PARSHAT BEHAR - BECHUKOTAI

By Rav David Silverberg

            The Torah devotes a section of Parashat Behar (25:25-34) to the laws governing the reclamation of sold property.  If a person fell into financial straits that compelled him to sell his property, and he subsequently recovers and is now able to reclaim his property, he and the current owner calculate the price based upon the number of years remaining until the yovel (jubilee year).  Since property would return to its original owner on the yovel, the price of purchased lands would always be determined in consideration of the number of years remaining before they return to the original owner.

            This system does not apply, however, to urban properties – batei arei choma, homes within walled cities.  If a person sold such a home, he had exactly one year to repurchase it, and if he obtained the necessary funds and wished to buy the property back, the buyer would have to resell it to him.  If the seller did not reclaim the property within a year of its sale, then the buyer retained permanent ownership over the home, and it would not return even with the onset of the jubilee year.

            What might be the rationale underlying this distinction between city homes and other properties?  Why does the law of yovel not apply to homes in walled cities?

            The Meshekh Chokhma attributed the law of batei arei choma to the critical role walled cities played during warfare.  Walled cities were the fortresses that protected the population during enemy attack, and from which the army would launch its counteroffensive.  The Meshekh Chokhma notes that had the Torah required the return of homes in these cities to their original owners each yovel, a situation could arise where many, or perhaps most, residents in a walled city would be new arrivals, who hadn’t lived there in years or decades.  The residents’ lack of familiarity with each other and with the ins and outs of the city would put the population at a distinct disadvantage during warfare, endangering them and their property.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, cites those who suggest a different explanation for why the jubilee law does not apply to batei arei choma.  If a person knows from the outset that his stay in a certain residence is temporary, he will not invest too much time or money in maintaining the house.  Had the Torah required the return of residential homes to their original owners on the jubilee, all home purchases would, essentially, amount to rentals.  The buyers – who would in truth be simply tenants – would not invest in the homes’ upkeep, potentially causing widespread damage to homes across Eretz Yisrael.  In order to ensure that the nation’s homes would be properly maintained, the Torah excluded residential homes from the law of the jubilee.

            Homes in cities without walls were generally used in conjunction with the agricultural fields, as temporary shelters for those guarding and working in the fields.  Therefore, the Torah treated them the same way it treated the fields themselves, rather than as normal residences.

            The Yalkut Yehuda also suggested an additional theory, claiming that in an agrarian society, one’s fields played an especially critical role in his life, as the source of his livelihood.  A person can grow accustomed to a new residence and a new city, but he still needs a source of livelihood.  The Torah therefore ensured that sold fields would be returned, but allowed for the permanent sale of residential homes.

            Finally, the Yalkut Yehuda noted that homeowners in residential cities pay taxes toward the maintenance and upkeep of the city.  This was particularly so in cities surrounded by a protective wall, which required regular maintenance.  The Torah did not wish to force a resident who had paid city taxes for many years to leave the city toward which he had contributed so much.  Having paid tax money for the city for many years, he deserved to remain there and benefit from the expenses he entailed.  For this reason, too, the Torah chose not to extend the law of yovel to walled cities.

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            The Torah in Parashat Behar mentions the obligation to support one’s fellow Jew who has fallen into financial straits: “If your brother shall become impoverished…among you, you shall support him – even a foreigner or alien resident – so that your brother may live among you” (25:35).

            The Midrash (Midrash Aggada to Parashat Kedoshim, cited in Torah Sheleima, #226) points to the phrase, “ve-chei achikha imakh” (“your brother may live with you”) as the conceptual basis for the farmer’s charity obligations.  A farmer must set aside certain portions of his field and produce for the poor, because, the Midrash explains, “it is said, ‘your brother shall live with you’ – for the Almighty did not bequeath the earth only to you.”  The obligations of charity stem from the basic premise that “your brother may live with you,” that we are to share the earth’s resources with one another.  Recognizing that “the Almighty did not bequeath the earth only to you,” one is obligated to share his material benefits with those who might otherwise be unable to live a dignified life upon this earth which God has given to all of us.

