Sabbatical of the Torah and Corona Behar -Bechukotai

In this 2008 photo a resident of Holon, Israel,
announcing that the fruits on the trees in his
backyard are hefker (abandoned property) on the
occasion of shnat shmita, the Sabbatical year. 

At this terrible time for those who lost their lives or livelihoods it would seem wrong to talk about anything else. However, alongside care for those who are suffering, there are other valid concerns such as the emotional wellbeing and spiritual development of all people.

People like me still have jobs and our health. Yet, there is something that feels a bit off for me. It is hard to put my finger on it. I feel disoriented after not having gone to the office for two months and a little detached from the world of work, despite working long hours.

I wonder if this “disruption” might lead to a social reset so that when it is over we might be better for having been through this. My colleague, Shaykh Wesam Charkawi thinks it is possible. He wrote that “in this current time, people are faced with a situation that [forces them]... to disengage from the general worldly interactions into the sphere of “tajrid”, …similar to what the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) did when he went into the cave to contemplate and reflect” (1).

The Torah’s process of a Sabbatical year once every seven years has some interesting parallels to our current experience. The Sabbatical year requires withdrawal from harvesting, planting and any way of showing ownership of one’s land (2). Instead of the normal farming process, the people were meant to live off their savings and surplus from other years and to share whatever grew by itself between landowners, all people and animals.

While some would explain the Sabbatical as a form of land management (3) this seems implausible in light of the emphasis on this practice as a Sabbath for God (4). Instead, it is explained as a year of withdrawal of one's focus from material matters, to be redirected to spiritual ones (5). It is a time for finding joy in both body and soul, in reading the Torah and away from the hassles of business (6). 

The Sabbatical year is a time for developing the capacity to let go and be more relaxed about ownership of our possessions, to relinquish control, and have faith that things will be OK (7). While private ownership is legitimate according to the Torah, it exists side by side with an obligation to ensure that the poor also have what they need. The Sabbatical year that loosens the grip of owners on their land for a year is meant to be a time for reinforcing caring for the poor. This link is clear when this practice is introduced in the Torah. It states: “Six years you shall sow your land and gather in its yield; but in the seventh [year] you shall let it rest and lie fallow. Let the needy among your people eat of it, and what they leave let the wild beasts eat” (8).

Desmond Tutu said, “I am not interested in picking up crumbs of compassion thrown from the table of someone who considers himself my master. I want the full menu of rights.” There is something of this spirit in one tradition of the Sabbatical that forbids owners displaying ownership of their crops by gathering the produce into their homes and then distributing some of these to the poor. Instead the owner is told that by right they should be required to smash breaches in their farm fences, so that the poor can help them to produce as equals to the owners (9).

At its heart, the Sabbatical year is a radical ritual of disruption of the normal order of things. In addition to not working the land, all debts were meant to be forgiven. It has been described as “a harsh, severe and far-reaching reminder, the test of which, in reality, the people of Israel “never [fully] withstood”… instead finding and creating loopholes to get around at least some of the requirements (10).  One of my favourite stories in the Talmud involves priests working the land during the Sabbatical year, two scholars making excuses for them while their fiery colleague points out their failure to adhere to the rules of this ambitious social experiment (11).

There is a real risk that when this time is over we will all go back to normal in the sense of having learned nothing from it. I hope this is not the case. Over the long term, it is vital that we all learn to balance a sense of ownership of that which we are fortunate to have, with solidarity for our neighbours and fellow human beings so that all have what they need.  

Notes

1) Charkawi, Shaykh Wesam, 5/5/20 on Facebook.

2) Leviticus 25:2-7, see rashi.

3) Maimonides in the Guide for the Perplexed 3:39, also cited in Klei Yakar to Leviticus 25:2

4) Kli Yakar ibid.

5) Seforno  to Leviticus 25:2

6) Torat HaChido, p. 118.

7)  Sefer Hachinuch, p 193, Mitzvah 84, and as adapted by Alex Israel in a Facebook post 11.05.20.

8) Exodus 23:10-11 See Lichtenstein, A. https://www.etzion.org.il/en/shiur-22-conceptual-foundations-shemita

9) Mechilta, In Torah Shlaima, p.187, 140.

10) Lichtenstein, A. ibid, here refers to Pruzbul and Heter Mechira.

11) Sanhedrin 26a.

