Daf Ditty Pesachim 112

Daf Ditty Pesachim 112:

• Ownership: Is there a concept of “private property,” or does all property ultimately belong to God and/or the community? What can acquire the status of “property”?

• The Moral Value of Wealth and Poverty: Is being wealthy a sign of divine favor? Is poverty ultimately a “better” state in which to live?

• The Acquisition of Wealth: Are there better or worse ways to acquire wealth? Can one make money off the labor of others? How is the biblical prohibition against charging interest treated, and what are its ramifications?

• Spending: What are good and bad ways of disposing of wealth? Do the poor have rights to the wealth of others?

The Sages taught: A person should not drink water from rivers or from ponds at night. And if he drank, his blood is upon his own head due to the danger. The Gemara explains: What is this danger? The danger of blindness. The Gemara asks: And if he is thirsty, what is his remedy? If there is another person with him, he should say to him: So-and-so, son of so-and- so, I thirst for water. And if there is no one else with him, he should say to himself: So-and-so, my mother said to me to beware of shavrirei, the demon of blindness. He should continue to say the following incantation, in the first part of which the demon’s name gradually disappears: Shavrirei berirei rirei yiri ri; I thirst for water in white earthenware cups. This is an incantation against those demons.

The Gemara returns to the statement of the mishna that on Passover one must drink no less than four cups of wine: And this halakha applies even if the poor person accepts funds from the charity plate. The Gemara asks: It is obvious that this is the case. If there is a mitzva to drink these four cups, they must be provided for him.

The Gemara answers: The mishna is necessary only to teach that this halakha applies even according to the opinion of Rabbi Akiva, who said: Make your Shabbat like an ordinary weekday and do not be beholden to other beings. If one is unable to honor Shabbat without financial help from others, it is better for him to save money and eat his Shabbat meals as he would on a weekday rather than rely on other people. Here, in the case of the four cups, Rabbi Akiva concedes that it is appropriate for a poor person to request assistance from the community, due to the obligation to publicize the miracle.

With regard to this issue, the school of Eliyahu taught that although Rabbi Akiva said: Make your Shabbat like a weekday and do not be beholden to other beings; however, one should nevertheless perform some small alteration in his house to distinguish Shabbat from a weekday. The Gemara asks: What is this alteration? Rav Pappa said: For example, one should serve small, fried fish. As we learned in a mishna: Rabbi Yehuda ben Teima says: Be bold like a leopard, light like an eagle, run like a deer, and be strong like a lion to perform the will of your Father in Heaven. This statement teaches that one should exert every effort to perform a mitzva.

3 The Gemara cites the full source of Rabbi’s Akiva statement with regard to Shabbat preparations. The Sages taught: Rabbi Akiva commanded Rabbi Yehoshua, his son, about seven matters: My son, do not sit at the high point of a city, where many people pass, and study there, as the passersby will interrupt you. And do not live in a city whose leaders are Torah scholars, as they are too busy studying to govern properly.

RASHI

although one should live in the proximity of talmidei chochomim, the above discourages living in a city whose mayor is a talmid chochom.

Rashi explains that since talmidei chochomim are busy learning, they will not have sufficient time to tend to the physical needs of the city and its residents.

Rabbi Akiva continued: And do not enter your house suddenly, without knocking first; all the more so do not enter the house of another, as he might not be ready to receive you. And do not withhold shoes from your feet, as it is disgraceful to go barefoot. Wake up and eat, in the summer due to the heat, as it is best to eat before it grows hot, and in the winter due to the strength you will need to tolerate the cold. And make your Shabbat like a weekday and do not be beholden to other beings. And exert yourself to join together with a person upon whom the hour smiles, i.e., a successful person.

The Gemara continues to cite similar advice dispensed by Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Akiva commanded Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai to do five matters when Rabbi Akiva was imprisoned. Beforehand, Rabbi Shimon said to him: Rabbi, teach me Torah. Rabbi Akiva said to him: I will not teach you, as it is dangerous to do so at the present time. Rabbi Shimon said to him in jest: If you will not teach me, I will tell Yoḥai my father, and he will turn you over to the government. In other words, I have no means of persuading you; you are already in prison. Rabbi Akiva said: My son, know that more than the calf wishes to suck, the cow wants to suckle, but I am afraid of the danger. Rabbi Shimon said to him: And who is in danger? Isn’t the calf in danger, as you are in jail and I am the one at risk?

Rabbi Akiva said to him: If so, I will tell you a few matters. First of all, if you wish to strangle yourself, hang yourself on a tall tree. This proverb means that if one wants others to accept what he has to say, he should attribute his statement to a great man. And when you teach your son, teach him from a corrected text. The Gemara asks: What is the meaning of that statement? Rava said, and some say Rav Mesharshiya said: Rabbi Akiva was referring to learning a new topic, for once a mistake enters one’s mind, it has entered there and is difficult to put right.

Accepting Charity to Fulfill the Mitzva of the Four Cups

Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:1

1 https://steinsaltz.org/daf/pesahim112/

In the Mishna (99b) we learned that even a poor person should be sure to have four cups of wine to drink, even if it means accepting it from the charity kitchen.

The Gemara on our daf asks why the Mishna needs to teach us that someone should take money from charity to fulfill the mitzva of drinking four cups. Isn’t it obvious that if someone needs to fulfill a mitzva that he should accept money from charity?

Having presented Rabbi Akiva’s opinion, the Gemara quotes a series of statements that Rabbi Akiva taught his son Rabbi Yehoshua, the final one being the rule of avoiding charity even if it affects your Shabbat. Among them are:

• “Do not sit at the high point of a city when you are learning Torah.” The Seder ha- Dorot interprets this as an admonition to avoid learning Torah in a place where there are throngs of people. Torah should be studied in the quiet and privacy of home or the Bet Midrash. • “Do not live in a city whose leaders are Torah scholars.” The Ben Yehoyada explains that the leader of the city is obligated to constantly remind the townsfolk of their misdemeanors, so they generally do not like him. Were he a Talmid Hakham, the people would likely share the hatred that they had for him to other Torah scholars, as well. • “Do not enter your home suddenly, and certainly you should not enter a neighbor’s home without warning.” In Massekhet Derekh Eretz this rule is supported by the passage in Sefer Bereshit (3:9) in which we find that God Himself “stood” at the entrance to the Garden of Eden and called out to Adam when he needed to admonish him about having eaten from the Etz ha-Da’at (Tree of Knowledge).

A Jewish First Amendment

Rabbi Jay Kelman writes:2

Serious study requires the right atmosphere. The lack of proper research facilities, funding, or good research teams often lead people to search for a more suitable place to work, in what is known as

2 https://www.torahinmotion.org/discussions-and-blogs/pesachim-112-jewish-first-amendment

6 brain drain. While in Talmudic times, travel was much more difficult than today, our rabbis were most cognizant of the importance of location as a best learning practice.

"Seven things Rabbi Akiva commanded his son Rabbi Yehoshua: Do not sit at the top of a city and learn..." (Pesachim 112a). Rabbi Akiva was not concerned lest one spend too much time looking at the view from on high. Rather, the top of the city was the place where people would congregate, the town square of antiquity. With passersby coming and going, no real work could ever get done. Serious study requires peace and quiet [1].

Rabbi Akiva's advice goes beyond location and reaches into the "Mayor's office". Hence, Rabbi Akiva's second order to his son was, "Do not live in a city whose heads are Torah scholars". As Rashi explains, the minds of Torah scholars are (hopefully) preoccupied with their learning, and they are likely to neglect the needs of the community. And that is how it should be. Torah scholars are much better at understanding a difficult Rambam, than worrying about garbage collection. Developing great scholarship requires total focus--as does properly running a city (and how much more so, a country!). Let each specialize in the area for which he or she is best suited. Even if one does find the rare Torah scholar with some administrative talent, surely that is not the best use of his (or her) time.

