It's not just a nice thing to do; it's woven into the very fabric of our covenant with God. to a passage from Sifrei Devarim 110, a portion of the ancient legal commentary on the Book of Deuteronomy. It’s a short passage, but it speaks volumes about how seriously our ancestors took the responsibility of caring for the poor.
The passage begins with a fascinating thought experiment: "I might think (that they take poor-tithe) whether or not they are 'children of the covenant'; it is, therefore, written (Ibid.) 'and the Levite' — Just as the Levite is a 'child of the covenant,' so, all must be 'children of the covenant.'"
What does this mean? Well, the ma’aser ani, the poor-tithe, was a portion of the harvest set aside specifically for the poor. The question raised here is: should this tithe only be given to those considered part of the covenant, meaning Jews? The text answers with a resounding no. The Torah specifies "and the Levite," implying that just as the Levite is included by virtue of being part of the covenant, so too should everyone else who needs assistance. The obligation to care for the poor extends to all, regardless of their background. It's a powerful statement about universal responsibility.
Next, we have the phrase, "and they shall eat and be sated." This isn't just about giving a little something to quiet a grumbling stomach. It’s about providing enough for true sustenance. "Give them enough to be sated," the text emphasizes. This leads to a specific ruling: "The poor man is not to be given less in the threshing floor than a half kav of wheat or a kav of barley."
A kav? What's that? It’s an ancient unit of measurement. While the exact modern equivalent varies, the important point is the principle: there's a minimum amount that must be given to ensure genuine nourishment. It's not enough to just offer scraps; we're obligated to provide adequately for those in need. The rabbis understood that fulfilling this mitzvah required real generosity, not just a token gesture.
Finally, the passage concludes with the phrase, "who are in your gates." This teaches us, "We are hereby taught that we do not send the poor out (of Eretz Yisrael to earn a living)." Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel, held a special significance. The idea here is that the community within the land has a responsibility to care for its own. You don't just ship your problems elsewhere. If someone is in need within your community, you take care of them. The obligation is local, immediate, and personal.
This small passage from Sifrei Devarim offers a profound insight into the Jewish ethos of social responsibility. It's not just about charity; it's about covenant, community, and the inherent dignity of every human being. It challenges us to ask ourselves: Are we truly providing enough? Are we taking responsibility for those within our own communities? Are we living up to the ideals of our ancient covenant? These are questions worth pondering, questions that resonate just as powerfully today as they did centuries ago.