There Shall Be No Needy, Part 7: Society, Heal Thyself!

The importance of providing health care is such an assumption in the Jewish culture I grew up in that I was surprised to learn it was ever debated--but that just goes to show you how in Judaism, everything is open to debate! In chapter 7 of There Shall Be No Needy,  Rabbi Jill Jacobs gives respect to the minority view that it is up to God to heal sickness (not wounds), or that once upon a time in the age of prophecy that was the case. She rightly states that the overwhelming sentiment is that medicine is a mitzvah, for at least two reasons:

1. We were made in the image of God. Whoever heals a human being is doing a good thing on a cosmic scale!
2. Our bodies are our most valuable possessions. If it's a mitzvah to return my book, my coat, or my donkey that I have lost, what a greater good deed it is to return my health!

Ordinarily we don't pay someone for doing a mitzvah. As she has established in earlier chapters, however, rabbinic opinion is that Jewish communities can organize and regulate themselves for the sake of tikkun olam, which in this case means "to establish a health care system in which doctors and other potential lifesavers feel motivated to operate at their highest capacity, and in which patients can be expected to afford their treatments." But as she remarks:

These texts are especially troubling to read in contemporary American, where an inefficient and profit-driven health care system simultaneously makes it difficult for doctors to treat uninsured patients without risking their own livelihoods and prevents many patients from being able to afford needed medical care and medicine. (170-171)

As usual, Jacobs holds the U.S. to the standards she can find in the Jewish tradition and finds it wanting. Just to be clear, the Affordable Care Act passed the year after this book was published, yet I suspect it would not fundamentally alter her assessment: she is arguing that as Jews, we must demand much more from our society. In fact, she implies that any system that involves paying health insurance companies and having them make profit-driven decisions about health care is not acceptable by Jewish standards.

There Shall Be No Needy, part 1: What Tikkun Olam means in depth

I came to read Rabbi Jill Jacobs' book There Shall Be No Needy: Pursuing Social Justice through Jewish Law & Tradition because Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg referred to it in her book on teshuvah and because I respect Jacobs' work at Truah. 

I expected an inspiring but somewhat dated book I somehow hadn't read when it came out, so I could fill a gap in my education with just a little attention. It is so much more than that! 

Jacobs' book is written for the general public, but it is definitely a work of scholarship. Despite my Jewish social justice background over decades, I am learning so much by reading it--slowly--that I thought I would share some lessons with you, and help my memory by taking notes at the same time! 

Four meanings of Tikkun Olam

Ever since I was in college, when I get to the passage at the end of the Aleinu prayer, I say the part l'taken olam b'malchut shaddai, "to perfect the world under the kingship of the Almighty," out loud. (I do this in memory of my teacher Rabbi Arnold Jacob Wolf.) Tikkun olam has become a byword of Jewish progressives. In some circles, as Jacobs laments, it has become divorced from anything specifically Jewish. But what does it mean?

Establishing the Divine Kingdom

In the prayer I just mentioned, tikkun olam is about everyone recognizing the sovereignty of God and putting away idol worship. That might sound like it means everyone becomes Jewish, but nothing could be farther from the truth! Modern-day idol worship, as so many of us recognize, is the idolatry of money, power, and social superiority, As Jacobs interprets it, tikkun olam in this sense could mean "an end to all the 'impurities' such as poverty and discrimination that hamper the manifestation of the divine presence." (27)

 

The Preservation of the World

In some of the midrashic literature (for instance, B'reishit Rabbah 4:7), tikkun olam means the physical fixing and stabilization of the planet, and perhaps the larger universe, "such as global warming, deforestation, or the extinction of animal species," as Jacobs interprets it. (40)

The Preservation of the Halakhic System and the Social Order

In the Mishnah, the base text of the Talmud, tikkun ha'olam often refers to problems in divorce law. Specifically, it applies in cases where a man divorces his wife and attempts to change his mind, or where the get (divorce decree) might be technically invalid. If these cases were left unchecked, soon no one would know who was legally married and who was not, and the whole community would be disrupted. So, rabbis in the Talmud stated they could close the loopholes even where they didn't have explicit authority to do so. Why? For tikkun ha'olam, the greater good of having a legal system that worked for the community, and especially for the most vulnerable members of the community.

 

Restoring Divine Perfection

In the Lurianic Kabbalah, there is a notion that the process of creating the world went dramatically wrong, and that everything we see around us as reality is merely the shattered vessels that were supposed to make up one whole, unified Creation. In this conception, it is up to human beings, especially Jews, to lift up the shards and reunite them--and in some sense, reunite God, who is in exile with us in this imperfect world--through prayer and observing the commandments (including the ones to help the poor and to do justice, but also the ritual commandments about Shabbat, holidays, etc.)

A Synthesis

I suggest a reimagining of tikkun olam that combines the four understandings of the term we have seen in tradtional text:

1. the Aleinu's concept of tikkun as the destruction of any impurities that impede the full manifestation of the divine presence; 2. the literalist midrashic understanding of tikkun as the establishment of a sustainable social order; 3.  the rabbinic willingness to invoke tikkun ha'olam as a justification for changing laws likely to create chaos, and 4. the Lurianic belief that individual actions can affect the fate of the world as a whole. (38)
   

Jews and All the Peoples of the Earth

One of the great things about being a bat/bar mitzvah tutor is that I'm constantly learning from twelve-year-olds.