            This phrase, “ve-chei achikha imakh” appears here in the context of the prohibition of ribit (lending on interest), which the Torah presents in the very next verse: “You shall not give him your money on interest…”  This prohibition, too, likely stems from the concept that “the Almighty did not bequeath the earth only to you.”  When one grants a loan to an impoverished person on interest, he essentially capitalizes on the borrower’s disadvantaged situation.  The absence of available funds enables the wealthy lender to earn profit by charging interest on a loan.  If we live with a keen sense of “ve-chei achikha imakh” – that all people are rightfully entitled to a share in God’s world – then our fellow’s state of destitution is a call to duty, rather than an opportunity for personal gain.  The unfortunate occurrence of poverty demands that we give of our own accumulated resources to ensure that the impoverished can live comfortably with us, and should not be approached selfishly as an occasion for profitable loans.

            The Torah appropriately introduces the ribit prohibition by emphasizing the fundamental precept of “ve-chei achikha imakh,” requiring that we view the world and its resources as assets to be shared among all people, rather than viewing them exclusively as potential opportunities for amassing personal wealth.

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            The end of Parashat Bechukotai discusses some halakhot relevant to proper consecrated to hekdesh – the Temple treasury.  After a person consecrates an object or piece of property to hekdesh, it is then “redeemed” according to its value, by anybody wishing to purchase it from hekdesh.  (The exception to this rule is an animal fit for use as a korban, which must be used for this purpose and thus cannot be redeemed.)

            The Torah adds an interesting provision, requiring that if an individual who had consecrated a home, piece of land or animal subsequently decides to redeem it from hekdesh, he must pay an additional 20 percent above its value.  Meaning, hekdesh would give the animal or property to somebody else for one price, but would sell it to the original owner for a price 20 percent higher (27:13,15,19).

            Chizkuni explained this halakha as intended to dispel the owner’s possible misconception toward the property in question.  The owner may likely feel a certain sense of entitlement toward the property, given that he was the one who had donated it in the first place.  He might feel that he should be given the first opportunity to redeem it, and even for a lower price.  The Torah sought to emphasize that once he consecrated the property, it has completely left his possession and has now entered the “ownership” of hekdesh.  He is therefore required to pay even more than others to retrieve the property, so that he realizes that he no longer retains any rights or privileges toward it once he declared it hekdesh.

            Rav Yerucham Lebovitz explained this halakha differently, on the basis of the well-known concept that “one who begins a mitzva – we tell him to complete it.”  Once an individual initiated a mitzva, he has raised himself to a higher stature, at which more is demanded of him.  If a person took the noble step of generously donating property to hekdesh, he is then held to a higher standard than others.  If he wishes to bring the process to the next stage, giving hekdesh cash that it can then use for the maintenance and upkeep of the Temple, then he must pay even more than others.  Having elevated himself to the stature of generous donor, he must hold himself to a higher standard than others, at least with respect to the property in question.

            Rav Yerucham notes that this halakha thus symbolizes the broader message that the more one achieves, the more he must demand of himself.  The Torah obligates farmers to donate percentages of their produce for various purposes; the more a person’s field produces, the more he must give.  This applies as well to spiritual “produce.”  If a person “begins a mitzva,” if he has been blessed with the ability to raise himself, then he must hold himself to a higher standard than he had previously.  He must now gear himself to meet the next challenges that he confronts on his current level, which are, in all likelihood, considerably more difficult that then ones he had overcome to reach the point where he is now.

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            As mentioned yesterday, the Torah toward the end of Parashat Bechukotai discusses the basic laws of hekdesh, property and objects that one consecrates to the Beit Ha-mikdash.  We saw that the Torah establishes a system of pidyon, or “redemption,” whereby the Temple treasury sells the consecrated item and then uses the funds for the various expenses entailed in maintaining the Beit Ha-mikdash.

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch notes in this context (commentary to 27:14-15) the broader significance and implications of the concept of pidyon hekdesh:

The so called “canonical law” in Judaism is far removed from ascribing to holy articles which have been made holy by human dedication any sacramental, unredeemable, mystic, magic power.  The conception of hekdesh, the Sanctuary, in law is no more than that of a person, its right to property extends in no way any further than that of any private lay person with legal rights… And the whole of this chapter of hekdesh dedication, which shows a pidyon, a redemption, in all cases proves how far removed the Jewish conception of “making holy” is from the ideal of any magical properties, or healing, or other powers being ascribed as being permanently associated with such holy things.  Everywhere it impresses the clear conscious thought, that it is not the thing itself, but the idea behind it – which can be transferred from one object to another – in which holiness lies.

