S.A.L.T - PARASHAT RE'EI

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            The Torah in Parashat Re’ei introduces the law of shemitat kesafim – the remission of debts in the shemita year (15:1-3).  Recognizing that prospective lenders might be hesitant to lend money as the shemita year approaches, the Torah issues a specific warning against denying needy people loans before shemita.  The Mishna in Masekhet Shevi’it (10:3) famously relates that during the time of the great sage Hillel, there was widespread violation of this warning, and lenders refused to lend money before the onset of the shemita year.  Hillel therefore instituted the pruzbul document, whereby a lender submits his loans to the Beit Din, which allows him to collect the debts after the shemita year.

            A number of Rishonim addressed the question of why a special document was needed to resolve this dilemma.  The Gemara in Masekhet Makot (3b) states that a lender can stipulate at the time of the loan that he grants the loan on condition that the debt remains intact after shemita.  Such a condition, the Gemara establishes, is binding.  Seemingly, then, if prospective lenders grow anxious as the shemita year approaches, they can simply include this condition in the contract, and then they can collect their debts even after shemita.  This simple solution ensures that loans will be granted even before shemita without risk to the lenders.  Why did Hillel have to resort to the more complicated concept of pruzbul?

            The Ritva, in his commentary to Masekhet Makkot, suggests several answers.  First, people might forget to add this stipulation at the time of the loan.  The pruzbul system has the advantage of enabling one to avoid shemitat kesafim even after the loan was made without any conditions attached.  Secondly, the Ritva explains, a lender would not want to give the impression that he does not intend on receiving the money by the time stipulated in the contract.  Shemitat kesafim cancels a debt only if the payment date had already arrived before shemita.  If a lender would add a clause the contract stipulating that he may collect the debt even after shemita, the borrower might erroneously take this to mean that the lender does not expect to be repaid on time.  Lenders would therefore hesitate to include such a clause in the contract.  Furthermore, the Ritva adds, an explicit stipulation to this effect would appear as an expression of disdain for the mitzva of shemitat kesafim, which we should certainly avoid.  Finally, he explains that if it became standard to add a stipulation overriding shemitat kesafim, this halakha would be forgotten.  The institution of pruzbul requires all lenders and depositors to sign a special contract before shemita year, thereby ensuring ongoing awareness of the mitzva of shemitat kesafim.

            The Bekhor Shor commentary to Masekhet Makkot (cited by the Minchat Chinukh, mitzva 480), suggests a much different answer.  He asserts that if a borrower refuses to accept this condition, and, as a result, the lender refuses to extend the loan, then the lender is in violation of the prohibition against refusing loans before shemita.  True, if both parties agree to this stipulation, then it can be effective in ensuring that anxious lenders would not violate this law.  But allowing this condition does not suffice for situations where the borrower refuses to accept any conditions, for in such cases the lender, if he refuses to grant a loan, would indeed transgress this Torah prohibition.

Sunday

            Yesterday, we discussed the Torah’s warning in Parashat Re’ei (15:9) not to withhold loans before the shemita year out of fear that the loan will be cancelled during shemita.  In order to help ensure that people would not transgress this prohibition, the sage Hillel instituted the pruzbul system whereby lenders submit a document to a Beit Din before shemita transferring the debts to the court’s authority, as a result of which they are unaffected by shemita.  As we saw, several Rishonim and Acharonim raise the question of why this was necessary, in light of the fact that a lender can simply make a condition at the time of the loan that he will be entitled to collect the debt even after shemita (Makkot 3b).  The Bekhor Shor (cited by the Minchat Chinukh) suggested that the pruzbul was necessary because of the possibility that a borrower will refuse to accept any conditions on the loan.  According to the Bekhor Shor, if a person denies a loan request because of the borrower’s refusal to add such a provision to the contract, then he is in violation of the Torah’s prohibition against refusing loans due to the fear of shemita.  In order to avoid such violations, Hillel decided to institute the pruzbul system.

