blogs/rabbi-huberman

My father, of blessed memory, had many talents. He was a gifted entrepreneur, and this helped sustain our family. At synagogue, he would lead services with beautiful melodies which dated back to the 1930’s.

But one thing Dad was not particularly good at was—peach farming.

I remember the day when Dad returned from the nursery, and declared “we are going to grow peaches—lots of peaches.” I looked up at him, as a 14 year old, and reminded him, “Dad, we live in Montreal.”

My Mom was equally skeptical. “Leon,” she smiled. “Please don’t give up your day job.” I don’t know where he even found peach trees in the land of hockey, toboggans and six month winters, but Dad remained undeterred.

And over the next four or five years, out of our kitchen window, we watched those three peach trees shiver through Montreal winters. After two years, one of the trees gave up.

The second one survived, but stubbornly, never produced blossoms. But that third tree, the one in the middle, on the fifth year, produced a half dozen blooms and ultimately three peaches—the sweetest I have or will ever eat.

Ultimately, the other two trees succumbed, but I remember my Dad reflecting upon the experiment.

“You see son,” he said. “Anything is possible—if you put your mind to it—even peaches in Montreal. He then paused for a moment, and chuckled, it’s a good thing I never quit my day job to grow peaches. We’d all be slaves.”

It took me a number of years to realize what he meant. As our local Jewish community dwindled, and we not able to afford a rabbi, Dad became our lay leader and once expanded upon his failed peach experiment as he elaborated upon this week’s Torah portion.

The parashah is titled Behar/B’chukottai, and begins at Mount Sinai with God instructing the Israelites to give the earth a year of rest—a Shabbat—every seventh year.

Perhaps few articulated it at the time, but this was God’s way of ensuring that the earth could replenish its nutrients every seventh year.

But then the Torah deals with another law involving sevens. We are told that after 49 years—seven times seven—land that had been put up for collateral—or sold for debts—must be returned to its original owner.

It was the Torah’s way of combatting the feudal system—common centuries ago in the Middle East—where one family or class would perpetually remain in servitude to another.

In ancient times, just like today, many families fell into poverty. Perhaps it was an illness, or misfortune—or a misconceived business idea.

But then the Torah stepped in. It declared a Jubilee Year (Shnat Ha'Yovel) which commanded Israelites to return seized lands to their original owner. Laborers working off debts were released.

Liberated land. Freed slaves. Notes the Torah, “It shall be a jubilee for you. Each of you shall return to his holding and each of you shall return to his family.” (Leviticus 25:12.)

At first glance, this “law of return” appears unfair to the person who loaned the money. But our rabbis offer a different take. They note, that like many debts, financial or spiritual, if the amount owing has not been settled within 49 years, chances are it never will.

The Etz Chaim Torah Commentary notes, “No human should be condemned to permanent servitude.”

The famed Israeli sage Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook (1865-1935) doubled down on this concept. He taught that the Jubilee Year was instituted to “restore a sense of unity that once prevailed in Israel, and to restore self-respect to the person who had sunk into poverty and a sense of failure.”

The Etz Chaim further explains, “In an agrarian society a farmer who sold all his land to pay debts had no prospect of ever being anything but a servant. Nor would a servants sons ever rise above that level.”

Indeed, the tradition of the sabbatical “environmental year” and the practice of the “Jubilee Year” enabled the entire Israelite society to put aside economic competition and restore social unity within the community.

We live in a society which is becoming increasingly transactional. Many vulnerable Americans are facing increasing financial stress as our social support system continues to crumble.

To be clear, Judaism encourages free enterprise and initiative, but it has no tolerance for extreme poverty and homelessness—especially the servitude of one person, family or race to another.

This weekend, many Americans will celebrate Memorial Day. It is time to express our gratitude for those who have served and perished in war.

But this weekend also marks a dark period in American history. It was exactly 104 years ago, during Memorial Day weekend that the African-American business district of Tulsa was burned to the ground.

There are those who claimed it was retribution for a black shoeshine boy who allegedly assaulted a white woman, but based on many documentaries and retrospectives, the pogrom was based more on a seething desire to level what was then known as “Black Wall Street,” thus returning the African American community to a condition of poverty and dependency.

The Torah had its way of predicting these types of injustices. It enacted a series of laws and practices to anticipate and alleviate the misery and economic stagnation of future generations.

Within modern society we too need to support efforts to alleviate inequality, while encouraging personal initiative and hard work. One year, when this parashah came around, my Dad—obviously exaggerating his failed agrarian project—reflected, “thank goodness I never became a peach farmer."

Indeed, many good ideas and business proposals fail to achieve success, but as the Torah teaches this week—whether it is financial bondage or even a grudge or spiritual debt, there comes a time to begin anew.

The Jubilee Year provided a chance for new beginnings. For slavery is something that Judaism detests.

Indeed, the Jubilee Year was God’s way of declaring that each person deserves a second chance, and each one of us is entitled to our freedom—and so do those yet to be born

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv,

Rabbi Irwin Huberman