a better life in the Torah's system than in other ancient societies. One proof of this elevated sense of compassion towards those without societal privilege is the verse quoted above. A runaway slave is not to be compelled back into the brutal arms of their master but rather is accorded sanctuary within your domain.

The next verse continues this conversation and includes a very powerful textual reference that illustrates how profoundly important this mitzvah is. The Torah states that: "Rather, he shall dwell among you, wherever he chooses [bamakom asher yivhar]..." This is the only time the phrase "bamakom asher yivhar" is used in the Torah to refer to a circumstance other than the future site of God's dwelling on earth, the Temple. 

The message is resoundingly clear. The level of investment, effort and the sanctity we accord to the place where God's presence is felt on earth must be matched with the same for how we treat the least amongst us.  

May we strengthen our commitment to the underprivileged and by so doing strengthen our relationship with God.

Parshat Shoftim: The Pursuit of Truth

"Justice, justice shall you pursue..." (Devarim 16:20)

It has been displayed on fliers and on billboards. It has been shouted at rallies and sung at demonstrations. “Tzedek, tzedek tirdof – Justice, justice shall you pursue” became the rallying cry of every social action and social justice Jewish organization around the world. And then it became dull, dry and overused. New phrases had to be implemented, new songs created and new fliers printed in order to replace the once all-popular but now defunct catch phrase of “tzedek, tzedek tirdof.”

What does “tzedek, tzedek tirdof” actually mean? Does it live up to its hype? Rashi understands the phrase to enjoin upon us to seek justice in a proper Beit Din. His reading is based upon the interpretation of the Sifre. This is how Hizkuni, among others, also understand it. The double use of the word tzedek is to teach us that the court we choose to adjudicate our cases must be one which judges with truthful justice.

A Beraitah is quoted in the Gemara in Sanhedrin 32b, that says the same idea eloquently “justice, justice shall you pursue, the same for judgment and for compromise.” A judge is to show no favor, no partiality regardless of the case or the petitioners. Unwavering truthful justice - tzedek tzedek tirdof.

There is another way to read this phrase though and that is the interpretation of Ibn Ezra. He reads the double usage of the word tzedek to emphasize the importance of pursuing righteousness. No matter whether the righteousness “benefits you or harms you". The work of justice is not meant to be a money making scheme or a path to getting rich quickly. On the contrary, it could harm chances for moving up the employment ladder, could distance a person from others and could seriously harm a person's chance for material success. If, on the other hand, it does contribute to the financial success of a person that is fine and not to be looked down upon but that is not the goal of working towards justice.

Perhaps Ibn Ezra's comment on tzedek tzedek tirdof might help us better understand the connection between this verse and the one that follows. The following verse warns Israel to not plant anasherah tree next to the altar. The asherah trees were used for the worship of the pagan mother-goddess asherah but also had a decorative, ornamental function in houses of worship in the ancient world. While the primary reason to not plant an asherah tree near the altar had to do with its idolatrous significance, one does have to wonder about the decorative aspect to it as well.

Ramban suggests that the verse is admonishing Israel not to plant an asherah next to the altar “for beauty and to think that it is an honor and glory for the altar of God.” In other words, to beautify unnecessarily the altar and to distract from the service being performed. One does not need to be beguiled nor distracted when the religious act being performed is one of righteousness and truthfulness.

The thread therefore that runs between tzedek tzedek tirdof and the asherah tree is integrity and truth. Seforno explicitly links the corruptible judge and the asherah tree as matters that are pleasing but despicable for their inner deficiencies. So while this explanation of tzedek tzedek tirdof might not elicit sudden bursts of protest chants or camp songs it sure does convey a powerful message about the qualities of truthfulness, honesty and integrity. In the end it is not the most popular judge nor the most aesthetically beautiful religious practice that wins the day but rather the pursuit of truth no matter its cost is the ideal embodied in those famous words of tzedek tzedek tirdof.   

The Jewish Advocate on the Statement of Principles

The newspaper that covers Boston Jewish life, The Jewish Advocate, has an article this week on the Statement of Principles. As someone who was one of the first to sign the Statement and as a local Boston rabbi I was interviewed for the article. The newspaper only allows access to its articles by subscription so I can only post a few quotes but I encourage those who are in the greater Boston area to subscribe to the Advocate and support a local institution if you have not done so already:

Orthodox Rabbi Benjamin Greenberg of Harvard Hillel – who signed the letter along with his wife, Sharon Weiss-Greenberg– said: “My hope is that any GLBT Jew who is struggling with their orientation will see this letter and realize, ‘There are rabbis who are willing to hear me and will welcome me. I can be who I am.’”

Greenberg said he hoped the letter would help ease the crisis of identity and level of depression among young Orthodox Jews. “I think this letter clearly states the person is to be fully embraced; it’s not just lip service,” he said.

Sharon Weiss-Greenberg said she hoped the letter would spur further acceptance of gays. “Many [Orthodox] communities are at this stage or well beyond this stage, but there are some communities that could learn,” she said. “Leaders in the community should be treating everyone equally, giving someone a hug or inviting someone to your house and showing you’re accepting.”

The full article (subscriber access only) can be found here.