            Rav Yerucham Perlow, in his commentary to Saadia Gaon’s Sefer Ha-mitzvot (asei 25), infers from the comments of several Rishonim that they did not accept the Bekhor Shor’s premise.  In their view, if a prospective lender is prepared to extend a loan on condition that it will not be affected by shemita, but the borrower refuses to accept this provision, the lender does not violate the prohibition against denying loans before shemita.  Rav Perlow notes that several Rishonim address the aforementioned question and do not suggest the answer proposed by the Bekhor Shor, perhaps indicating that they rejected his premise.  Rav Perlow also cites the comments of the Rashba (Gittin 36) from which it appears that he did not accept such a notion.  According to these Rishonim, one violates the prohibition only if he refuses to extend a loan before shemita under any circumstances.  But if he offers to grant the loan on condition that he could collect the debt after shemita, and the borrower refuses, the lender has not violated this prohibition.

            Rav Shemuel Rozovsky of Ponivezh (Shiurei Rabbi Shemuel – Makkot) analyzed this debate by probing the nature of the halakha allowing loans made on condition that the lender can collect after shemita.  The Ketzot Ha-choshen (67:8) explained that in such an arrangement, the borrower does not agree to suspend shemitat kesafim, but rather makes a new commitment to the lender if he does not pay before shemita.  By accepting the condition, the borrower declares that even if he does not repay before shemita, and the loan is therefore cancelled, he will compensate the lender.  The loan is cancelled by shemita, but the borrower will pay the sum anyway as compensation.  His payment is thus a compensatory obligation, not repayment of the original loan.  The alternative to the Ketzot’s formulation is to say that this condition prevents shemitat kesafim from affecting the loan.  If a loan is given on condition that it can be collected after shemita, then the borrower’s original debt to the lender remains intact and is unaffected by shemita.  The borrower does not assume a new payment obligation after shemita, but rather remains bound to pay the original debt, as though the shemita year never arrived.

            Rav Shemuel noted that these two formulations might yield different conclusions regarding the issue raised by the Bekhor Shor.  According to the Ketzot’s analysis, it stands to reason that if the borrower refuses to accept this condition, and as a result the lender denies the loan request, he has indeed transgressed a Torah prohibition.  A prospective lender has no right to force the borrower to commit himself to a payment which he is not obligated to make.  The borrower’s refusal to make a new commitment does not absolve the lender of his obligation to agree to the loan despite the imminent onset of shemita.  This might not be the case, however, if we view the condition as blocking the effects of shemitat kesafim.  According to this perspective, the law of shemitat kesafim is inherently limited to loans that are made without a condition attached; the system itself has a “built-in feature” allowing the lender to collect his debt after shemita by making a clear stipulation to this effect.  It thus stands to reason that if the lender agrees to extend a loan on this condition, which is within the parameters of shemitat kesafim, he does not commit a violation if the borrower refuses to accept this condition.

Monday

            As discussed in our last two editions of “S.A.L.T.,” the Torah in Parashat Re’ei introduces the law of shemitat kesafim, which cancels debts that are unpaid by the end of the shemita year.

            The question arises as to whether this aspect of the shemita year bears any connection to the other aspect of shemita – namely, the agricultural aspect.  During shemita, farmers are forbidden from engaging in agricultural work, and all existing produce in the fields are rendered ownerless and freely available to all.  What connection might there be between the agricultural laws of shemita and the institution of shemitat kesafim?

            Instinctively, we might point to the theme of socioeconomic equality, the fact that during shemita all members of the nation occupy the same rung on the socioeconomic ladder.  In order to remind us that we are all, without exception, servants of God and equal “surfs” on his land, once in seven years all the land in Eretz Yisrael is equally shared by the entire nation.  By the same token, it would seem, we are to eliminate our mutual financial obligations, so that no one is indebted to another person.  During shemita, we remind ourselves that ultimately are all indebted only to the Almighty, as all property on earth is, essentially, His, including the money we had borrowed.

            This point of connection, however, does not explain one striking anomaly – the fact that shemitat kesafim takes effect only at the end of the shemita year.  If the remission of debts is meant to underscore our sense of equality and shared status as subjects of God – the primary theme of shemita – why does this halakha apply only once the shemita year ends?

