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Our Past in Present Tense
Two Approaches to Poverty
Dr.
Yehuda Shabatay
San
Diego Jewish Times, March 24, 2006
SAN DIEGO—At this moment our federal and state legislators
struggle with the huge deficits they anticipate in the current and in the
forthcoming
budget years. In their attempt to reduce those deficits, they are making drastic
cuts in allocations to the needy, reducing the availability of medical services,
affordable housing, subsidies for low-income working mothers, and care for their
children, to mention just a few areas affected by the cuts. When one of the
federal legislators objected to that approach, invoking religious beliefs, he
was attacked for daring to inject religion into politics — as
if no one else would have done it before.
Since I am not a politician, nor do I intend to become one,
allow me to summarize what Judaism has to say about our obligation to those who
need
our help. The very first idea I recall is that nowhere do our traditional
sources mention “charity.” The Hebrew word tzedakah, the Bible and the
post-biblical literary works use all the time, is rooted in tzedek, which means
“justice” — a completely different approach from tossing a few crumbs
to the hungry. For it is unjust to enable the rich to get richer while an
ever-larger proportion of our fellow citizens struggles to make ends meet. Each
Yom Kippur we remind ourselves that the proper path to the divine is not through
fasting, or “bowing the head like a bulrush,” as the prophetic portion we
read on that day puts it. God’s first and foremost expectation is that we
“unlock the fetters of wickedness… let the oppressed go free… share our
bread with the hungry… take the wretched poor into our home. When we see the
naked, clothe him, and do not ignore our own kin” (Isaiah 58:5-7).
The prophet Ezekiel went a giant step forward when he called
his fellow exiles in Babylonia “daughters of Sodom.” He maintained that the
Kingdom
of Judah was destroyed because of its citizens’ arrogance. They had “plenty
of bread and untroubled tranquility, yet they did not support the poor and the
needy” (16:49). How much support should they have given to those less
fortunate than they were? The prophet does not indicate. But the Talmudic rabbis
assured their followers that “no one has ever been impoverished by giving
tzedakah” (Ketubot 68a). Perhaps we ought to bring this statement to our
legislators’ attention, particularly the ones who are convinced that tax cuts
for the rich are fully justified, and to compensate for such cuts the
allocations to the poor, the sick, and the aged should be decreased.
The next idea that comes to my mind is that while
“charity” is voluntary, some fundamental rules of tzedakah are legislated in
the Torah. Thus it is obligatory to leave “the edges of the field,” some of
the gleanings of the harvest, and the fallen fruit of the vineyard for the poor
and the stranger (Leviticus 19:9-10; 23:22). On the other hand, it is up to each
landowner to decide how wide the “edges of his field” will be and how many
gleanings and fallen fruit he will leave for his fellow human beings. By the
way, it is important to note that the beneficiaries could be not only
Israelites, but “strangers” as well, as the Book of Ruth amply illustrates
(2:1-12).
In the spirit of these precepts, our ancestors established
revolutionary institutions in the past couple of millennia. Since Israel was
expected to
become “a kingdom of priests, a holy nation” (Exodus 19:6) by following
God’s laws, education was recognized as the foremost instrument by
which one could attain that lofty goal. Thus, by the first century BCE, all
boys, rich and poor, attended school from an early age on, while the girls’
education was each family’s responsibility. Gradually, other institutions were
established to meet the needs of the sick, the aged, the homeless, and the
hungry as well. Documents indicate that already in 14th century
Spain, Bikur Holim societies did far more than “visiting the sick” — as
their name indicated. They also provided physicians, medications, and nursing
care to the poor. After the Jews were expelled from Spain, they spread these
institutions all over Europe and established homes for the aged wherever they
lived. Moreover, soup kitchens distributed food to the hungry, and community
funds made provisions for the needy to celebrate each holy day joyfully. The
latter must have been done already in ancient days, because
the Book of Esther clearly indicates that Purim was “an occasion for sending
gifts to one another and presents to the poor” (9:23).
The concept of tzedakah was adopted by Christianity and Islam
as well. When the Gospel of Matthew describes the Great Judgment, it says that
all those will be accursed who turn away from the needy. “I was hungry and you
gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a
stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing,
sick and in prison and you did not visit me” (25:41-43). Similarly,
zakah (or: “alms,” like tzedakah,) is one of the five pillars of Islam.
According to a well-known scholar, “zakah is a vivid manifestation of the
spiritual and humanitarian spirit of responsive interactions between the
individual and society” (H. Abdalati, Islam in Focus, p. 95). Like the Torah,
the Koran does not set specific amounts for contributions, though later Islamic
tradition suggests at least 2.5% of one’s possessions at the end of each year.
Accordingly, while I am a strong believer in the concept of
separation between “Church and State,” I suggest that our legislators —
believers, as well as non-believers — take a good look at the noble teachings
of all religions. Society cannot be considered successful because the number of
billionaires increases rapidly. (I understand that we have more than 700 of them
right now — many times more than even a decade ago.) Count the homeless in our
midst who will soon be tossed out of their temporary winter shelters. See the
children who would starve without school meals, the widows in desperate need of
affordable housing, and the tens of millions of low-income citizens who have no
medical insurance — and then determine how to handle the budget deficits in
the current and the coming years.
Dr. Yehuda Shabatay received rabbinical training in Budapest, a master of jurisprudence degree from the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and his doctorate in Hebrew literature from the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in New York. He was engaged in Jewish educational administration over most of his career and now teaches Jewish studies and history at Palomar College and San Diego State University.