Sam is studying Parshat Vayetze for his bar mitzvah ceremony this fall.  The portion begins with Jacob's dream, in which he sees angels going up and down a ladder with its feet on the ground and its head in heaven.  In the dream, God says to Jacob, "And all the peoples of the land shall be blessed in you." (In, or with, or through: all possible translations of the Hebrew original.)

"What does it mean, they will be blessed in you?" I asked Sam.  He answered, "I think it means you will be good to them.  You'll be kind and helpful and make their lives better."

There could be more studied answers.  There could be deeper answers.  But Sam's answer expresses a long-held and intensely felt part of the Jewish tradition.  We are here to make life better for one another.  Whether through personal acts of kindness, or charity, or politics, or social movements, Jews have committed themselves to the ideal of tikun olam, the repair and perfection of the world.

It's significant that this impulse directs itself toward "all the peoples of the land."  Jews take care of their own, and we don't stop there: we try to create a just society. 

It's also significant that our conversation took place in a temple, over a Torah portion, in preparation for a bar mitzvah.  Of course people can dedicate themselves to helping their neighbors from any religious standpoint, or from none at all.  For Jews, however, our tradition pushes us and our institutions channel us in that direction.  When we act for tikun olam, our Jewish and universal selves act as one.

That's why I was active in New Jewish Agenda, whose slogan was "a progressive voice in the Jewish community and a Jewish voice among progressives."  That's why I'm proud to be a consultant to JOIN for Justice, which is training the next generation of Jewish leaders in the journey towards social justice.  And that's why I'm headed off this morning to celebrate another bat mitzvah at Temple B'nai Brith, an inclusive, egalitarian, and welcoming synagogue, which will host a visiting Pakistani delegation this morning. 

Because being Jewish is how I connect with all the peoples of the earth.

A Yom Kippur Story

Yom Kippur begins on Sunday night. This story happened, not on Yom Kippur Eve, but instead it happened late one Yom Kippur afternoon in the synagogue of Berdichev. The famous Rabbi Levi Yitzhak, who was known for his great love and compassion, fell asleep on the pulpit just as he was about beginning the day's concluding service.

Actually, he didn't really fall asleep. Those who knew, well realized that this great Rabbi would never really go to sleep in the synagogue on Yom Kippur. Rather, Rabbi Levi Yitzhak did what every wonder-working Rabbi does on Yom Kippur. He ascended to the highest heaven to stand before the throne of judgment in order to find out what the destiny of his beloved community would be for the coming year.

Levi Yitzhak stood in the presence of the great judge sitting on a grand throne -- with the scales of judgment before the Creator of All. The Rabbi eagerly searched the scales of his little town of Berdichev. When he finally did find it, he was shaken. He was terrified. The side of the scale with good deeds was high up in the air with a few pitiful items on it, while the side of the scale with the sins was so full, so heavily weighted that it was as low as it could go, strained to the breaking point.

In desperation, Levi Yitzhak turned to the good Lord and with panic and fear welling up inside he said to God, Master of the Universe, I know that the record of my people in Berdichev is dismal, but what do you expect,dear Lord? If you would have put us into a Garden of Eden, you could expect us to act like angels, but, dear Lord, You placed us into a harsh and difficult setting. What alternative do my poor downtrodden, miserable people have? Sometimes, we must take extreme measures, just to survive.

Levi Yitzhak was overjoyed to find the good Lord in a very receptive mood. With a benign, parental smile, God said to him, "Levi Yitzhak, you have a point. I haven't been fair. I promise that the Jews of Berdichev are going to have a fine year." As a matter of fact, Levi Yitzhak found God in such good humor that he suspected that this might be the moment to convince God to save not only the Jews of Berdichev, but to save all of humankind -- to send the messiah, the redeemer, to save the world.

And so, Levi Yitzhak turned to the good Lord and said: "Master of the Universe, Merciful Parent, how long? Haven Your poor children suffered long enough? They're drowning dear God. They're on the very edge of desperation. Before it is too late, show us Your grace and mercy and send us Your redeemer."

Slowly and behold, God was willing to discuss the matter with Levi Yitzhak. He said to him: "Levi Yitzhak, you put forth a very cogent argument. There is much meritin it. Please sit down. Convince me."

And so Levi Yitzhak was about to sit down to convince the Lord to save the world. When, out of the corner of his eye, he glanced down at his little town of Berdichev, and he noticed that Hayyim, the laundry man, (Hayyim) who was as old as time and as ugly as sin, to whom no one paid any attention -- neglected, isolated, lonely Hayyim -- [Hayyim] had fainted.

Hayyim had been fasting from the previous day; it was getting very late; he could not hold out any long and so he fainted. Levi Yitzhak knew well that he had to rush down to his synagogue and conclude the service so that Hayyim would eat -- otherwise Hayyim would die.

So, here was his dilemma: Whom shall he save? Shall he convince the good Lord to save the world, or shall he save the life of Hayyim, the laundry man?

Actually, the choice was an easy one... Levi Yitzhak turned to God and said, "I would love to sit here dear Merciful Father and convince You to save the world, -- but where is it written that the price of saving the world is the life of Hayyim the laundry man?" And with that, he turned to rush down and conclude the service.

(And) as he was descending from the heights, rushing to save the life of Hayyim, the story concluded, he heard a chorus of angels calling after him: "Levi Yitzhak, you are saving the world!"