blogs/rabbi-huberman

One of my most remarkable moments as a rabbinical student occurred when—during my first month of classes—I was challenged by one of my teachers.

Recently, I came across an astonishing statistic.

In wealthy countries—particularly the United States—around 40 percent of food sold in supermarkets is eventually thrown out by consumers.

In the US alone, that amounts to about $160 billion.

We are a nation of largesse. We like our large portions, especially in restaurants, and—as we are all aware—much of those overstuffed sandwiches and entrees are often returned to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, according to Feed America, in this country, more than 47 million people face daily hunger, including one in five children.

There was a time when we strived to achieve an equitable society, where food and housing were accessible to all.

But lately, a new national vision—too often endorsed by politicians, and even religious leaders—has emerged. In recent years, a new, warped version of religion has surfaced—the so-called Prosperity Gospel—promoted by some who preach that God rewards faith financially.

But Judaism has a different take.

While the Torah acknowledges that “there will always be poor in the land,” Judaism has no tolerance for extreme hunger and homelessness.

About 20 years ago, our daughter, Sarah—while researching her Cambridge doctorate on the return of the Jews to England in the mid-1650s—came across the minutes of the community’s initial minutes.

One of the first agenda items was the establishment of a society for “Gimilut Chasadim,” acts of loving kindness.

It was manifested through the idea of “tzedakah,” charity, an expansion of the word “tzedek,” meaning justice or balance. The returning Jews established a charitable network, and even launched England’s first maternity hospital ward, accessible to the poor.

In this week’s Torah portion we are introduced to many laws. Some relate to supporting the poor. We are told to pay our workers on time, and not to place a stumbling block in front of the blind.

We are commanded to honor our neighbors as ourselves.

But then comes a remarkable commandment, which provides a “how to” in order to put these concepts into action. God commands us to “leave the corners of our fields…for the poor and stranger.”

Our rabbis expand upon this reminding us to leave a portion of whatever we produce for others. It is not about charity. It is about the God-given gifts we enjoy.  It is about tzedek—justice and balance.

During our congregation’s seven trips to Israel, we have always paused at a farmer’s field to pick vegetables in support of those in need. 

The Israeli national food bank, Lecket, feeds more than 415,000 recipients each year, almost entirely with food that has never been taken out of the packaging—from bar mitzvahs and weddings, or school and corporate cafeterias.

Food that would otherwise been wasted.

Today, across the world, more than 16,000 children will die of starvation. Thirty million will perish this year.

As my wife frequently reminds me, “There is enough food to feed everyone in this country and the world, if we would just manage it wisely.”

These are not the words of a dreamer. It is the Jewish view to encourage hard work and ethical commerce—but it also stresses—36 times in the Torah—that the stranger, widow and orphan should not be left behind.

The Torah formalized it into a system that leaves the corners of our fields for those who are hungry.

And this idea has evolved over the centuries. We are no longer farmers. But in 2025, we can support agencies like Feed Israel, Lecket, Island Harvest and Nosh to help combat food insecurity.

The Torah speaks this week about treating others the way we want to be treated.

From our slavery in Egypt throughout Jewish history, there have been times when our parents, grandparents and those before them have experienced homelessness and hunger.

It’s something to consider this week, as we come to grips with the increasing prevalence of political harshness and indifference.

Let the words of the Torah inspire us to soften our hearts. Regardless of our political affiliation, each of us can click on a link and safe a life.

It begins with reducing waste, volunteering and donating to organizations that support those who are unhoused and hungry—at home, in Israel and around the world.

Hunger is not a sign of laziness. It is a fact of life within this current climate of economic challenge.

As the Torah reminds us, we have a responsibility to sustain the widow, orphan and stranger, for we are all descendants of Adam and Eve. We are all precious in God’s sight.

Therefore, let us follow the commandment laid out this week in the Torah—to just leave a corner of what we produce for those in need.

Judaism teaches us—each in our own way—to play a part in the repair of the world. That is Judaism’s central mission.

To honor others the way we wish to be honored.

To preserve and protect life—wherever life may be.

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman