Rabbi Micah Citrin

September 1, 2006

Torah's Concern for the Poor

            It is no secret around here that I am huge Los Angeles Dodger fan.  In fact, as we head into the season of Teshuvah and repentance, I would declare before all of you that I am an unrepentant Dodger fan.  But, for the most part that is where my affinity for Los Angeles begins and ends.  Last weekend Karen and I were in Los Angeles for a wedding.  Being back in Los Angeles reminded me of some parts of L.A. that I find less appealing.  For example, stepping off the plane and being bombarded with billboards and various types of media that remind us that image is everything. 

            On the evening that Karen and I landed we met my family at a steak restaurant in Beverly Hills .  The little restaurant to which my grandfather took us was located down a small alley.  But this was not just any alley.  This alley was a tributary of the famous Rodeo Drive , the upscale shopping district of Beverly Hills.  Upon arriving on Rodeo, I was reminded of another aspect of Los Angeles that I always found difficult to wrap my mind around, the overwhelming amount of wealth.  After dinner as we strolled past Gucci and Louis Vuitton, up scale art galleries and designer shops that one only sees on life styles of the rich and famous, I realized that the mannequins in the window, dressed to the nines, had a greater net worth than me.  Net worth, not self worth, I said over and over in my head. 

            This encounter with Rodeo and seemingly unlimited wealth can be intoxicating.  It is a place where one can fall in love with image, as the imagination puts you behind the wheel of a Ferrari or Bently, dressed in a summery outfit designed in Italy .    But then the dissonance sets in.  Not more that a few miles east of Rodeo Drive and Beverly Hills is Downtown Los Angeles, home to skid row and home to hundreds with no home.  There are neighborhoods where people work two jobs as they struggle to make ends meet.  Some work in sweatshop conditions in L.A. ’s garment district.  They work in low paying jobs in hotels and restaurants.

            Life in Los Angeles is a tale of two cities, one gleaming city of glitz, glamour, and wealth and the other, a city of poverty, of people working with the sweat of their brow unable to subside.  But L.A. is not unique; it is a microcosm of the state of life in American today.  On the one hand America is a cornucopia over flowing with bounty.  Many of us are blessed to partake in this bounty.  On the other hand, along side the cornucopia is an America that lacks, food, shelter, and the means to have a self sustaining life.  According to census bureau numbers released this week, 12.6% or 37 million Americans live in poverty.  The severely poor or those who earn less than $11,000 a year for a family of four have grown by 20% over the last 4 years.  And this is the fastest growing segment of poor in America .  We should be concerned about those who will undoubtedly fill the ranks of the poor as more and more become severely poor.  The income for the median family just one year ago was $1,700 less than it was in 2000.  And according to Dr. Steven Woolf of Virginia Commonwealth University , the only demographic that is earning significantly more money are the wealthiest 10% of Americans.

            Judaism is not a religion of asceticism or denouncing the material world.  Having wealth and building wealth so that one might have a good life is nothing of which to be ashamed.  Yet, our covenant demands that we do so within ethical bounds, and cares about how we are stewards of that wealth.  Our Torah reminds us that we have individual and societal obligations toward those in need.  This week’s portion, Ki Tetze, emphasizes our responsibility toward those in need, toward those who are most vulnerable in our society.  In light of the recent numbers on the state of poverty in America , there are three verses in this portion that would raise our consciousness as Americans and as Jews.

            The first text governs the relationship between creditor and debtor.  When one person makes a loan to another, Torah assumes that the creditor will take a form of collateral to guarantee the loan that he made.  But Torah also places an obligation of responsibility on the creditor.  Deuteronomy 24:12-13 states, “If he [the debtor] is a needy man, you shall not go to sleep in his pledge; you must return the pledge to him at sundown, that he may sleep in his cloth and bless you; and it will be to your merit before Adonai your God.”  The Torah seems to suggest that there is a higher value than the pure laws of the market.  It would seem to perfectly reasonable that the creditor not return the debtor’s guarantee until he is repaid.  But Torah imagines that the needy man may only have one material possession to secure a loan, and that possession may be his livelihood.  Torah privileges the value of the needy man’s dignity, safety and security to the unchecked laws of the marketplace.  The creditor is obliged to behave with these concerns in mind.     

            The second text speaks to the relationship between the employer and the worker.  Deuteronomy 24:14-15 states, “You shall not abuse a needy laborer, whether a fellow countryman or a stranger in one of the communities of your land.  You must pay him his wages on the same day, before the sun sets, for he is needy and urgently depends on it; else he will cry out to Adonai against you and you will incur guilt.”  Torah knows that it can be all too easy to take advantage of a worker who has little; little in economic terms, perhaps even skills.  Reading this text today one encounters the timeless nature of Torah.  Thousands of years after the revelation of Torah, we still live in a society in which the laborer is too often abused.  In Maryland right now there is a law suit against employers from Louisiana who have yet to pay workers for reconstruction work in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.  Many of these workers were undocumented foreigners, and yet our Torah demands that such workers are to be treated fairly, that they have a right to their wages at the end of the day.  Who will speak up for the destitute worker?  Who should stand up in the face of such abuse?  The Torah points to us.  We are the ones who are supposed to guard against such exploitation.  Such is the expectation of any Jew who is him or herself an employer.  But it is also an obligation for anyone who enjoys clothes stitched by tailors, clean hotel rooms, and produce in our supermarkets.  It becomes an obligation for anyone who can vote in order to make sure that low wage workers are paid when the sun goes down, and that at the end of the day it is a fair wage, a livable wage, not a meaningless or symbolic wage that keeps a person anchored to poverty.

            The third text underlines a familiar theme in Torah, to leave parts of one’s field unharvested for the needy.  Deuteronomy 24:19-22 directs the farmer gleaning in his field, grove, or vineyard to leave forgotten or overlooked produce for the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.  When the harvest basket is left in the field, it no longer belongs to the owner; it belongs to those in need.    The great 19^th century modern Orthodox rabbi Sampson Rafael Hirsch explains what is behind this verse.  We writes, “The gifts to the poor constitute a contrast, a protest against the concept of ‘Mine’.”  The corners [leaving them for the poor] and the gleanings remind you of your duty not to regard your field and vineyard as your own and exclusively your own and not to monopolize all that nature with God’s blessing has grown for you.”  This text reminds me of the Albatrosses in the cartoon movie FINDING NEMO.  Whenever the Albatrosses would appear on screen, motivated by their appetites, they would squawk, “Mine, mine, mine.”  This law reminds us not to be like the Albatross, thus becoming albatrosses to society as our sense of entitlement spirals out of control.

            It is not easy to be a Jew.  It is not easy to be a Jew because our Torah makes significant demands on us.  It calls us to go beyond natural human instincts and to strive for holiness by thinking of the other.  As we approach the New Year and consider our own actions and that of our communities, we might also reflect on our attitudes and obligations to those who have less than we do.  My prayer is that we take the lessons of this parasha into the New Year, that the Torah values safety and dignity of the poor and vulnerable trump the laws of the market and should guide us in our economic behavior; that we are not to abuse or take advantage of the needy worker-either directly or by proxy; and that what we think is ours by virtue of ownership is not a right but a privilege and blessing.  And why does God want us to observe these mitzvot? Because as this portion repeatedly teaches, we must always remember that we were slaves in Egypt , this is the salve that prevents calluses of the heart.