Rabbi Akiva understood that politics and religion do not mix. Torah is the epitome of truth, and politics is the epitome of anything but. Unfortunately, today we are witness to the harm done to Torah when this teaching is not followed.

While Rabbi Akiva was amongst the greatest of our Sages--it was to his beit midrash that G-d transported Moshe at Sinai (Menachot 30b)--he was a very bad politician. He backed Bar-Kochba's revolt against the Romans, something that was doomed to failure and may have even cost him his life. He did, however, offer a piece of advice that all who deal with those in power would do well to heed. His last instruction [2] to his son was to "strive to partner with the one upon whom the hour smiles". Rav Pappa explains that we should avoid buying or selling to such a person, as one is likely to come out on the short end of such a transaction.

Rather, one should partner with them, taking advantage of their golden touch. Those in political life would do well to learn this lesson. Instead of fighting those who are "on top of the world", one must learn to work together with them.

[1] While a beit midrash is typically a noisy place, it is a noise that consists of many sounds joined together, so that all one hears is the hum of learning. For many yeshiva students, the quiet of the library is deafening, whereas the "noise" of the beit midrash is the most relaxing of sounds. [2] In case you were wondering, the other four instructions were: "Do not enter your home without warning--how much more so to the home of a friend; Do not withhold shoes from your feet; wake up [early] and eat in the summer because of the heat, and in the winter because of the cold; and make your Shabbat like a weekday rather that ask for charity".

The Order of Mishnayot "Arvei Pesachim" and its Meaning

Rav Avraham Walfish writes:3

I would like to demonstrate that the Mishna is a carefully ordered work, and that much can be learned from studying its organization. As an example, I would like to treat a familiar chapter, Perek "Arvei Pesachim," the final chapter of Masekhet Pesachim, which deals with the mitzvot of the seder. In order to understand the structure and meaning of this chapter, I will open with a discussion of the halakhot and the structure of the first mishna and utilize this mishna as a point of departure for examining more general themes within the Mishna's presentation of the seder.

The first mishna serves as a kind of general introduction to the seder. It is unclear, however, what the three laws mentioned in this mishna – (a) not eating prior to nightfall, (b) to recline during the meal, (c) the four cups of wine - have in common, and why they were selected to set the mood for the Mishna's depiction of the seder. We may note that these halakhot are connected by an interlocking "chain" structure, in which each sentence shares a point with the previous one.

(a) and (b) are linked by the shared expression: "lo yokhal ad she...," "one should not eat until…" (b) and (c) both refer to the "ani she-be-Yisrael," "the poor among Israel."

Clearly the mishna has carefully selected, connected and arranged these three halakhot - but to what purpose?

The latter two halakhot seem to convey a clear message: the seder makes no allowances for poverty. All Jews, whatever their financial and social standing may be, participate equally in a meal which is marked by symbols of high social rank: reclining and liberal quantities of wine. Indeed, these symbols are to be included in the meal, even though their fictitious nature is apparent: the poor man will recline, even though he does not possess the appropriate furniture (Tosafot Yom Tov, s.v. Va-afilu ani); he will be provided with four cups of wine, even from funds of communal charity, normally not used for such seemingly frivolous purposes (see Pesachim 112a and Tosafot Yom Tov s.v. Va-afilu min ha-tamchui).

How does the first halakha of this mishna tie into this pattern?

The gemara offers three explanations for the prohibition of eating between mincha and nightfall:

3 https://www.etzion.org.il/en/order-mishnayot-arvei-pesachim-and-its-meaning

1. a general prohibition against having a meal on erev Shabbat or erev chag in order not to spoil one's appetite for the festive meal (in accordance with the view of R. Yehuda, against R. Yose, in Tosefta Berakhot 5:1 - Yerushalmi, and compare Bavli 99b-100a); 2. in order not to spoil one's appetite for eating matza at night (Pesachim 107b, and compare Rashi 99b s.v. Lo yokhal); 3. lest one become involved in eating and fail to bring the korban pesach (Pesachim 107b).

Following either of the first two explanations will enable us to connect this halakha with the other two halakhot in the mishna, insofar as all three halakhot involve preparations for the meal. The first mishna describes how a person is to gear up for the seder: he must ensure that he will have an appetite, that his furniture (appropriate or inappropriate) be set up for reclining, and that he have sufficient wine. The third explanation, however, seems to separate this halakha from the rest of the mishna.

There is, however, a variation on the third explanation which opens up a new perspective on the structure of this mishna and, in fact, is suggestive of an approach to understanding the conceptual structure of the entire chapter. Melehket Shelomo (citing Tosafot 99b s.v. Ad) notes a reading of halakha (a), namely, not eating before nightfall, which focuses not on a prohibition against eating in general but on the eating of the korban pesach: "It comes to teach us that, even though the slaughtering of the korban pesach is during the day, it is not eaten during the day as other sacrifices are." The difference between korban pesach and other sacrifices may be conceptualized as follows: in most sacrifices, the focus is what is offered on the altar (blood sprinkled and body parts burned); the eating of part of the sacrifice is an adjunct to the part offered on the altar.

This is implicit in the Talmudic dictum, "Mi-shulchan gavo'a ka-zakhu," "They have acquired from Heaven's table" (Kiddushin 52b). The part of the sacrifice given for human consumption is, as it were, inviting man to partake, as a guest, of the "meal" celebrated at God's "table," the altar. Hence, the time for eating the sacrifice commences immediately after the portion of the altar has been offered. Regarding the korban pesach, however, the focus is reversed: the main purpose of this offering is to be eaten (see, for example, Mishna Pesachim 7:5), and the eating is a mitzva in its own right. Thus, there is one time for sacrificing (14 Nissan) and one for eating - the night of the 15th.

The foregoing discussion has exposed us to some central issues within the Mishna's treatment of the seder. We may note, first, that the first mishna focuses on eating and drinking - the seder is, first and foremost, a meal, not a beit midrash. This idea, we will soon see, is central to understanding the entire chapter. Second, the explanations of the first halakha have centered on three different foci of the seder meal: the mitzva of simchat ha-regel (a festive meal - compare Tosefta 10:4), the mitzva of eating matza, and the mitzva of eating korban pesach. Third, the elements of the meal which our mishna focuses on are (mostly or entirely, depending on the explanation chosen for (1)) not the central mitzvot required by the Torah, but rather rabbinic requirements - reclining, four cups - which serve as a framework for the meal, rather than its focal point.

9 In order to understand the significance of these points and their interrelationship within the Mishna's seder, let us address one of the central questions of our chapter: which seder is being described? Is the mishna describing the seder of its own times or the seder of Second Temple times? This question confronts us in the first two words of the chapter: arvei (or: erev) Pesachim. Tosafot (99b s.v. Erev Pesachim) note the textual variant erev/arvei, assuming that the reading "arvei Pesachim" means "Passover evenings," whereas "erev Pesachim" would be rendered "evenings of Paschal offerings." The "erev Pesachim" reading is supported by significant textual evidence (manuscripts, Tosefta, Bavli and Yerushalmi readings of mishna), to which we may add the observation of modern linguistic scholars that the plural form "Pesachim" in Talmudic sources always refers to the sacrifice rather than the festival. Hence the "title words" of the chapter already indicate that the seder about to be described is that of Temple times - the Mishna seems not to be terribly interested in "updating" the seder.

Against this conclusion we may note the closing words of mishna 3: "and in the Temple they WOULD (hayu) bring before him the body of the paschal lamb" - indicating that the opening of this mishna refers to present times. However, here too the weight of textual evidence supports the reading preserved in the Yerushalmi's mishna and in Tosefta 10:9, in which the word "hayu" is omitted, supporting R. Shaul Lieberman's conclusion (Tosefta Kifshuta p. 654) that the mishna is contrasting the seder inside and outside the mikdash, both taking place during a time when the Temple stood. Indeed, there is only one point in the entire chapter which clearly refers to post- Temple times: Rabbi Akiva's addition to the "asher ge'alanu" blessing (mishna 6), which includes a prayer for the rebuilding of the Temple and the restoration of the sacrificial service.

