Timeless Torah

Tucked away in today’s Torah reading, almost as an aside, is one of Judaism’s most majestic institutions, the principle of tzedakah. “If there is a poor man...in any of the towns of the land...do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted...rather, be open-handed...”
Historically, tzedakah lies at the heart of Judaism’s interpersonal duties. Indeed, G-d singles out Abraham to be the founder of a new faith, “So that he will direct his children and his household after him to keep the way of the L-rd by doing what is right and just (tzedakah u-mishpat).”
The two words that define the singular way of the L-rd, tzedakah and mishpat, are quite different. Mishpat refers to the rule of law, through which disputes are settled by right rather than might. It establishes a set of rules, binding on all. It is no coincidence that G-d reveals Himself primarily in a religion of laws, for Judaism is concerned not merely with salvation for the soul but also with redemption for society (as a vehicle for the divine presence).
But mishpat alone cannot create a good society. To it must be added tzedakah. One can imagine a society which fastidiously observes the rule of law, and yet contains so much inequality that wealth is concentrated into the hands of the few, while many are left without basic requirements. That some may live in palaces while others go homeless is not the kind of order that the Torah contemplates. So while there must be mishpat in how G-d’s law is applied, there must also be tzedakah in how His blessings are distributed. Biblical society was primarily agricultural. Therefore, the Torah’s original program of tzedakah details charitable gifts taken from the corner of the field forgotten sheaves, and other gleanings. In these ways and others the Torah established what in the twentieth century came to be known as a welfare state - with one significant difference. It did not depend on a state. It was part of society, implemented not by power but by moral responsibility created by the covenant at Sinai. It was an exceptionally beautiful structure. But the genius of the Torah is that it does not predicate its social vision on a single era or a particular economic order. Torah ideals are timeless. Thus 2500 years later Maimonides was able to state, “We have never seen or heard of a Jewish community without a tzedakah fund.” Tzedakah was thus, both in ideal and reality, the foundation of a covenantal society: society as an ethical enterprise constructed on the basis of mutual responsibility.
Thus far, we have left the word tzedakah untranslated. This is not accidental. Tzedakah cannot be translated because it joins together two concepts that in other languages are opposites, namely charity and justice. Suppose, for example, that I give someone $100. Either he is entitled to it, or he is not. If he is, then my act is a form of justice. If he is not, it is an act of charity. In English, charity and justice do not run concurrently. Tzedakah is therefore an unusual term, because it means both. It arises from the theology of Judaism, which distinguishes between possession and ownership. Ultimately, all things are owned by G-d. What we possess, we do not own - we merely hold it in trust for Him. The clearest example is the provision in Leviticus, “The land must not be sold permanently because the land is Mine; you are merely strangers and temporary residents.”
If there were absolute ownership, there would be a difference between justice (what we are bound to give) and charity (given out of generosity). In Judaism, however, because we are not owners of our property but merely guardians on G-d’s behalf, we are bound by the conditions of trusteeship to share with others in need. What would be regarded as charity in other legal systems is, in Judaism, a strict requirement of the law and can, if necessary, be enforced by the courts.
But tzedakah addresses not just physical needs, but psychological ones also. Poverty humiliates, and a good society will not allow humiliation. Thus the Rabbis ruled that even the richest should be buried plainly so as not to shame the poor. On certain festive days girls, especially those from wealthy families, had to wear borrowed clothes, “so as not to shame those who do not have.”
This need for self-respect explains a remarkable feature of tzedakah legislation. According to Maimonides the supreme act of philanthropy is to provide a loan, or helping someone find employment. In a word, putting him in a situation where he can dispense with simple tzedakah.
This ruling is the result of a profound understanding that charity can itself be humiliating for the recipient. One of the most powerful expressions of this is to be found in the Grace after Meals, when we say, “We beseech You, G-d our Lord, let us not be in need of the gifts of men., but only of Your helping hand…so that we may not be put to shame.” While humanitarian relief is essential for the short term, in the long run, creating jobs are more important.
In this context, one detail of Jewish law is particularly fascinating. It specifies that even a person dependent on tzedakah must himself give tzedakah. On the face of it, the rule is absurd. Why give X enough money so that he can give to Y? Giving to Y directly is more logical and efficient. What the Rabbis understood, however, is that one cannot only receive, as giving is an essential part of human dignity.
Jews have won an astonishing 38% of Nobel prizes in Economics, perhaps because we have long known that economic systems are not written into the structure of the universe, but are constructed by human beings and can be changed by them. Economics is not a religious discipline. It is a secular art and science. Yet, deeply underlying the Jewish passion for economics is a religious imperative, “To be open-handed toward...the needy in your land.”