Muslim Atheist Christian Jew and African American Living and playing Together For Humanity (Not in) Retreat

The setting was a cottage in the Blue Mountains, complete with a wood fireplace in the lounge room. The cast of characters included; a 21 year old female African American, a student of criminal justice; a 26 year old Australian, a Muslim man of Lebanese heritage; myself, a Jewish man more than twice their age; three women with young children including a Catholic teacher, of Croatian heritage; an atheist social worker of Hungarian heritage; and a Hijab wearing Muslim of Cocos Island and Anglo heritage; as well as another male teacher, of German and Peruvian heritage. This was the Interfaith, Intercultural Together for Humanity retreat.

Instead of talking about our work, we lived and played our message of building inclusive diverse community. Not only are there foods that the Muslim participants and I are forbidden to eat; for me, even the cooking utensils need to be Kosher. So I used a sandwich-maker to cook Kosher and Halal pumpkin and eggplant, lentil burgers and scrambled eggs. The three males cooked dinner one night, with the youngest, a newly married man, cooking a delicious pumpkin soup. As is so often the case, despite the men’s efforts to clean up during and after cooking, the women unfortunately ended up with the lion’s share of the cleaning up.    

Prayers were done quietly in another room, with people disappearing at various times. Otherwise, religion came up informally. We played a game together called ‘Apples to Apples -Jewish Children’s edition’ that I sometimes play with my kids on a Saturday afternoon. Each participant got 5 red cards that had a word on them that is part of the world of a Jewish child. The play involved selecting one of these cards to match with a green card that contained an adjective. I wondered if the unfamiliar cultural references would make the game fail or provide a glimpse into my world and spark cross-cultural conversation. Fortunately, it certainly turned out to be the latter.

In our game, one of the red cards referred to the festival of Shavuot. The card sparked a conversation about how my family celebrates Shavuot, with a dairy meal with blintzes with mushrooms and cheese, and lots of ice cream. Often, Shavuot afternoon is spent in front of a live wood fire, just as we did in our mountain cottage. Another card referred to queen Vashti, who refused to appear naked before her husband’s drunken friends to show off her beauty. This led to sharing perspectives on women standing up to unreasonable men. Perspectives on gender politics were exchanged, along with personal and family stories, late into the night. We learned a lot about each other’s’ families. Some of it was funny, some of it was sad. While I sensibly went to bed at 11, others talked till 1 am.

Names were the topic of another conversation. One man’s migrant German father was insistent on assimilating his family into Australian culture. Rosario became Sharon or Shazza. And a ‘fat lot of good’ it did for the high school aged son, who was emphatically told he was a ‘wog’, and not Australian. Worse still, despite his grandfather having been a partisan who fought Hitler, the bullying of the grandson included giving him the nickname Nazi! It was even printed on the back of his year 12 jersey.

We had a great bushwalk in the mountains together. But I also went back into the forest alone. My heart was filled with a feeling of connectedness, and my mind was mulling over a disturbing story from the weekly Torah reading, about a man who was put to death for collecting firewood on the Sabbath (1). Like the altruistic bunch in the cottage, according to the sages, this man was an idealist (2). The context of his collecting these sticks was that he was 'in the desert' (3). His people had failed to have faith in God’s Promised Land, so they were condemned to never leave the bleak desert and see the realization of their dreams (4). In that case, they reasoned, there was little point in continuing the practices that lead to a better world. Just throw in the towel and forget about the Sabbath. One man, our wood collector, wanted to be test case for the Sabbath, to show that the practices must continue and he was prepared to die to demonstrate that the Sabbath was still to be taken seriously. He is praised for his effort (5).

There are reasons to be pessimistic about the degree to which the human family is ever going to achieve the “Promised land”, of true acceptance and affirmation of all people, in all our diversity. It often feels more like a long term stay in the desert than an imminent arrival in the lush forests of the Blue Mountains. However, regardless of where we are right now, or what the short term prospects are for achieving our dreams, we can and indeed we must continue to live and play this vision. 

Notes

1)    Numbers 15:32-36.

2)    Midrash, cited in Tosafot, on Bava Basra 119b, Dibbur Hamaschil Afilu.

3)    Numbers 15:32.The fact that the text mentions their presence explicitly despite this being obvious is pointed out by the Chida in Torat Hachida, 66, p. 91.

4)    Numbers 13:1-14:35.

5)    This interpretation is based on the Midrash above and the Chida in Torat Hachida, 66, 71, 72 p. 91-93.