Our conclusion, that the Mishna's focus is on the seder of Temple times, sways us in the direction of accepting the understanding of the first halakha in mishna 1, which ties the prohibition of eating to the korban pesach. Moreover, the above comments suggest an understanding as to how the different interpretations of this halakha arose. Some explanations focus on the prohibition against eating in its original context, that of korban pesach, while other explanations attempt to account for the prohibition in the context of the post-Temple seder.

The Mishna's focus on the way in which the seder was celebrated during Second Temple times is reinforced by the structure of the chapter.[1] The chapter divides neatly into three sections (kevatzim):

I 1-3 Introduction & first cup II 4-6 Second cup III 7-9 Third and fourth cups & conclusion

In each section the key components are:

A) the cups, which open each section (in section I, the end of mishna 1 introduces the theme of four cups, concluding the introductory halakhot of this mishna, and then mishna 2 opens with the first cup): "mazgu lo kos x;" and B) the korban pesach, which closes each section.

10 This structure underscores the focus that the Mishna wants us to maintain. The cups of wine serve as the main structural feature of the seder. The korban pesach is the focal point of the meal. The Mishna teaches us that the main mitzva of the evening, the korban pesach, needs to be carried out within the framework of a rabbinic structure, the four cups.

Indeed, the cups serve as occasion for every stage of the seder. The first cup introduces the seder, as it ushers in every holy day (at the opening of the festive meal), with the blessing on the day. The third cup closes the meal, as it closes every festive meal, with birkat ha-mazon.[2] The other two cups occasion the unique verbal content of the seder: both of them share recitation of the Hallel. The second cup also serves as stimulus for the child's question to his father: "Here, upon pouring the second cup, the son asks his father: What is different about the current occasion, that we pour a second cup prior to eating?" (Rashi to Mishna on Pesachim 116a).

Every festive meal opens and closes with one cup of wine; the seder opens and closes with two cups of wine: two before the meal and two after the meal. The additional cups, one before and one after the meal, underscore the special celebration associated with this meal. They also coordinate the meal with the discussion, study and song which accompany ot. The centerpiece of the chapter - mishna 5 (middle mishna of the chapter's nine mishnayot) - is Rabban Gamliel's integration of the menu with the framework of study: one must not only consume pesach, matza and maror, but elaborate their symbolic significance. Indeed, the original text of the "Ma Nishtana" of mishna 4, as preserved in Yerushalmi's mishna text as well as manuscript versions [3], contained three questions, related to these three elements: two "tibbulim" (vegetables = maror); chametz and matza; cooked and roasted meat (= korban pesach).

To sum up: the literary structure of Pesachim chapter 10 serves to highlight its conceptual structure. The seder focuses on the korban pesach, which serves as focal point both for the meal itself and for the discussion. The main import of the discussion is to explain the significance of the korban pesach and of its ancillary mitzvot, matza and maror. The eating of the korban pesach meal is enhanced by Chazal's placing it within the setting of the four cups, which provide for the consumption of this meal a framework which integrates the sanctity of the day, festive joy, study of the exodus and explanation of the symbolic significance of the meal and its components, and Hallel.

We may now return to the first mishna and understand more fully the significance of its three provisions. The first halakha not only ensures that the meal be consumed with hearty appetite, but also underscores the uniqueness of the korban pesach, whose consumption is the centerpiece of the seder of Second Temple times. Consumption of the korban pesach must take place at night for two reasons:

(A) its function is to commemorate - in a way, to reenact - the korban pesach consumed during the final hours in Egypt preceding the exodus. (B) its consumption needs to function as a festive meal both commemorating and celebrating the exodus.

The second halakha, reclining, emphasizes the significance as well as the ambiance of the meal. This is a meal whose consumption symbolizes the free-man status of each and every Jew.

11 Therefore, each Jew is required to set aside the normal fetters of social hierarchies and distinctions and eat the meal in a spirit and setting which emphasize his importance. The third halakha continues the theme of social equality and adds the key structural feature of the seder: the four cups. These three elements - korban pesach, spirit of freedom, and four cups - set the stage for the seder, in which these themes are to be expressed and developed.

FOOTNOTES: [1] I confine my analysis to the structure of the Mishna as it appears in its final redaction. Yosef Tabory, "Mishnat Arvei Pesachim," Bar-Ilan Annual (26-27:5755), attempts to reconstruct the original form of our chapter and analyzes its significance for understanding the original plan and meaning of the seder. [2] Compare Mishna Berakhot chapter 8, which opens with kiddush and closes with birkat ha-mazon. [3] See discussion in D. Goldschmidt's Haggada shel Pesach Ve-toldoteha, pp. 10-13.

Arba Kosot (Four Cups of Wine)

Rav Binyamin Tabory writes:4

The Yerushalmi (Pesachim 10:1) inquires as to the source of the obligation of the arba kosot of Pesach and cites a number of possible sources. The prevalent opinion, however, is that the four cups correspond to the four expressions of redemption stated towards the beginning of Parashat Vaera: "I shall take you out … I shall rescue you … I shall redeem you … I shall take you to me" (Shemot 6:5-5). Interestingly enough, the Keli Chemda maintains that drinking the arba kosot constitutes a biblical requirement, as it is extracted from biblical sources. We may draw further support for this thesis from a variant text of the Yerushalmi, as it appears in the Sheiltot of Rav Achai Gaon: "What is the source of the arba kosot from the Torah?" Nevertheless, it is generally assumed that this mitzva was instituted by our Rabbis, who based it upon the language of the Torah. The gemara (Pesachim 117b) clearly states, "Our Rabbis instituted that the arba kosot be drunk in a manner expressing freedom."

Despite the presumed rabbinic origin of arba kosot, we nevertheless find a number of stringent halakhot associated with this mitzva. First, even if wine affects a person's physical condition, he must force himself to drink arba kosot (Shulchan Arukh, O.C. 372:1). Rav Ovadya Yosef (cited in Yalkut Yosef vol. 5 p. 387) qualified this ruling and claimed that it refers only to a person who may develop a headache or experience some discomfort in his stomach; such a person should still drink arba kosot. If, however, drinking will cause one to be bedridden or trigger an internal illness, he is exempt from this obligation.

Another stringency is stated in the mishna (Pesachim 10:1). A poor person who depends on the public dole for his livelihood must be provided with wine for the arba kosot. The Shulchan Arukh (O.C. 372:13) ruled that an indigent person should sell his clothes, borrow, or hire himself out as a laborer in order to obtain money for the wine. The Rambam (Hilkhot Chanuka 4:12) extended this halakha, requiring a poor person to resort to such measures to obtain Chanuka candles, as well. The Maggid Mishna explained that both Chanuka and Pesach have an element of "pirsumei nisa" (the requirement to publicize the miracle) and thus share this stringency.

4 https://www.etzion.org.il/en/parashat-vaera-arba-kosot-four-cups-wine

Our Daf commenting on the aforementioned mishna, notes that the mishna does not mean to inform us that the supervisors of the charity funds should supply wine as part of the Pesach provisions. This point is obvious and does not require an explicit clause to this effect in the mishna. Rather, the mishna refers to a case where the person has enough money to buy all his needs except wine. In such a situation, the mishna establishes that one should resort to charity, and suffer the resulting shame and debasement, rather than avoid purchasing wine and thus forfeit the mitzva of arba kosot. Rabbi Akiva maintains that if a person receives charity, he should be given three meals for Shabbat. If, however, he can independently afford two meals, he should treat Shabbat as a weekday (and eat only two meals) rather than begin taking charity to pay for the third meal. Yet, the Gemara notes, even Rabbi Akiva agrees that when it comes to arba kosot, an otherwise self-sufficient person should accept charity to purchase wine, because this obligation involves "pirsumei nisa."

