A bit homesick during Pesach break, I picked up The World of Our Fathers, by Irving Howe, at a used bookstore. An account of the formation of turn-of-the-century New York labor unions inspired me. It described first the women who, responding to tragic cases of negligence and abuse by their bosses, rose up en masse. This affected the men who received similar treatment in other industries. Encouraged by the success of the women, they took it yet one step further, organizing their ranks with a determined pride and vigor. Howe quotes Abraham Rosenberg, president of ILGWU (International Ladies' Garment Workers' Union):
"About two o'clock some members of the strike committee went to the cloak district to see how the order of the strike committee would be received…Among those who were eager to see whether the workers would respond were Abraham Cahan and Benjamin Schlesinger, editor and manager of the Forward. Our people were naturally excited, their hearts beat fast, and every minute seemed an age to them. When at ten minutes past two there was no worker to be seen, Cahan ironically asked, "Well, where are your strikers…?" Hardly had he spoken, when we saw a sea of people surging out of the side streets toward Fifth Avenue…By half past two, all the streets were jammed with thousands of workers…Many of the most devoted members cried for joy at the idea that their lifelong labors had been crowned with success. In my mind I could only picture to myself such a scene taking place when the Jews were led out of Egypt."
What is yetziat Mitzrayim (going out of Egypt) if not a mass strike of ill-treated workers? The taskmasters are the bosses, and Egypt is the American society that allowed the oppression to happen, in its fervor of building the sphinxes and pyramids of Madison Avenue. It took the Jews to finally see the oppression; they "cried out at the harshness of their labors," got together and breathed deeply the values of their tradition, "…and G-d remembered the covenant he made with their fathers..."
Coming after Pesach and the new commemorative days of Medinat Yisrael (the State of Israel), Parshat Behar is a main source of the liberation wisdom that fuels our tumultuous history with meaning today.
"If your brother becomes impoverished and his hand falters in your proximity, you shall strengthen him-proselyte and resident-so that he can live with you. Do not take from him interest and increase, and you shall have fear of your G-d."
Galut (exile) mentality got us into a curious position. Rich and politically powerful (historically speaking), today's Jews would seem fortunate in comparison to times past. Meanwhile, a time-bomb ticks. Due to extraordinary pressures of assimilation, most of us do not marry other Jews, nor do we learn our tradition. Few of us set foot in a house of prayer. We do play a great role in a myriad social justice, environmental, and health/wellness issues, but progress is often slow and met with resistance from both power and population. Globally, we reap the hate, frequently labor in vain, and are cut off from each other. We welcome the tolerance of America, but there is little that is more demeaning than being in a position of having to acknowledge thanks that our host does not openly hate us, for most everyone else seems to.
Right now, thousands of Jews are laid off and opting, like so many others, for unemployment insurance. In the job market, we often look for the best salaries. Isn't it strange that a Jew taps the good graces of a host society, when he lives among many thousands of well-to-do Jews? This is the fragmentation that signals the breakdown of community, and consequently an assimilation in which the guests more and more resemble their hosts.
How did we get into this position? Going back to the Jewish bosses that oppressed their workers, did they not get their start by working for non-Jews, subsequently casting away their communal religious ethic? The poverty of those Jewish immigrants, their wish to provide for their children, and the seduction of American society forced them to make compromises. Working for others and being influenced by their ways, they cast off the G-d of Israel for the god of the American Dream.
The Torah saw it coming, and tells us this week "…do not victimize one another." In many ways this parasha tells us not to be greedy-not with the land, nor with each other.
"If your brother becomes impoverished and his hand falters in your proximity, you shall strengthen him [financially]…" We know from Jewish law that his first responsibility is to see if he can make him a business partner or hire him. When Jews hire Jews, we create the conditions for lasting relationship, financial and social. Only through sustainable structures can we establish a sustainable society.
"…you shall strengthen him-[including] proselyte and resident-so that he can live with you." This is the normal way of life, to be in physical communities, where many people can become familiar with you, that your unique way can be manifest and bless other people that need your skills, your words, your presence. There are many things, easy for you to give, whose benefit to others constitutes its own reward.
"Don't take from him interest and increase." Don't look at your fellow for what he can offer you; rather, seize the moment that you can bless him-with material or verbal encouragement.
By working together we will find the security and self-respect we need, and upon it, ultimately, the path to a Messianic Era. We have all the raw materials: the Land, the Torah faithfully transmitted, and many Jews we can work with and grow to love. By becoming the greenhouse of common endeavor to which the Torah guides us, our example will shine for the whole world. They will ask us to guide them.
May we use the tough times to draw together in mutual care for our brothers and sisters-black or white, rich or poor, FFB ("frum-from-birth"), BT (baal-teshuva), or secular-so that in good times we can rejoice in simply having each other.