The very concept of hekdesh demonstrates that the halakhic status of “sanctity” does not reflect an intrinsic, mystical quality.  It is rather a purely legal status, one which reflects the centrality of the ideas symbolized by the Mikdash.  Like other legal statuses, it can be applied, revoked and transferred depending on the human being’s free will, as opposed to alleged mystical forces which take effect permanently and as a result of powers beyond the person’s control.

            We might add another possible dimension of the symbolic significance of the pidyon concept.  Just as an object consecrated for the Temple has the possibility of losing this status, similarly, a human being who has lived up to the ideals of kedusha cannot be guaranteed to retain this stature forever.  At no point does an individual achieve an irrevocable and irreversible status of sanctity.  No matter how high a person ascends, how much he accomplishes, and how great he becomes, his “sacred” status cannot be taken for granted.  He must continue working, exerting effort and moving forward to ensure that he maintains his stature of kedusha.  As Rav Hirsch noted, the hekdesh status of objects or land is not the function of some permanent, magical power.  Similarly, one’s personal stature of “hekdesh” is never guaranteed, and at no point does one obtain some independent spiritual power that injects with him permanent, everlasting holiness.  The kedusha status that one achieves must be sustained through the ongoing struggle to overcome his innate sinful tendencies and reach even greater heights of avodat Hashem.

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            Parashat Bechukotai begins with God’s descriptions of the blessings He promises to bestow upon Benei Yisrael in reward for their compliance with the Torah’s laws.  He assures them that their observance will be met with material prosperity, to the point where “you will eat your bread to satiation” (“va-akhaltem lachmekhem la-sova” – 26:5).

            The plain meaning of this verse, of course, is that the land will produce such plentiful amounts of grain that the people will be able to eat “to satiation.”  They will not experience hunger or shortage, as the land will provide enough food to satiate all their appetites.

            Rashi, however, citing Torat Kohanim, famously comments, “He eats a morsel, and it is blessed in his stomach.”  It seems that according to the Midrashic reading, this verse does not refer to agricultural prosperity.  Instead, it speaks of a different blessing – that Benei Yisrael will not need large quantities of food, as their bodies will experience satiation with even a limited intake of food.

            One might wonder why Chazal chose to offer this seemingly strained homiletic reading of the verse.  This blessing appears in the context of the Torah’s description of the agricultural success that will result from abundant rainfall: “I shall provide your rains at their appropriate time, and the land shall produce its yield, and the tree in the field shall produce its fruit.  The threshing shall continue until the grape harvest, and the grape harvest shall continue until sowing, and you will eat your bread to satiation…”  Clearly, God here blesses the people with such abundant food that they will always have the ability to “eat to satiation.”  What compelled Chazal to resort to the homiletic reading, according to which this verse refers to a blessing “in the stomach”?

            It is likely that here – as is often the case – the Midrashic reading comes not to supplant the plain reading of the text, but rather to complement it, or, more precisely, to draw our attention to a concept underlying the plain text.  Unquestionably, as mentioned, God here promises an abundance of grain that will allow Benei Yisrael to eat the quantities they need to experience satiation.  However, Chazal sought to alert us to the fact that the ability to experience satiation is, in itself, a meaningful blessing that we should not overlook.  People have a natural tendency to want more than what they have.  A person may think he requires just “x” amount to meet his needs, to feel satisfied, but upon acquiring “x” he then desires “y.”  The experience of “la-sova,” the ability given to a person to feel satisfied, is no less a blessing than the abundance of food and wealth.

            This, perhaps, is the meaning of the Midrash cited by Rashi.  True, the verse promises wealth and prosperity, which enables a person to feel content.  But this feeling of contentment depends upon an additional blessing – the blessing of “he eats a morsel and it is blessed in his stomach.”  We rely on the Almighty not only for the resources we need, but also to help us feel content and satisfied with those resources, rather than constantly feeling that we need more.

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            Commenting on the first verse of Parashat Bechukotai, Chizkuni writes, “If you do what I charge you to do, then the clouds, earth and trees, which were created for you, will likewise do for you that which is charged upon them to do.”