            The Netziv, in his Ha’amek Davar (to 15:2), draws a more direct, practical connection between the two aspects of shemita, one which easily explains why shemitat kesafim takes effect only at the end of the shemita year.  Farmers often required loans for the purchase and upkeep of their lands, and for the expenses entailed in producing crops.  They needed money for laborers, tools, seeds, fertilizer, and other materials, and we can imagine that they did not always have sufficient fluid cash available during the planting season to cover their expenses.  It was therefore common for farmers to borrow money during the sowing season and then pay their debts when they began selling produce and earning profits.  At the end of the shemita year, however, this income did not arrive.  In other years, the early autumn season brought a steady flow of income that enabled farmers to pay their creditors.  But as the shemita year came to a close, the farmer, who had been unable to produce or sell crops, found himself without income.  The Torah therefore cancelled debts at the end of the shemita year, when many farmers’ loans were due, in consideration of the fact that they had no income with which to repay the debts.

            The Netziv’s approach (as noted by Tomer Moskowitz at http://www.daat.ac.il/mishpat-ivri/skirot/326-2.htm) helps explain another seemingly peculiar aspect of shemitat kesafim – namely, the institution of pruzbul which was enacted to circumvent it.  The Mishna (Shevit’t 10:3) tells that Hillel created this institution upon noticing the widespread phenomenon of prospective lenders denying loan requests before or during the shemita year, in violation of an explicit Torah prohibition.  It seems odd, at first glance, that Hillel solved the problem by institutionalizing precisely what the Torah sought to prevent.  The Torah’s intent was to free borrowers from their debts, and Hillel ensured that no debts would ever be cancelled.  Hillel’s enactment could perhaps be explained off the backdrop of the transition from an agrarian to a commercial society that occurred during the later part of the Second Temple era.  The ones requesting loans weren’t farmers, but merchants and entrepreneurs seeking to build or expand a business.  Prospective lenders, understandably, resented the possibility that they would have to waive debts owed by wealthy businessmen.  Hillel recognized that under the new realities, a halakhic mechanism was needed to accommodate lenders and borrowers.  Therefore, building upon the provision that loans submitted to the authority of Beit Din are excluded from shemitat kesafim, he enacted the pruzbul system, a halakhically-sound method of facilitating loans without violating Torah law.

Tuesday

            In Parashat Re’ei (as we’ve discussed in our last several editions of S.A.L.T.), the Torah establishes the law of shemitat kesafim which cancels outstanding debts at the close of the septennial shemita year.  The Torah warns: “Guard yourself, lest your heart harbor evil thoughts, saying, ‘The seventh year, the shemita, is approaching,’ and you will be stingy toward your brother, the pauper, and not give him; he will then call out to the Lord because of you, and you shall be guilty of sin” (15:9).

            The Torah here foresees the possibility that a person approached with a loan request might respond with “ve-ra’a einekha” – literally, “you shall look badly.”  The phrase ro’a ayin, or ayin ra’a, often refers to selfishness and stinginess, and this might likely be its meaning in this context – a selfish refusal to take a financial risk in order to assist a fellow Jew in need.  The Maggid of Dubnow, however, interprets “ve-ra’a einekha” as referring to unfairly passing negative judgment.  A potential lender may convince himself – and, even worse, convince others – not to help the person requesting a loan because of his perceived unworthiness of assistance.  He will find or imagine a negative quality in the person in need to justify denying him the help he desperately needs.  “Ve-ra’a einekha” might thus refer to baselessly discrediting the requester as an excuse for not giving.

            The Maggid’s interpretation becomes especially insightful in light of the context of the Torah’s warning – “the seventh year, the shemita, is approaching.”  When somebody is approached for a loan as the shemita year looms, he might instinctively accuse the person of specifically seeking a loan at that time with the intent of delaying payment until after shemita so he will never have to repay the debt.  This circumstance in particular lends itself to the reaction of “ve-ra’a einekha,” of unfounded suspicion.  The Torah warns us to grant assistance to those who need it without concocting baseless accusations to discredit them.