The Avnei Nezer (Orach Chaim 501) explains that generally, a poor person who sincerely desires to fulfill a mitzva but whose financial difficulties do not allow him to do so, is nevertheless considered as having fulfilled the given mitzva. However, this rule applies only to ritual obligations, such as putting on tzitzit. "Pirsumei nisa," by contrast, cannot be achieved through good intentions. After all, when all is said and done, in such a case the desired publicity has not occurred. Therefore, he reasons, being poor does not excuse one from fulfilling this mitzva, and one must therefore beg for, borrow or somehow obtain the money needed for the performance of this mitzva.

The gemara (Megilla 18a) ascribes the quality of "pirsumei nisa" to the obligation of Megilla reading, as well. It would seem that these three mitzvot represent three different forms of "pirsumei nisa." On Chanuka, the basic idea is to light the candles outdoors and proclaim the miracle to the entire world. Megilla reading, on the other hand, is required only within the framework of the Jewish community. And the "pirsumei nisa" of arba kosot pertains only to one's family or the chavura (group) that attends that particular seder.

The Rambam rules (ibid., 13) that if a person does not have enough money to buy both wine for kiddush and Chanuka candles, he should buy the candles instead of the wine. The Kesef Mishna bases this ruling on the fact that the element of "pirsumei nisa" exists with regard to the obligation of candle lighting, whereas it does not apply to kiddush.

The Avnei Nezer (op cit.) questioned the assumption, that we do not consider the Friday night kiddush "pirsumei nisa." After all, Shabbat commemorates both the creation of the world and the redemption from Mitzrayim. These events, both of which we refer to in the text of kiddush, certainly qualify as "miracles," and reciting kiddush indeed publicizes these miraculous events. Why, then, is kiddush not an expression of "pirsumei nisa"? He answered that "pirsumei nisa" means that the miracle should be publicized to others, whether it be the entire world, the Jewish community or the immediate family. However, kiddush is inherently a purely personal obligation; no one else need be present for a person to fulfill the mitzva of kiddush. Therefore, kiddush cannot be considered a mitzva of "pirsumei nisa."

13 Although, as we have seen, the gemara explicitly connects the arba kosot with the concept of "pirsumei nisa," this should strike us as somewhat surprising. The miracles of Chanuka and Purim - which are obviously not recorded in the Torah - understandably require publicity to ensure their place within the collective memory of Am Yisrael. Furthermore, needless to say, we have no biblical requirements to fulfill on Chanuka and Purim which would facilitate the continuous memory of these miracles. However, Pesach, its history and its laws, comprise such an integral part of the Torah that it hardly needs any additional means of publicity. The Ten Commandments begin with a reference to the exodus from Mitzrayim. We also have the biblical requirements of the Pesach sacrifice, eating matza and, above all, the biblical obligation of relating the story to our children and grandchildren. Do we really require more "pirsumei nisa"? Rav Moshe Shternbuch (Moadim U'Zemanim vol. 7, P.97) raised another point relevant to this issue. The gemara (Pesachim 108b) says that the arba kosot contain an element of "cherut" (freedom) and "simcha" (joy). If the gemara there establishes the primary reason(s) for the arba kosot, then why did the gemara cited earlier feel that "pirsumei nisa" is also a factor? Despite the lack of a response to this question, Rav Shternbuch suggested that all the obligations of the seder constitute "pirsumei nisa." This radical approach implies that a person should beg for or borrow money even to buy "marror" (bitter herbs) for the seder, despite the fact that today, in the absence of the Pesach sacrifice, eating marror constitutes merely a rabbinic obligation.

Several Rishonim have raised the question of why we do not recite a berakha before we drink the arba kosot. Among the answers given is that this mitzva is not performed all at once. Indeed, a "hefsek" (interruption) between the kosot necessarily occurs, given that each of the cups has a specific text to be recited before it is drunk (kiddush, the main section of the Hagada, birkat ha-mazon, and hallel). The Or Zarua (vol. 1 paragraph 140) compared this to the three meals of Shabbat: since they too, are to be eaten at intervals, one does not recite a berakha over the mitzva of eating Shabbat meals. Rabbeinu David (Pesachim 109b) assumes that the arba kosot are four components of one mitzva, and goes so far as to say that if one should drink only one or two cups, he fulfills nothing at all until he drinks all four. (The editor of Rabbeinu David's novellae, Rabbi A. Shoshana, cites other opinions in footnote number 9). Since this one mitzva is divided into four parts and must be done at intervals, it follows that there is no berakha recited.

In light of our discussion, another question arises. Two of the mitzvot involving "pirsumei nisa" - Chanuka candles and Megilla reading - feature the special berakha "She-asa nisim" ("who has performed miracles"). Given that the entire Pesach seder also involves "pirsumei nisa," and the mitzva of the arba kosot certainly constitutes "pirsumei nisa," why is no such berakha recited at the seder? Some Rishonim (Sefer Ha-Orah 90; also see Orchot Chayim, Avudraham and other commentators on the Hagada) explain that in truth, such a berakha indeed exists. Just before we drink the second cup, we recite the berakha "Asher ge'alanu ve-ga'al et avoteinu" ("Who has redeemed us and our fathers"), which is akin to the berakha of "she-asa nisim." The question, however, could still be raised: Even if this is true, why is it recited before the second cup and not the first?

The night of Pesach has a special requirement! One should experience the redemption as if he himself left Mitzrayim. We begin the seder and attempt to feel the slavery to Pharoah in Mitzrayim. As we recite the Hagada, we re-live the geula process. As we realize the full meaning

14 of the redemption and say hallel, we fully appreciate the miracle therefore, it is now appropriate to say the berakha "she-asa nisim" which is now transformed into the berakha "asher ge'alanu."

Charity (Tzedakah)5

In the Talmud and Rabbinic Literature

Although the idea of charity and almsgiving is spread throughout the whole of the Bible, there is ẓedakah) for) הָקָדְצ no special term for it. The rabbis of the Talmud, however, adopted the word charity, and it is used (but not exclusively so) throughout rabbinic literature in the sense of helping the needy by gifts. It has been suggested that the word ẓedakah in this sense already appears in Daniel (4:24) and in the Apocrypha (Ben Sira 3:30; 7:10 and Tobit 4:7; 12:8–9); in some of the verses the context would seem to bear out such a supposition. All this indicates, however, is that the term had come into use in the post-biblical period; in Talmud times it was entirely accepted to the extent that the rabbis interpreted biblical passages where the word certainly does not mean charity in the sense of their own usage. The word has since passed into popular usage and is almost ḥesed, "loving-kindness"), which is used widely in the) דֶסֶח exclusively used for charity. The term Bible, has taken on the meaning of physical aid, or lending without interest (see gemilut ḥasadim ).

Charity as Tzedakah

The word ẓedakah literally means "righteousness" or "justice"; by their very choice of word the rabbis reveal a great deal of their attitude toward the subject, for they see charity not as a favor to the poor but something to which they have a right, and the donor, an obligation. In this way they teach "The poor man does more for the householder (in accepting alms) than the householder does for the poor man (by giving him the charity)" (Lev. R. 34:8) for he gives the householder the opportunity to perform a mitzvah. This attitude stemmed from the awareness that all men's possessions belong to God and that poverty and riches are in His hand. This view is aptly summed up in Avot (3:8): "Give unto Him of what is His, seeing that thou and what thou hast are His" and is further illustrated in a story told of Rava . A poor man came before Rava who asked him what he usually had for his meal. The man replied, "Fatted chicken and old wine." "But do you not" said Rava "feel worried that you are a burden on the community?" "Do I eat what is theirs?" said the man, "I eat what is God's" (exegesis to Ps. 145:15). At that point Rava's sister brought him a gift of a fatted chicken and some old wine which Rava understood to be an omen and apologized to the poor man (Ket. 67b).

