Parashat Behar-Bechukotai by Seth Pertain, High School Talmud Teacher
Ask not what others can do for you, but what you can do for others . . .
If I could sum up our goal for the sophomore experience, that would be it. Our sophomores have spent the year learning about homelessness and poverty. One piece that stands out to me every year is when people experiencing (or who have experienced) homelessness explain to our students that they can sit in a park for days on end, have thousands of people walk past them, yet not have a single human interaction in that time. Last week, our sophomores had the opportunity to interact with people experiencing homelessness on the streets of Washington, DC before going to meet with their representatives to lobby on behalf of those who are in greatest need. They returned having heard people’s stories, having learned their names, having given them a few minutes to talk and have human company.
The seeds of this exploration are planted in Parshat Behar. (We’re also reading Bechukotai this week, but I’ll save my thoughts on that parashah for another year). Many of the laws of tzedakah can be traced back to this week’s parashah. Tzedakah is often translated as “charity,” but in fact it comes from the word “justice.” What I find most interesting is that the Torah goes beyond telling us, "do this, do that." In three separate instances, Behar starts out with the words "When your brother falls on hard times . . . ” In each of those instances, we are told not only what we need to do to help him out, but also how he must be treated. The laws are designed to humanize someone who is facing a dehumanizing experience. They are not a "poor person." They are "your brother." We must bail them out, loan them money (without interest), provide for their basic needs, but we are prohibited from treating them as people who are in debt to us. The Torah makes it clear that we are expected to make an effort to restore their humanity and give them a chance.
Interestingly, later we are taught that we will never be able to solve the issues of poverty in their entirety, “for the needy will never cease to exist in the land; therefore I command you saying, 'You must open your hand to your brother, to your poor, and to your destitute in your land.'" (Deuteronomy 15:11). Our responsibility will never be a one-time quick fix.
These commandments become principles that undergird our message to the sophomores throughout the course of the year and their trip. If we get it right, it is a transformative experience for them. But that can only be the case when teachers are open to it being a transformative experience for us as well. Having grown with our students through these experiences, I can tell you today that Marcel is the homeless man who looks for help on the corner where I get off the highway every day. Pam lives on the street in the mid to upper 80s (often on Broadway), and never misses the opportunity to wish me “Shabbat Shalom” — no matter what day of the week, no matter whether I saw her initially, or not. Sarah used to look for help on Emek Refaim in Jerusalem, and two years ago transitioned to the Shuk (she was born in Iran and moved to Israel over 40 years ago). I have no insights as to how to help any of them overcome the challenges of poverty. However, something about our interactions seems to make them happy to see me — even when I have nothing to give them.
The sooner we recognize that every human being has a story, and we take the time to learn it, they become "our brother." And the more "brothers" and "sisters" that we add to our lives, the more fortunate we all become!
Shabbat Shalom
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Interestingly, later we are taught that we will never be able to solve the issues of poverty in their entirety, “for the needy will never cease to exist in the land; therefore I command you saying, 'You must open your hand to your brother, to your poor, and to your destitute in your land.'" (Deuteronomy 15:11). Our responsibility will never be a one-time quick fix.
These commandments become principles that undergird our message to the sophomores throughout the course of the year and their trip. If we get it right, it is a transformative experience for them. But that can only be the case when teachers are open to it being a transformative experience for us as well. Having grown with our students through these experiences, I can tell you today that Marcel is the homeless man who looks for help on the corner where I get off the highway every day. Pam lives on the street in the mid to upper 80s (often on Broadway), and never misses the opportunity to wish me “Shabbat Shalom” — no matter what day of the week, no matter whether I saw her initially, or not. Sarah used to look for help on Emek Refaim in Jerusalem, and two years ago transitioned to the Shuk (she was born in Iran and moved to Israel over 40 years ago). I have no insights as to how to help any of them overcome the challenges of poverty. However, something about our interactions seems to make them happy to see me — even when I have nothing to give them.
The sooner we recognize that every human being has a story, and we take the time to learn it, they become "our brother." And the more "brothers" and "sisters" that we add to our lives, the more fortunate we all become!
Shabbat Shalom
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