At the heart of this week’s Torah reading are two verses
about poverty. First comes the statement, “There shall be no destitute people
among you.” (Deut 15:4) and then a mere seven verses later, “There shall be no
end to destitute people among you,” (Deut 15.11) and that second verse
continues with the command “surely open your heart to your fellow,” and other
instructions on the relief of destitution.
Surely, it’s backwards? Surely the better order of verses
would be to start with destitution and the idea that if we support the relief of
destitution appropriately – we might eventually reach a place where it no
longer exists.
I caught an interesting reflection on the problem in a DevarTorah by Rabbi Lauren Henderson. She suggests that justice, the relief of
poverty, has to begin with an act of imagination. We need to start from a
position of imagining a world of fairness, equality and possibility for all – a
world of no destitution. And then we need to shoulder the obligation to match
our dreams with our actions – there is no end to destitution, so open your
hand. The pursuit of justice begins with a vision of a just world.
As is so often the case, the experience of walking the
streets is its own kind of Torah. There is a poor person begging. I open my
hand (on those occasions when I do) to give them a few pennies and I shuffle on
my way. But that encounter – as necessary as it might be – fails to connect
with a vision of the end of destitution. It’s not enough. I need to be niggled
by my failure to match a charitable act with a vision of a just world. I need
to do more.
Rabbi Lauren’s reflection sits beautifully in the context of
the rest of Chapter 15 of Deuteronomy where the laws of the Seventh Year – the
Sabbatical of rest – are articulated. New visions can arise only when we take a
moment to pause and reflect. It makes sense in a time of Covid where we have
all been forced to reflect, re-evaluate and, hopefully, re-imagine our futures.
It makes sense at this point in the calendar where so many of us are
experiencing the change of pace of the deep summer, recharging and reflecting
on how to shoulder the obligations of the upswing of the year to come. This is
the last Shabbat before the new moon of Elul. Rosh Hashanah is coming. Can we
hear that distant Shofar call as a summons to dream, first, of a just world and
our place in it?
Rabbi Lauren wrote her Devar Torah for T’ruah, an extraordinary organisation in
the US, which articulates and works towards the vision of justice envisioned by
Deuteronomy. I recommend signing up for their Torah https://truah.org/
and I’ve given, this Shabbat, to support their vision.
Justice may need to begin in reverse.
Shabbat Shalom
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