            Unfortunately, today’s reality compels us to suspect strangers who request assistance – and this reality existed already in Talmudic times: “Rabbi Elazar said, let us be grateful to the frauds, because if not for them we would sin every day” (Ketubot 68).  Rabbi Elazar excused the common phenomenon of refusing to give loans or charity on the basis of the unfortunate need to suspect everyone who asks for assistance.  Nevertheless, the warning of “ve-ra’a einekha” should perhaps remind us to exercise care in this delicate area, and not to jump to unfounded conclusions about people’s integrity.  Once a person is determined to indeed be in need of assistance, we should lend it lovingly, rather than try to find a basis for discrediting him or her as unworthy of our help.  Just as we are naturally careful not to give charity to those who do not need it, so must we be careful not to deny charity to those who do.

Wednesday

            Yesterday, we noted the verse in Parashat Re’ei in which the Torah warns against refusing to grant loans as the shemita year approaches: “Guard yourself, lest your heart harbor evil thoughts, saying, ‘The seventh year, the shemita, is approaching,’ and you will be stingy toward your brother, the pauper, and not give him; he will then call out to the Lord because of you, and you shall be guilty of sin” (15:9).  The Torah requires those who are capable of granting loans to be prepared to lend money to those in need despite the risk of losing the money permanently as a result of the debt’s cancellation at the end of the shemita year.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Ketubot (68a) observes that the word “beliya’al” (“evil”) which appears in this verse is also used earlier in this parasha, in its discussion of the ir ha-nidachat, the idolatrous city which the Torah requires the nation to destroy.  In describing the situation of the ir ha-nidachat, the Torah writes, “If you hear of one of your cities…that evil people [anshei benei beliya’al] left from your midst and led their townspeople astray…” (13:13-14).  On the basis of this association between the two contexts, the Gemara establishes, “Whoever turns his eyes away from charity is as though he worshipped idols.”  Ignoring the plight of the needy is deemed akin to idolatry.

            How might we explain this comparison between refusing to assist those in need, and idol worship?

            Rav Simshon Rafael Hirsch, in his Torah commentary, explains, “It is God, in Whose Name every demand for help comes to us, and to deny paying sufficient attention to any such demand is equivalent to denying God and making money your idol.”  Quite simply, the pauper who desperately cries for help does so in the Name of God, who has commanded us to support the poor.  Denying his request, then, is akin to denying God’s authority.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, explains differently, noting the specific context of the term “beliya’al” in the section dealing with the ir ha-nidachat.  The Torah uses this word to describe not simply idolaters, but rather those who actively promote idolatry, who persuade their townspeople to worship foreign deities.  If the Gemara draws an association between the term “beliya’al” used in reference to advocates of idolatry, and the use of this word to describe refusal to help the needy, then we should perhaps conclude that denying requests for charity is somehow similar to disseminating false beliefs.  The Yalkut Yehuda cites a passage from the Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 34) that demonstrates how charity “brings peace” between God and the pauper.  The condition of helpless deprivation can naturally lead a person to question divine justice or deny God’s providence.  Therefore, by assisting a needy person, donors not only alleviate his hunger, but also enhance his relationship with God.  Conversely, then, one who refuses to give charity is deemed “beliya’al,” like the promoters of idolatry, as he potentially leads the poor – albeit indirectly – to deny God’s justice.  Thus, the Gemara perhaps did not intend to compare stinginess to idolatry per se, but rather to the dissemination of pagan beliefs, as refusing to help the poor could indirectly cause people to reject God.

            More generally, performing acts of kindness does more than provide relief to people in distress.  It also makes the world a better, more inviting, more hospitable place to live.  And this, in turn, can help promote the recognition and love of God.  Many people lose their faith out of frustration and resentment over the evil in the world, the suffering that so many endure and which seems so unfair and cruel.  The more we do to help people, the better the world becomes, thereby leading more people to be mindful of, and grateful to, its Creator and King.

