Behar: Taking Care

Nahum M. Sarna, "JPS Torah Commentary: Leviticus," pg. 169

In the agrarian societies of the past, virtually all indebtedness was associated with the land. One borrowed for the purpose of securing seed, implements, or work animals and to defray the cost of hiring laborers. The loan was to be repaid after the harvest. If the crop failed, or if the borrower, for whatever other reason, found [themselves] unable to repay [their] debt, the next step was mortgaging or selling land. And, as a consequence, one who no longer had land to pledge or sell was often forced to indenture [themselves] or [their] children in order to work off the debt. Hence the strong admonitions in chapter 25 against the abuse of fellow Israelites who had been indentured. If an Israelite became indentured to another Israelite and no redeemer come to [their] assistance and [they], [themselves], could not repay [their] debt, there was no recourse except to await the Jubilee, when a general "release" was declared.

Prof. Yairah Amit, "The Jubilee Law: Ideal Legislation," https://www.thetorah.com/article/the-jubilee-law-ideal-legislation

The Jubilee law is unrealistic, but indicates an ideological direction: Israelite society has to be righteous, trying to control the gaps between rich and poor. The Jubilee law is, therefore, an attempt by means of ideological legislation to direct and educate society, to impose divine justice, and thus to ensure the right of all its members to live honorably, with a guaranteed minimum of economic means.

Rabbi James Jacobson-Maisels, "Behar," https://ajws.org/dvar-tzedek/behar-5768/

What is it that allows this return and liberation? What is it that makes possible this radical redistribution? One of the Torah’s central insights is the ultimate lack of human authority over personal (Shabbat), natural (Sabbatical Year) and social (Jubilee) entities—all are owned only by God. We are told in our parshah that “the land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine, you are but strangers and residents with me.” Similarly, Israelite slaves must be freed in the Jubilee year for “they are My slaves, whom I freed from the land of Egypt; they may not give themselves over to servitude.” Land, property, other people and even one’s own self can never truly be controlled by any human, for there is already a divine lien on every object and every person.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, "We Are What We Do Not Own,"

https://www.rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/behar/we-are-what-we-dont-own/

Jewish law rests on the principle that only God owns anything. What we possess, we do not own but merely hold in trust. That is why the concept of tzedek/tzedakahis is untranslatable into English, because it means both justice and charity. In English, justice and charity are radically different. We do justice because we must; we give charity because we may. If I give you £1,000 because I owe it to you, that is justice. If I give you the same amount because I owe you nothing but I think you need it, that is charity. An act may be one or the other but not both.

In Judaism, by contrast, what we possess is not ours. It belongs to God. [God] has merely placed it in our safekeeping. We are looking after it on behalf of God. One of the conditions of that trust is that if we have more than we need, we should share it with those who have less than they need. That is tzedakah: justice and charity combined. [...]

Think of what you posses not as something you own but as something you hold in trust for the benefit, not only of you and your family, but also of others. In life, ask not, “what can I gain?” But “what can I give?” You will travel more lightly and with greater joy. You will enhance the lives of others. You will feel that your life has been worthwhile.

Rabbi Marci N. Bellows, "The Jubilee Year: An Aspiration and an Inspiration," https://wupj.org/library/uncategorized/53513/the-jubilee-year-an-aspiration-and-an-inspiration-behar/

Parashat Behar makes us stop and remember: we’ve got it all wrong. What makes this entire world special and sacred and precious to us is that it is a holy gift from God. The food we eat, the places in which we live, the lands we call home, these are tangible, living examples of God’s magnificent creation. Knowing that we are but borrowing this planet should make us treat it even more carefully and tenderly. This heirloom of myriad generations before us – through many Shmita years and Yovel celebrations of release – must remain a gift for all who follow. [...]

Let us not wait for some future Jubilee year when all these inspiring deeds are to take place. Instead, let us “proclaim liberty throughout the land” (Lev. 25:10) whenever and however we can. Let us recommit ourselves to environmental justice. Let us recommit ourselves to the preservation of human rights and dignities. Let us recognize the abundance which is found in certain parts of our world and ensure that its bounty can be shared by all. Because the earth is God’s, as are all who dwell here.

Rabbi Gary Pokras, "Behar - 5779," https://bethami.org/blog/rabbi-pokras/behar-5779/

Behar is the name, and tzedakah is the game. Many of us have grown up equating tzedakah with giving charity, but the word literally means: “doing right.” We give charity when we are moved to help the less fortunate. We do tzedakah because it is how we are supposed to live our lives, regardless of how we may feel at any given time. [...]

Torah makes no distinction between the value of ‘poor people’ and ‘rich people.’ Instead, it reminds us that we are all [siblings], and we should treat each other accordingly: with respect, dignity and empathy. [...] Torah teaches us what to do “should our [kin] come to ruin.” [Lev. 25:35] It reminds us that tragedy can strike any of us, and that we need each other. Indeed, Behar could very well be a biblical expression of the more modern phrase: “it takes a village.” [...] Behar calls us not only to a life of tzedakah, of doing right, but to create a community of tzedakah, so that we may all enjoy the fruits of the land.

Suzanne Eisinger, "The Mitzvah of Asking for Help," https://www.kveller.com/the-mitzvah-of-asking-for-help/

For Jews wishing to live a more spiritually meaningful life, there is no shortage of available mitzvoth—613 to be exact. And while it’s not technically mentioned in the Torah, I thought of one more that might be worth considering: the mitzvah of asking.

Why asking? Many years ago, I learned an important lesson from a friend who was undergoing chemotherapy for breast and uterine cancer. Her recovery was stressful and protracted and our congregation did its best to help her and her family during their struggle. One day, when we were speaking by phone, Allison shared with me a piece of advice that her friend had once given her: When you need help, ask for it.

[...] It sounds so simple, yet I find I am one of the worst students of this lesson. Throughout life, I have worked, run a home, raised children, and volunteered in the community while only rarely asking for help in return. Why? Asking for help is hard, I have learned. It means admitting that, no, I am not superhuman, no, I don’t have all the answers, and no, I can’t do everything myself. And those are not things I like to admit.

Rabbi Jacob Staub, "Asking for Help," https://www.reconstructingjudaism.org/news/asking-help

Finally I determined that what I could bring myself to say authentically was “I need help.” And to my utter astonishment, everything changed, almost instantaneously. Before I said the words, I felt isolated, besieged, at wit’s end, alone. Afterwards, I saw that I was not alone. I was the father of three wonderful, loving children. There were many people who loved me and would do anything for me. I had attorneys to handle the legal side of things. I did not have to bear the weight of the divorce alone. My breathing slowed and deepened as I sat there.

Most of all, in uttering the words, “I need help,” a veil was lifted from over my eyes, and I saw again that I am part of a larger story, that I am not the author of the narrative of my life. My perspectives and my actions are important, but I do not have control over most things in my life—the actions of others, my health and theirs, the economy, the quality of the air I breathe and the effects of its pollutants. All I can do is the best that I am able to do. And then I have a choice: I can hold on tight and try to maintain control, or I can let go, [ask for help], and trust that I will be able to handle whatever comes next.