Perashat Re'eh 5776

Perashat Re'eh 5776

Among the many ritual and ethical laws found in Perashat Re'eh, is that of Shemittah, the Sabbatical year.  This law requires the People of Israel to leave their land, in the Land of Israel, fallow - unworked - every seventh year; neither sowing nor pruning nor reaping nor harvesting.  The land is allowed to "rest" and fruits and vegetables are "free" for the taking.  The Torah tells us that the land in the Land of Israel may never be sold or owned forever, for the land itself belongs to G-d; we are merely residents and occupants of the land.

However, there is one critical detail in the law of Shemittah, the Sabbatical year.  Not only must each landowner relinquish his ownership of the land by not "working" it and by allowing any passersby to benefit from its produce, he must also release his debtors from repaying their loans at the end of the seventh year. This is known as the law of Shemitat Kesafim. 
Many modern Bible scholars understand this to mean that the Torah is merely calling for an extension - and not a cancellation of the loan.  They reason that since the farmer cannot harvest and sell his excess produce this year due to the Shemittah - then how can we expect him to repay a loan.  It follows, therefore, that a creditor must wait until the end of the eighth year, after the following harvest, to press for repayment.  However, our Sages did notinterpret Shemittah as a temporary suspension of the loan - but rather as acomplete cancellation of the loan, and an opportunity for every debtor to start afresh, emerging from the Sabbatical year with a "clean slate."   

The question arises:  Is this really fair?  Can the Torah really expect creditors to wipe out their IOUs in the Sabbatical year?  While it is true that the Sages allowed one to make a prozbul, an arrangement where the loan would be made through the Bet Din, the religious court, and therefore would not have to be rescinded during the seventh year - Biblical law would still require - even today - that creditors cancel personal loans.  What is the basis for this requirement?

Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, chief rabbi of Efrat, explains that the answer is to be found in the literal reading of the passage which forbids taking interest on loans: 
אם כסף תלוה את עמי את העני עמך לא תהיה לו כנשה לא תשימון עליו נשך. אם חבל תחבל שלמת רעך עד בא השמש תשיבנו לו. כי היא כסותה לבדה היא שמלתו לערו במי ישכב והיה כי יצעק אליו שמעתי כי חנון אני
"If you lend money to any of my people with you who is poor, you shall not be a creditor to him, nor shall you lay upon him interest.  If you take your neighbor's garment as a pledge, you shall deliver it to him by sundown; For that is his only covering; it is the garment for his skin.  Where shall he sleep?  And it shall come to pass, when he cries out to me, that I will hear him, for I am compassionate."  [Ex. 22:24-26]  

The Ohr Ha-hayyim Ha-kadosh explains that one who is in a position to provide a loan has been blessed by the Almighty with surplus funds and has been given that money in trust - as a test.   This was money that was supposed to go to the poor in the first place!  Thus, you are forbidden from charging this needy person interest - since this really is his rightful money to begin with.  Therefore, it follows, that not only does "our" land belong to G-d, but also "our" funds really belong to Him as well, and He expects us to distribute them fairly!   It is not what we have - which is significant, but it is what we do with it.  Who we are depends in great measure on what we give to others and what we do for society and for our community.  As the late President John F. Kennedy said, "Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country."

Rabbi Riskin relates a story, told to him by Victor Alhadeff - one of the lay leaders of the Seattle Sephardic community.  Eight extremely wealthy non-observant Jews took a trip to Israel for the first time.  As they toured the country, word got out that these were affluent men, and so they were approached by many seeking donations for their institutions. They were not impressed by most of these requests, and naturally did not open their hearts or the checkbooks to these causes.  They were then taken to a yeshiba, whose representative promised that they would be taught Torah in the Bet Midrash for one hour by English-speaking yeshiba students - and that there would be no appeal for funds.  After a fascinating hour, the elderly Rosh Yeshiba, an ill and frail man, rose to greet them.  He said, "I know that you are busy and have no patience for long speeches.  You have visited our yeshiba and studied with our students - all very dedicated, all very poor; living literally from hand to mouth.  Permit me to leave you with one thought.  I spent the Holocaust in a concentration camp.  We were eight people in one bunk who were cruelly pushed to work with rigor and almost without food for 16 hours a day.  We came back at night to a freezing room with only one blanket.  What did we... what could we do?  We shared !"  The old Rosh Yeshiba sat down.  His lesson was clear; this is the lesson of the Torah.  True Hesed, true kindness, is to share with our fellow man.  Something to think about as we enter into the month of Elul - Rahamim - the month of mercy, in which we begin to entreat Almighty G-d to forgive our sins and trespasses and inscribe us in the Book of Life for the coming year.  There can be no doubt that Divine forgiveness begins with how we treat our fellow man.   

Shabbat Shalom and Tizku L'Shanim Rabbot,
Rabbi Daniel Greenwald