Thursday

            The Torah in Parashat Re’ei discusses the special status of firstborn oxen and sheep: “You shall consecrate to the Lord your God every male firstborn that is born among your herds; you shall not shear the wool of the firstborn among your sheep, or have the firstborn of your oxen work” (15:19).  Firstborn sheep and oxen are offered as sacrifices and eaten by the kohanim.  If the animal is unfit as a sacrifice (due to a physical defect), the kohen receives the animal and may eat its meat, but even in such a case, the animal may not be sheared or used for labor.

            The Gemara, in Masekhet Bekhorot (9b), cites a view that interprets this verse as specifically excluding human firstborns from this halakha.  Although the Torah forbids making personal use out of a firstborn animal, it imposes no restrictions on service provided by firstborn males among Benei Yisrael.  Despite their special status, it is entirely permissible to hire them to perform any sort of service.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, notes the implications of this halakha with respect to our conception of the notion of “sanctity”:

A human being’s status of holiness lies in the fact that he is always prepared to benefit others, that he is like an indentured servant to anyone who comes along and seeks favors from him.  A person whose world is only about his own life, and has no interest in getting to know the human street, in working and involving himself on behalf of and to benefit others – such a person is not only distant from the status of sanctity, but also from the title of “human being.”  For good reason, then, they said that one may employ the services of a human firstborn- because a human being’s service on behalf of others does not diminish from his sanctity, but rather enhances it.  And if we would say that he should not serve [other people], this would be the greatest deficiency in his stature of sanctity.

An animal’s status of sanctity is expressed through its disuse, but not that of a human being.  There is nothing more ennobling and “sacred” for a person than benefiting other people, contributing meaningfully to the world in whichever capacity, providing a productive service to mankind.  As the Yalkut Yehuda writes, barring a “consecrated” person from providing service would undermine, rather than express, that individual’s special status of kedusha.  It is specifically by serving, assisting and contributing toward the world and its inhabitants that a person’s kedusha is expressed.

Friday

            Toward the beginning of Parashat Re’ei, Moshe informs Benei Yisrael that upon entering the Land of Israel, they must conduct a special ceremony in the area of Mount Gerizim and Mount Eval, acknowledging the blessing and curse that will befall them for, respectively, the observance and neglect of the Torah.  In describing the geography of the region, Moshe tells the people that the mountains are situated beyond “derekh mevo ha-shemesh” (“the western route” – 11:30).

            The Gemara, in Masekhet Sota (33b), sees in the word “derekh” (“path” or “road”) an allusion to the route that Benei Yisrael were to take in their march to Gerizim and Eval.  Namely, in the Gemara’s words, “Walk along the road, and not through fields and vineyards.”  According to the Gemara’s reading, Moshe found it necessary to remind Benei Yisrael that as they march to the designated region for this special ceremony, they must ensure to follow the paved road, and not tread on agricultural lands.

            The Gemara’s comment perhaps serves as a powerful reminder not to compromise our dignity and manners in our passionate pursuit of lofty spiritual goals.  Benei Yisrael, upon entering the land, were to immediately proceed to Gerizim and Eval to fulfill a once-in-history command of God, to perform a ritual that would define the purpose and essence of the country they would be building in their homeland.  In their zeal and excitement, they may have thought to take the quickest route, even if this route took them through produce-laden fields and orchards that would undoubtedly be ruined if two million people marched through them.  Moshe therefore reminded the people that despite their understandable and admirable enthusiasm for this mitzva, they must follow the paved road.  Religious zeal and fervor do not justify reckless, undignified or inconsiderate behavior.

            We can think of numerous contemporary examples of the phenomenon that the Torah here cautions against – such as speeding or parking illegally in one’s rush to get to the synagogue, overburdening or underpaying employees of a worthy charitable organization in one’s passionate desire to see results, or sacrificing family obligations to devote oneself to an important idealistic cause.  The fervent pursuit of lofty goals must not distract us from our basic responsibilities.  As we march determinedly to perform important mitzvot, we must ensure to follow the “paved road,” to conduct ourselves the right way, to remain courteous and refined, and not sacrifice our basic obligations on the altar of lofty aspirations.