The importance the rabbis attached to the mitzvah of ẓedakah can be understood from R. Assi who stated that "ẓedakah is as important as all the other commandments put together" (BB 9a) and from R. Eleazar who expounded the verse "To do righteousness (ẓedakah) and justice is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice" (Prov. 21:3) to mean that charity is greater than all the sacrifices (Suk. 49b). Ẓedakah, to the rabbis, hastens redemption (BB 10a), ensures that the doer will have wise,

5 https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/charity-throughout-jewish-history

15 wealthy, and learned sons (BB 19b), and atones for sins (BB 9a). Giving charity is the way in which man can "walk after the Lord your God" (Deut. 13:5) and be saved from death (Prov. 1:2). Together with Torah and service (i.e., prayer), the practice of charity is one of the pillars on which the world rests (Avot 1:2). Giving charity does not impoverish and not giving is tantamount to idolatry (Ket. 68a). Charity is an act of devotion and a complement to prayer; as such, the wise give charity just before praying as it is written, "and I, in righteousness (ẓedek) will see Thy face" (Ps. 17:15; BB 9a).

Since ẓedakah is considered a biblical commandment the rabbis found it necessary – as in the case of every other mitzvah – to define it in minute detail, e.g., who is obligated to give, who is eligible to receive, how much should be given and in what manner. These laws are scattered throughout the Talmud and were codified by Maimonides in his Yad in Hilkhot Mattenot Aniyyim, the first six chapters of which deal with the laws of leket, shikḥah, and pe'ah, and the last four, with the general laws of charity. In the Tur and Shulḥan Arukh, the laws are codified in Yoreh De'ah 247–59.

Givers & Receivers of Charity

Everybody is obliged to give charity; even one who himself is dependent on charity should give to those less fortunate than himself (Git. 7a). The court can compel one who refuses to give charity – or donates less than his means allow – to give according to the court's assessment. The recalcitrant can even be flogged, and should he still refuse to give, the court may appropriate his property in the assessed sum for charity (Ket. 49b; Maim. Yad., Mattenot Aniyyim 7:10).

For the purposes of charity, a poor man is one who has less than 200 zuz (200 dinar – each of which coins is the equivalent of 96 barley grains – of a mixture of ⅞ bronze and ⅛ silver). This sum is the criterion if it is static capital (i.e., not being used in business); if, however, it is being used, the limit is 50 zuz (ibid., 9:13). A man with more than these sums is not entitled to take leket, shikhḥah, and pe'ah, the poor man's tithe or charity – and he who does will be reduced to real poverty (ibid., 10:19). Charity should be dispensed to the non-Jewish poor in order to preserve good relations; however, charity should not be accepted from them unless it is entirely unavoidable. Women take precedence over men in receiving alms, and one's poor relatives come before strangers. The general rule is "the poor of your own town come before the poor of any other town," but this rule is lifted for the poor of Ereẓ Israel who take precedence over all (Sh. Ar., YD 251:3). A traveler in a strange town who is out of funds is considered to be poor and may take charity even though he has money at home. When he returns to his home, he is not obliged to repay the charity he has taken (Pe'ah 5:4). A man is not obliged to sell his household goods to maintain himself but is eligible for charity (Pe'ah 8:8); even if he owns land, houses, or other property, he is not required to sell them at a disadvantage if the prices are lower than usual (BK 7a– b). It is permitted to deceive a poor man who, out of pride, refuses to accept charity, and to allow him to think that it is a loan; but a miser who refuses to use his own means is to be ignored (Ket. 67b).

16 The Amount of Charity to be Given

To give a tenth of one's wealth to charity is considered to be a "middling" virtue, to give a 20th or less is to be "mean"; but in Usha the rabbis determined that one should not give more than a fifth lest he become impoverished himself and dependent on charity (Ket. 50a; Maim. Yad., loc. cit., 7:5). The psychological needs of the poor should be taken into consideration even though they may appear to be exaggerated. Thus a once wealthy man asked Hillel for a horse and a runner to go before him, which Hillel supplied; on another occasion, when Hillel could not afford to hire a runner for him, Hillel acted as one himself (Ket. 67a). This attitude is based on the interpretation of the verse "thou shalt surely open thy hand unto him … for his need which he wanteth" (Deut. 15:8), the accent being on "his" and "he"; however, on the basis of the same verse, the rabbis taught that "you are required to maintain him but not to enrich him," stressing the word "need" (Ket. 67a). "We must be more careful about charity than all the other positive mitzvot because ẓedakah is the criterion of the righteous (ẓaddik), the seed of Abraham, as it is written 'For I have singled him [Abraham] out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is just [ẓedakah; Gen. 18:19]' … and Israel will only be redeemed by merit of charity, as it is written 'Zion shall be redeemed with justice, And they that return of her with righteousness [ẓedakah'; Isa. 1:17]'" (Maim. Yad, loc. cit. 10:1).

Manner of Dispersing Charity

This appreciation of the importance of charity led the rabbis to be especially concerned about the manner in which alms are to be dispensed. The prime consideration is that nothing be done that might shame the recipient. "R. Jonah said: It is not written 'Happy is he who gives to the poor,' but "Happy is he who considers the poor' (Ps. 41:2): i.e., he who ponders how to fulfill the command to help the poor. How did R. Jonah act? If he met a man of good family who had become impoverished he would say, 'I have heard that a legacy has been left to you in such a place; take this money in advance and pay me back later.' When the man accepted it he then said to him, 'It is a gift'" (TJ, Pe'ah 8:9, 21b). When R. Yannai saw someone giving a zuz to a poor man in public, he said, "It were better not to have given rather than to have given him and shamed him" (Ḥag. 5a). Out of consideration for the sensibilities of the poor, the rabbis considered the best form of almsgiving to be that in which neither the donor nor the recipient knew each other: "Which is the ẓedakah which saves from a strange death? That in which the giver does not know to whom he has given nor the recipient from whom he has received" (BB 10a), and R. Eliezer saw the "secret" giver as being greater than Moses (BB 9b). Stories are told throughout the Talmud illustrating this principle and relating how the pious devised ingenious methods of giving alms so as to remain anonymous (Ket. 67b.; Ta'an. 21b–22a, et al.). For the same reason, it is important to receive the poor in good humor, and even if one cannot afford to give, one must at least appease the poor with words (Lev. R. 34:15; Maim Yad loc. cit. 10:5).

Maimonides (Yad, loc. cit. 10:7–12) lists eight ways of giving ẓedakah which are progressively more virtuous: to give (1) but sadly; (2) less than is fitting, but in good humor; (3) only after having been asked to; (4) before being asked; (5) in such a manner that the donor does not know who the recipient is; (6) in such a manner that the recipient does not know who the donor is; and (7) in such a way that neither the donor nor the recipient knows the identity of the other. The highest form of charity is not to give alms but to help the poor to rehabilitate themselves by lending them money,

17 taking them into partnership, employing them, or giving them work, for in this way the end is achieved without any loss of self-respect at all.

"Charity Wardens"

"In every town where there are Jews they must appoint 'charity wardens' [gabba'ei ẓedakah], men who are well-known and honest that they should collect money from the people every Sabbath eve and distribute it to the poor.… We have never seen or heard of a Jewish community which does not have a charity fund" (Yad, loc. cit. 9:1–3). Because the charity warden was involved in the collection and distribution of public funds, special care was taken to ensure that there should not be even the slightest suspicion of dishonesty. The actual collection had to be made by at least two wardens who were not permitted to leave each other during the course of it. The distribution of the money was to be made by at least three wardens in whose hands lay the decision as to whom to give and how much. Besides money, food and clothing were also distributed. It seems that the poor were registered with the fund and mendicants who went from door to door begging were not to be given any sizable sums (BB 9a); the fund did, however, supply the needs of strangers. Apart from maintaining the poor, the fund was also used for redeeming captives and dowering poor brides, both of which were considered to be among the most virtuous of acts. In addition to the fund (kuppah), there were also communal soup kitchens (tamḥui) at which any person with less than enough for two meals was entitled to eat (Yad, loc. cit. 9:13).