            Chizkuni here identifies the “midda ke-neged midda” (“measure for measure”) quality of the blessings which God promises in this parasha in reward for Benei Yisrael’s observance of the Torah.  Benei Yisrael, like the natural forces, were created for a purpose: to perform the mitzvot.  If we fulfill this purpose, then God will see to it that the natural forces respond in kind, and fulfill the purpose for which they were created – to help us live securely.

            According to Chizkuni, then, the rewards described here mirror Benei Yisrael’s commitment to the mitzvot.  Nature’s response to their faithful observance will correspond and resemble their loyalty to God.

Chizkuni returns to this theme in his comments to the parasha’s third verse, which describes the extent of Benei Yisrael’s promised agricultural prosperity: “The threshing shall continue until the grape harvest, and the grape harvest shall continue until sowing…”  Chizkuni writes, “Just as you will observe My commandments constantly, without interruption, so will your blessing be without interruption, and there will be no break between one blessing and the next.”  The ongoing, unending blessings yielded by the land parallel Benei Yisrael’s uninterrupted subservience to God.  When we serve God with consistency, then we will be rewarded with consistent blessing.

We might suggest yet an additional parallel along these lines.  The first blessing described in this section is that God will “provide your rains in their proper time” (“ve-natati gishmeikhem be-itam” – 26:4).  The Torah emphasizes that the rains will fall “in their proper time,” when they are most beneficial for the ground.  As Chizkuni comments, “But [if they fall] when it is not the proper time, they cause the grain to spoil.”  It is important that the rains fall specifically at the appropriate points in the agricultural cycle so that they assist in the production and collection of grain, rather than interfere with this process.

This element of timeliness may also correspond to Benei Yisrael’s faithful observance of the Torah.  We must fulfill our obligations “be-itam” – in their proper time.  Not every act is appropriate under all conditions and in all circumstances.  An action or mode of conduct that is suitable in some situations may be wholly inappropriate in others.  One of the great challenges of avodat Hashem is achieving “be-itam,” fulfilling one’s religious duties in a timely fashion, knowing what is expected under each circumstance and at every stage of life.  A servant will not please his master by serving him breakfast in the evening or by preparing warm winter apparel in the summertime.  Similarly, we must determine what the Almighty expects of us on any given occasion, which will often differ from His expectations and demands at other times.

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            Among the rewards that God promises Benei Yisrael in the beginning of Parashat Bechukotai, we find the blessing, “I shall place My Sanctuary in your midst, and I shall not be repulsed by you” (26:11).

            Many commentators noted the obvious difficulty in explaining the final clause of this verse – “I shall not be repulsed by you” (“ve-lo tig’al nafshi itekhem”).  Is this the extent of God’s relationship with Benei Yisrael – that He will not find them “repulsive”?  Does the effect of the Shekhina’s presence among the nation go no further than guarantee that God will not be disgusted by the people?

            The simplest explanation, perhaps, is that the condition of hashra’at ha-Shekhina, the Divine Presence residing among Am Yisrael, results in a strict, exacting standard.  Thus, for example, the kohanim in the Temple must conduct themselves at a particularly strict standard, and the slightest violation of the codes of the Mikdash renders them liable to capital punishment.  Similarly, the Divine Presence requires that all Benei Yisrael conduct themselves appropriately.  The Shekhina’s presence makes it especially “repulsive” for Benei Yisrael to disobey God’s commands, to disregard His laws right in His presence.  God thus promises that so long as they remain loyal to the Torah, His residence among them will not cause “revulsion,” as they will be giving honor to the Shekhina rather than insult and denigrate it.

            Ibn Ezra explains differently, noting that people often become restless staying in one place for an extended period.  As time passes, they eventually decide to relocate in the interest of maintaining a feeling renewal and vitality.  The Almighty promises Benei Yisrael that this would not happen to His relationship with them.  Even after establishing His presence among them and remaining there for centuries, He will not lose interest in them or in His relationship with them.  So long as we remain committed to Him and obey His commands, God will continue to cherish this bond and maintain His presence among us.

            Of course, this promise requires that we, too, avoid the tendency to grow restless and bored with the Divine Presence.  Just as God promises to happily reside among us and rejoice, as it were, in His relationship with His people, similarly, we must commit ourselves to remain enthusiastically and proudly committed to the Torah, year after year, and generation after generation.