Thou shalt re-boot your economy every fifty years.
Ok, it doesn’t really say that at the end of Leviticus, but that’s sort of what’s going on. In Behar, we encounter the Jubilee year. “You shall count off seven weeks of years – seven times seven – so that the period of seven weeks of years gives you a total of forty-nine years. Then you shall sound the horn loud….and you shall hallow the fiftieth year…Jubilee!” (Lev. 25:8-12)
The rules of the Jubilee year are such that, frankly, it probably wasn’t ever followed literally, and certainly not for the last couple of thousand years. It’s not just that the crops grown on the land can’t be harvested, but all the land that has been sold in the last 49 years reverts back to its original owner. Presumably, in a tribal economy as the Torah describes, the main reason to sell one’s land would be because of hard times. If you have to sell, ok, but pricing will depend on how soon that Jubilee year is coming up (the closer you are,the lower the price, and vice versa; it’s about how many harvests are left on that land that the owner can benefit from.)
What’s interesting though, is the Torah isn’t content to set forth realtor relations. The rest of the laws surrounding Jubilee have to do with “what-ifs”: what if your neighbor is on hard times and has to sell land to pay his bills? Then, if no one from the community comes forward to help him out, then what do you do? What do you do if your neighbor is basically so poor that s/he’s in indentured servitude – can’t ever get out of debt in the foreseeable future. Lend money to help, but not at unreasonable rates of repayment. And that servitude will end at the Jubilee year. Done. You can’t keep someone in debt forever. …Jubilee year: reboot.
In other words, be fair. Be just in your dealings. Don’t mess around with prices, or take advantage of timing in the market, to the point where your neighbor is even more irreparably harmed. “Holy living” is in business practices, too.
What I see here is a guiding principle that at least every couple of generations, we are charged with taking a good look at ourselves, our economy, and the status of our neighbors, whether “kinsman or alien.” Who is in need? Who needs to be “redeemed”, helped out, given a hand? “If your kinsman, being in hard straits, comes under your authority (indentured servant), and you hold him as though a resident alien, let him live by your side” (v. 35) Rashi’s comment on that verse is: “Do not let him fall any further to a state where it will be difficult to set him back up on his feet. “ Even back in the 12th century, Rashi knew that was always the more expensive route.
Gee. What can we learn from this? I just got back from Washington DC and saw the Roosevelt memorial. Carved into stone there is this quote: “The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much. It’s whether we provide enough for those who have too little.” There’s another Rashi comment that would go along with Franklin; the text posits, “If a man has no redeemer for him…” and Rashi pointedly asks, “Is there any such thing as a Jew who has no one to redeem for him?” Granted, Rashi was asking the question in a Jewish-centric community, but expanding on that leads us to ask what kind of a society do we have when a person in need would be that alone? How can we reflect these kinds of values in our economic system?
It’s time to bring a Jubilee-feeling into our economy, not in an unfeasible way, but with some of the same guiding principles: awareness for those in need, honest and fair ways of helping, and never forgetting the dignity of our neighbors.



Bamidbar: Following a standard
And this is the week we all gather (again) at Sinai, to remember and relive the moment we got our “marching orders”, our “Consititution”, our “community blueprint”, our “marriage contract with God”, our “pathway” of life….the Torah. It is Shavuot and Memorial Day, too…both moments of the power of memory.
This was a rare week for Chicago, too, because as the whole world knows, NATO met recently. The preparation (at least the ones we mere citizens witnessed) started a couple of weeks ago too ,what with the road closings, changes in train schedules and the drum beat of media coverage, the signs and banners, marchers and influx of people who had things to say.
Which brings me back to these first few chapters of the book of Bamidbar, which is often translated as “Numbers” (because of the census taken right away), but what really means “wilderness.”
If you look at some of the photos from this last weekend, there are lots of people carrying signs. Regardless of whether or not you agree with them, people spent the better part of several days coming to a place, organizing themselves, identifying themselves with signs and banners, and marching behind them to make themselves heard.
And now to Bamidbar, and the work of Kaftor v’ferach, my class. In the first chapters of the book, we read in great detail of the way the Israelite camp is set up. Remember, there were twelve sub-groups of the Israelites, largely based on the sons of Joseph. They are all assigned specific places in the camp. The encampment forms a protective barrier around the Mishkan, the Tabernacle. The Mishkan itself is surrounded by those on the “inner circle”, literally: the priests and the Levites, whose job it is to take care of the Mishkan, and they are the only ones who can get close to it without getting in trouble (like, dying.) The rest of the tribes were assigned places on the north, south, east and west ends of the camp. The encampment is more than a tent layout. When they marched, they moved as a community, leaving behind the Mt. Sinai experience, and heading out into the vast, unknown wilderness. The group moved this way as a fighting force, protecting the most precious item in the middle (the Tabernacle). And they all had banners and flags. “Ish al diglo” “Every man had his standard” – his flag, banner, like a tribal logo. (Num: 2:2)
As you can imagine, many commentators have explored the camp layout to find explanations, metaphors, insight, etc. Rashi (11th c France) says, “These signs were indeed ensigns. Each standard had a colored flag hanging from it, and the colors were all different….this way, everyone could recognize his own standard.” Other commentators used the layout as metaphor for forces of nature, the body (with the Mishkan, the heart, in the middle), or Kabbalistic emanations of God, a military formation, and more.
The flags were something the people could get behind…literally. They were community-builders, because people identified with what was on the flag. So, too, did the marchers and protesters in Chicago last week.
They put their thoughts on a piece of posterboard and marched out to show the world what they believed in. And it wasn’t just the protesters. The police marched out with badges and insignias, too. So did the NAtO guests. “Ish al diglo” - everyone had their standard. They believed in what they were doing, what they were following, what was guiding them, just as the flag of the Israelite tribes guided the people in the wilderness.
What would be on a flag that you would follow? What standard identifies your community? What image guides you through the wilderness, ready to fight to protect what is at the core of your community?
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