Collecting and distributing charity is to some extent distasteful work and at times even humiliating. In order to encourage men to undertake it, the rabbis interpreted several scriptural verses as extolling the wardens who are considered to be "eternal stars" and greater even than the givers (BB 8a, 9a). R. Yose, however, prayed "May my lot be with those who collect charity rather than with those who distribute it" (Shab. 118b), apparently preferring the risk of humiliation to that of misjudgment.

Charity is a form of vow, and a promise to give must be fulfilled immediately (Yad, loc. cit. 8:1). Generally speaking, the charity money must be used for the purpose for which it was given, and it is forbidden to divert the funds to some other cause. For a more detailed discussion, see Hekdesh .

The Accepting of Charity

When necessary, accepting charity is perfectly legitimate and no shame attaches itself to the poor who are otherwise unable to support themselves. However, one is advised to do everything in one's power to avoid having to take alms: "Make your Sabbath a weekday (by not eating special food or wearing good clothes) rather than be dependent on other people" (Pes. 112a); and, "Even a wise and honored man should do menial work (skinning unclean animals) rather than take charity" (Pes. 113a). The greatest of the sages did physical labor in order to support themselves and remain independent. "A person who is really entitled to take charity but delays doing so and so suffers rather than be a burden to the community will surely be rewarded and not die before he reaches a position in which he will be able to support others. About such a person was it written: 'Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord' (Jer. 17:7)" (Yad, loc. cit. 10:18).

THE POVERTY PROGRAM OF JUDAISM

Aharon Shapiro writes:6

6 Review of Social Economy, September, 1971, Vol. 29, No. 2,

Wealth and Poverty in Jewish Tradition

The Violence of Poverty

Aryeh Cohen writes:7

Often a causal relationship is drawn between them, usually in that that poverty is a cause of crime and violence. Sometimes, when discussing global issues and civil wars, the relationship is drawn in the opposite direction, to wit, that violence is the cause of poverty.

There is, however, a growing body of research that delineates the ways in which poverty itself is violence.3 In this essay I argue, based on materials from rabbinic literature (mainly the Palestinian and the Babylonian Talmuds), that poverty was itself recognized as a form of violence.

I also argue that although this was recognized as such, the responses were not necessarily as sweeping as one might have expected. That is, given the rhetorical understanding of the violence of extreme poverty, one might have assumed that there would be some equally extreme response. This is not the case. To be sure, there were institutional responses that were very effective over the long run. However, whereas the discourse of poverty is emotional and even, perhaps, hyperbolic, the response was measured and bureaucratic. There may be no other way.

It will be for further research to determine whether that was the case. The first text is a legal narrative from Mishnah Nedarim 9:10. The context of this mishnah is the legal abrogation of vows. The juridic mechanism for the abrogation involves going to a court and being interrogated as to one's state of mind or intention at the time of the vow. Reuven, the ubiquitous John Doe of rabbinic legal example, vowed that he would derive no benefit from a certain Shimon-Reuven's exemplary partner. This would result in Reuven's inability to conduct most forms of social or commercial intercourse with Shimon.

If, in the course of time, Reuven regretted his perhaps hasty decision to cur Shimon out of his life by way of a vow, Reuven might go to court and get the vow annulled, or in rabbinic terms "allowed" or "undone".4 The court might ask Reuven, as m. Nedarim 9:2 suggests: "If you knew then that Shimon would become a scribe, as he has actually become, would You have taken this vow?" Or they might ask: "If you knew that Shimon would be marrying off his son in the near future, would you have taken this vow?" If Reuven answers in the negative to these or similar inquiries, the court "allows" the vow, and Reuven and Shimon can resume their hastily ended relationship. The specific context of the legal narrative quoted above is the case of a man who took an oath that he would not marry a certain woman because she was ugly-or a list of other reasons- and it turns out that she is actually beautiful. Not entering into the social and cultural pressures that might have been brought to bear in order to make the woman consent to marry that man now, the

7 Studies in Jewish Civilization Volume 26 Editor: Leonard J. Greenspoon The Klutznick Chair in Jewish Civilization Purdue University Press West Lafayette, Indiana: Sep 25, 2015 — Leonard J. Greenspoon (ed), Wealth and Poverty in Jewish Tradition.

22 vow itself is considered a mistaken vow and is null. It is at this point that the mishnah introduces our narrative:

A [legal] narrative, one foreswore [sexual] pleasure from his niece. She was brought to Rabbi Ishmael's house, and made pretty. Rabbi Ishmael said to him: "My son, is this the one from whom you foreswore?" He said: "No." Rabbi Ishmael permitted the vow. At that moment Rabbi Ishmael cried and said: "The daughters of Israel are pretty, but poverty disfigures them."

In our tale, the man swore that he would never have pleasure or benefit from this woman. The fact of her being his niece is a marker of special intimacy in the rabbinic context. The implication is that he thought her ugly and therefore did not want to marry her. Someone then brought her to Rabbi Ishmael's house, and she was given a makeover, and voila, she was beautiful. It is not apparent from the story who brought her to the house or who did the making over. It is not evident from the story whether the husband regretted his vow and now wanted to marry his niece or whether someone else rose to her defense lest she remain in her spinsterhood. This and much more remains unanswered. There are also interesting questions about coercion and commodification that I will not pursue. The drama continues with Rabbi Ishmael revealing the newly beautiful woman to the man and demanding: "Is this the person from whom you forswore?" The man quickly says "no," and, it is implied, the vow is abrogated, and happy endings are on their way.

It is the coda to the tale that concerns us. Rabbi Ishmael reacts to this scene by crying and stating: "The daughters of Israel are pretty, but poverty disfigures them." It is upon the assertion in the latter part of Rabbi Ishmael's statement that I wish to tarry: [poverty] is an actor in this statement. To poverty is ascribed the action of disfiguring. Since that action is remediated by Rabbi Ishmael in the real world of this narrative, one cannot say that the reification of poverty is merely metaphorical. Poverty is acting in the world in such a manner as to cause harm, or disfigurement, to a woman. Actually, according to Rabbi Ishmael, to many women. This action is a violent action.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines violence as the exercise of physical force so as to inflict injury on, or cause damage to, persons or property. It is almost in this exact sense that poverty, according to Rabbi Ishmael, is violent. While we cannot expect to see the specific blow, we can apprehend its impact-the injury upon, or the damage to, the women so afflicted. The injury is real, and the actor is named: poverty. 6 The reason that I have gone on at length about this is to get to something in the rabbinic discourse that is not mystified in the way that it is in contemporary

23 discourse. The rabbis readily acknowledge that poverty is violent. Whether in and of itself violent or as wielded in direct action (refusing someone hunger relief, for example, or cursing someone with impoverishment), the rabbis have no illusion about the insidious and violent impacts of poverty.

And life in the Eastern Empire in late antiquity was harsh. As Gilda Hamel has written: "In spite of all his hard work, the Palestinian farmer could not break what appears to us as a vicious cycle and which to him was the unmediated reality of long days of work, exhaustion, and anguish over diseases and catastrophes."7 Poverty was a constant companion, lurking right outside the frame, waiting for the one day when there was no work, or work and no pay, or drought.

All this is not surprising, considering the historical context in Late Antiquity. As Peter Brown writes, "In its ecology, in its demographic patterns, in its epidemiology, and in its structures of political and economic power, the ancient Mediterranean had long been an unforgiving place. There was little to protect individuals, communities, and indeed, entire regions, from periodic hunger, from phases of acute economic and political oppression, and from the constant necessity, for many, to wander in search of a better life." 10

In b. Bava Batra 10a, Rabbi Akiva is challenged by "the evil Turnus Rufus": "If your God loves the poor why does he not support them?" Akiva initially answers: "So that we will be saved through them from Gehenna." In other words, the poor are there so that those who are not impoverished might support them and acquire merit or be saved from punishment. 11 Turnus Rufus does not accept this answer. He claims that if people are poor, it is God's will that they are poor and therefore supporting them is actually contravening God's will, "and this will actually condemn you to Gehenna."

The interesting part of Turnus Rufus's challenge comes next. He uses a parable to illustrate his point: "It is comparable to a mortal king who became angry at his servant/subject and imprisoned him in jail and ordered that he not be given food or drink. A person then went and fed him and

24 gave him drink. Would the king not be angry at chat person?" A poor person within this metaphorical world is one who is imprisoned without food or drink. While Akiva answers Turnus Rufus's challenge, he does not change the parameters of the debate.

Akiva says chat the situation is actually comparable to a mortal king who, out of his anger, condemns his son to prison and orders that he be given neither food nor drink. In this situation, he asks, would not the king actually be happy if a person went against his will and fed his son and brought him drink? While Akiva makes his point chat God would want us to support the poor, he does not challenge the basic premise of Turnus Rufus's metaphorical world: a poor person is like someone imprisoned without food or drink. l2

This first metaphor is a striking acknowledgement of the violence inflicted by poverty on the poor. If we read the metaphor in relation to other Akiva stories, it is even more powerful. Rabbi Akiva is associated with the phrase “imprisoned in a jail.” 13

In an aggadah in b. Berakhot 61b in which he is imprisoned by the Romans, he is ultimately martyred. In our aggadah, it is the nominally Roman nemesis who names the poor as imprisoned, and by analogy, the angry king is perhaps the Romans {or Turnus Rufus himself?). The deployment of the metaphor by the Roman interlocutor heightens the violence in the mind of the listener as Akiva's association with prison leads to death. At the end of this long excursus on poverty and poverty relief in b. Bava Batra 11a, there is another story which tells of the lethal dangers of poverty:

It is taught: They said about Binyamin the righteous that he was in charge of the charity fund. Once a woman came before him in a year of drought. She said to him: "Rabbi, support me!" He said to her: "I swear that there is nothing left in the charity fund!" She said to him: "Rabbi, if you do not support me, behold a woman and her seven children are going to die!" He stood and supported her from his own money. After a time, he fell ill and was dying. The angels said before the Holy One of Blessing: "Master of the World, you said: 'One who saves an Israelite's life, it is as if he saved the whole world.' Meanwhile Binyamin the righteous who saved a woman, and her seven children will die at such a young age?!" Immediately they tore up the decree. It is taught, they added twenty-two years to his years.

This story comes at the end of the excursus on poverty and poverty relief that starts on 7a.

The excursus is divided unevenly in two. The Akiva story just cited is more or less the transitional point at the end of the first part, whose theme is poverty relief-that is, the mechanisms and obligations of poverty relief-which includes discussion of assessments and collections and the like. The second part may be tided "in praise of tzedakah"; its purpose is to raise up poverty relief by speaking of the individual and communal benefits and rewards of giving charity.

The point of the story of Binyamin the righteous is obviously in line with this agenda. After providing financial resources to this poor woman and her children, Binyamin is saved from dying young. However, the narrative has as a given that the woman is telling the truth when she says that if she cannot get money from the charity fund, she will die. This is the hinge of the story and must be believable to the audience in order that the favorable outcome for Binyamin the righteous will

25 have the desired effect on the reader. That poverty leads to death, and also is like a prison without food or drink, are further explicated in two other texts, one a legal narrative and one a midrash halachah-both in the Bavli.

The latter idea is brought home in a well-known legal narrative•~ in b. Bava Metzia 83a. Two porters are hired by Rabbah bar bar Hanna to carry a jug of wine. They end up accidentally smashing the jug. (While the smashing of the jug was not intended, it is debated among the medievals whether it was a result of negligence or purely accidental [i.e., ones].) Rabbah bar bar Hanna rakes their cloaks-either as payment or to force them to go to court. 15

They go to Rav, and he forces Rabbah bar bar Hanna to return the garments. The two porters say, "We are poor, and we worked a whole day, and we are hungry, and we have nothing."16 Rav then decides that Rabbah bar bar Hanna should pay them their wages. Rav bases both of his decisions on a verse in Proverbs 2:20: "So follow the way of the good and keep to the paths of the just." In both cases Rabbah bar bar Hanna questions Rav's decision and challenges him to say whether he is making a legal decision or demanding that he act beyond the letter of the law. In both cases Rav claims that he is making a legal decision.

For our purposes here, however, the interesting part is that Rabbah bar bar Hanna does not challenge the assertion of the two porters that they are actually without means to sate their hunger. "We are poor," they say, "and we are hungry and have no means." They are imprisoned in hunger, and one accidentally or incidentally broken jug can keep them there.

The commentary in the Palestinian Talmud to these innovative mishnaic poverty relief laws contain a series of legal narratives which are connected by the literary device of a meeting26 The drama flows out of this meeting. These four stories, taken together, speak to the ambivalence of the rabbinic reaction to poverty relief on the one hand and to the complete reification of poverty as malevolent figure on the other:

In this first tale, the tragic turn that results from the sages' meeting with the poor person has an O'Henry like ending. The poor person was not really poor, the sages' piety therefore was preserved. However, the obligation to the poor is also reinforced in the ambiguous final statement. "If not for the deceivers among them, if one would demand charity from a person, and [that person] would not give him, immediately he would be punished." That is, the obligation to give charity is absolute and the punishment for not being charitable would be meted out immediately, if not for the presence of some legitimate skepticism about the poverty of the poor.

In the next narrative, a Sage is out battling poverty at night, and he meets poverty himself:

27 The third generation Babylonian Amora Hinena bar Papa is "met" during his outing by the master of demons or spirits .The master of demons challenges Rabbi Hinena bar Papa with a verse from Deuteronomy, which grounds the idea that one person is not allowed to overstep his or her boundaries and encroach upon the boundaries of another. This is applied rabbinically to matters ranging from actually moving boundary stakes of a piece of land to intellectual property. The master of demons challenges the sage, since, first, the night is presumably the domain of the demons (this idea is prevalent in rabbinics and is how the rabbis understand, for example, Lilith's name as the demon of the night). This master of demons is not named here.29

However, I suggest that in the context of these stories, the master demon is also protesting Hinena bar Papa's effrontery in relieving poverty while trespassing on poverty's domain. That is, the master demon in this narrative is poverty. Rabbi Hinena bar Papa's response is a direct rebuff. Hinena bar Papa's scriptural retort is a virtual punch in the face, in which he runs poverty, the master demon, off his property.

The next narrative, as the first one, ends in tragedy:

Nehemiah of Sichin for some reason did not want to give the Jerusalemite enough money to splurge on turkey and only gave him enough for meat. For some reason the meat disagreed with him and he died. (There are a number of stories about the aesthete tastes of some previously wealthy poor people in this extended text, so that it is plausible that this is what happened here.) After the Jerusalemite dies, Nehemiah takes responsibility for having killed him.

The ubiquity of these images of the violence of poverty might cause one to think that the rabbinic response to poverty would be equally dramatic and sweeping. This is not necessarily true. Side by side with the dramatic images of d1e impoverished, the obligations of poverty relief are laid out in a manner that is reasoned and moderate. There is no demand a la Peter Singer or Matthew's Jesus24 that one sell everything beyond the necessities of survival and give them to the poor. The opposite

28 is true. The obligations of poverty relief are bureaucratized and normalized. There are standards for giving and there are minimums that are to be received. The mishnah in Pe'ah sets the amount for a poor person who enters the city at "a Loaf of bread worth a pundyon when four se'ahs can be purchased with a sela." If the person is staying overnight, they are to be supplied with the necessities of sleeping (a bed roll and the like). If they are staying for Shabbat, they are to be given three meals. The same mishnah also sets the threshold for receiving assistance. If a person has resources for two meals, they should not draw from the community. 25

R. JILL JACOBS WRITES:8

The overarching Jewish attitude toward the poor is best summed up by a single word of the biblical text: achikha (your brother). With this word, the Torah insists on the dignity of the poor, and it commands us to resist any temptation to view the poor as somehow different from ourselves.

The concept of human dignity is well-ingrained in Judaism. The book of Genesis describes human beings as created “b’tzelem elokim” in the image of God (1:26). At least one early Rabbi considers one of the verses expressing this idea to be the most important verse in the Torah (Sifra Kedoshim 2:4). The insistence that human beings are creations in the divine image implies that any insult to an individual, by extension, is an affront to God. In reminding us that the poor person is our sibling, the Torah emphasizes that, like us, this person is a manifestation of the divine image and should be treated as such.

8 Reprinted from There Shall Be No Needy, published by Jewish Lights Publishing.

30 In addition to challenging us to see the poor person as a member of our family, the word achikha also disabuses us of any pretense that we are somehow inherently different from the poor. Those of us who do not live in dire poverty often protect ourselves from any sense of vulnerability by finding ways to differentiate ourselves from the poor: they must be poor because they don’t work hard, because they drink or take drugs, because they come from dysfunctional families, and so forth. Seeing each poor person as our sibling cuts through any attempts to separate ourselves from him or her. Three Reasons for Good Deeds In a riff on the Deuteronomy 15 passage, Don Isaac Abravanel, a 15th-century Spanish commentator, identifies three primary reasons for giving tzedakah: to express mercy on the poor; to recognize the poor person as your relative; and to commit to sustaining your community. With this list, Abravanel proposes a three-pronged approach to interacting with the poor.

First, you may care for the poor out of pity. The word “mercy” suggests a stance toward the poor in which you give out of a sense of generosity, and not out of a belief that the poor person deserves the gift. Similarly, when Jews pray for divine mercy, the liturgy reflects the hope that God will have mercy even though we have done nothing to deserve God’s beneficence. In the words of the High Holiday liturgy, “Avinu Malkenu (our father, our king), have mercy on us and answer us, even though we have done no good deeds.”

Second, Abravanel asks us to recognize the poor as members of our own family, insofar as all people are descendants of a common ancestor. Like the concept of achikha, this demand forces us to see each poor person as an individual human being worthy of dignity and respect. Rather than view a poor person as an anonymous and undeserving beggar, we are asked to regard this person as a child of “Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” As such, this person, though imperfect, is deserving of what the talmudic Rabbis call z’chut avot (the merit of the ancestors), the ancestral connection that guarantees God’s mercy.

With the reference to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Abravanel seems to be speaking primarily of responsibility to the Jewish community; we can, however, expand his words to include all descendants of these three forefathers–this would certainly include all Christians and Muslims, but we might more generally say that we cannot be sure anymore who is descended from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and thus should extend the definition of achikha to all of humanity.

Third, in Abravanel’s formulation, we should consider the care of the poor as a means of building the community as a whole. In the most utilitarian formulation of this idea, we might say that contributing to the education of the poor helps to guarantee a better educated and therefore more productive society; that helping the poor to buy property increases the number of homeowners in a given place and therefore raises the value of all housing stock; or that job training and small business loans for the poor increase the economic viability of an entire community.

A rabbinic story tells about a group of people traveling in a boat. One passenger takes out a drill and begins drilling a hole under his seat. The other passengers, quite understandably, complain that this action may cause the boat to sink. “Why should this bother you?” this man responds, I am only drilling under my own seat.” The others retort, “But the water will rise up and flood the ship

31 for all of us!” ( Vayikra Rabbah 4:6 ). The moral of this story is clear: one person’s destructive action may literally drown the entire community. But we might add that the inverse is also true: a single positive change may transform an entire community. Thus, the alleviation of poverty, even in the smallest detail, may help the community as a whole to flourish.

Rather than consider the poor person a drain on our resources, we may regard a gift to this person as an investment in the future of the community. With monetary assistance, today’s beggar may be tomorrow’s community leader and himself or herself a giver of tzedakah. The Paradox of Poverty

A striking feature of the Deuteronomy passage is the apparent contradiction between verse four, “There shall be no needy among you,” and verse eleven, “For the poor will never cease from the land.” We expect the omnipotent God of the Torah to keep promises; we are therefore surprised to hear the Torah promise to eradicate poverty and then, almost in the same breath, admit that this promise will never be fulfilled.

Noting the conditional nature of the promise to eradicate poverty “if you diligently listen to the voice of Adonai your God,” most traditional commentators understand the passage as a prediction that the Jewish people will never fully obey the commandments.

While holding out a utopian promise of the reward for full allegiance to the mitzvot (commandments), God, according to these commentators, simultaneously prepares for the inevitability of the people’s disobedience.

If we accept that God’s promise in this passage relies on a condition that humans can never meet, we encounter at least two problems. First, such an interpretation contradicts a basic principle of rabbinic exegesis–the idea that every word of the Torah has a purpose.

Second, this suggestion raises an even more fundamental theological problem. If human beings are to hold ourselves responsible for observing the commandments of the Torah, we need to believe that God, at least, believes that we are capable of following these commandments. It would seem a betrayal of trust for the Torah to set out expectations that God already knows we will not fulfill.

Many commentators thus seek an alternative resolution of the apparent contradiction between the assurance that “there shall be no needy among you” and the warning that “the poor will never cease from your land.” Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban) writes:

“For the poor will never cease from the land” [means] it is impossible that the poor will permanently disappear. [Moses] mentions this because, having assured them that there would be no needy if they observed all of the commandments, he goes on to say, “I know that not every generation, forever, will observe all of the commandments to the point that there is no longer any need for commandments concerning the poor. For perhaps, at certain times, there will be needy, and therefore, I am commanding you for the case in which they are present. And the text says, “in your land,” to refer to the entire area of habitation, for the promise that there will not be poor among you applies “in the land which God is giving you as an inheritance,” as long as you fulfill

32 all of the commandments there; then, it says that it is possible that, in some period or place in which you have settled, there may be a poor person among you. For the meaning of “in your land” refers to all of your settlements–in the land of Israel and outside of the land of Israel. And the meaning of “the poor person in your land” is that this phrase refers both to your brethren and to all of the poor of your land. (Ramban’s commentary to Deut. 15 )

With this explanation, Ramban portrays the biblical text as optimistic but realistic. According to his reading of this passage, the Jewish people will generally observe the commandments, but will not always do so perfectly. Even if one generation succeeds in temporarily eradicating poverty, the possibility remains that poverty will resurface in another generation. Thus, the Torah anticipates a perfected world, but it plans for an imperfect one.

What is the Best Approach? A common debate among those involved in antipoverty work concerns the relative value of direct service addressing immediate needs and of advocacy or organizing addressing the need for systemic change. Advocates for direct service argue that the hungry need to be led today and that the homeless need somewhere to sleep tonight. Those who prefer organizing or advocacy point out that soup kitchens and shelters will never make hunger and homelessness disappear, whereas structural change might wipe out these problems.

The Deuteronomic response to this debate is a refusal to take sides, or better, an insistence on both. Rather than advocate exclusively either for long-term systemic change or for short-term response to need, this passage articulates a vision that balances the pursuit of lull economic justice with attention to immediate concerns. In this reading, the text in question becomes a charge to work for the structural changes that will eventually bring about the end of poverty while also meeting the pressing needs of those around us.