More than almost any other parshah in the Torah, Parshat Emor is packed densely with commandments. ((Parshat Emor has 63 of the 613 mitzvot (24 positive and 39 negative). Only Ki Tetze (with 74) has more.))
Coming fast and furious, there are commandments which define the requirements for the ancient priests, commandments which define the purity of the animal sacrifices in the Temple and commandments which establish the holiday calendar. But tucked among the 63 commandments of Parshat Emor, there is one which the rabbinic tradition elevated to an unusually high status. The Torah says that a Jew “must leave the edges of his field and the gleanings of his harvest for the poor and the stranger,” and the Talmudic tradition decided that this commandment in particular is an indispensable part of the process for conversion to Judaism. ((Leviticus 23:22; see also Yevamot 47a; Mishna Torah, Isurei Bia 14:2, Tur, Yoreh Deah 268:2. Thanks to Rabbi Jeremy Kalmanofsky of Congregation Ansche Chesed, NY for highlighting the importance of this tradition.))
Traditionally, there are two components to the ritual through which a Gentile transforms into a Jew — some address the body and others, belief and practice. With regard to the body, the rabbinic tradition demands that all converts immerse in the mikva, the ritual equivalent of the womb of a Jewish woman ((Moshe Adler, quoted Elyse Goldstein, Revisions: Seeing Torah Through a Feminist Lens (Woodstock, VT: Jewish Lights, 2001). page 125.)), and that men get circumcised in the name of conversion. In these respects, the ritual of conversion replicates the bodily aspects of the covenant between God and Abraham. ((Genesis 17:9-14.))
In addition to these physical changes, the rabbis of the Talmud mandated changes in the thoughts and behaviors of a convert as well. They said that the rabbi ((Conversion, like most Jewish ritual, does not need to be supervised by a rabbi, per se, but simply by an appropriately knowledgeable practicing Jew. However, nearly all conversions today are supervised by rabbis.)) supervising the conversion should inform the convert of the persecution which Jews often face and should choose a few simple and a few complicated commandments to teach the convert. Very specifically, however, the rabbi is also required to teach the convert about the commandment that a Jew must leave the edges of his field and the gleanings of his harvest for the poor and the stranger.
It seems strange that while the rabbis thought that any of the other myriad commandments of the Torah would do in order to explain Jewish law generally, this one had to be mentioned. Why not require that the convert be informed of Shabbat, prayer, kashrut or any of the other mainstays of Jewish life?
Perhaps the rabbis were subtly suggesting that while Shabbat, prayer, kashrut are incredibly important things which Jews do, concern for how the poor and the stranger are going to eat tonight is part of what a Jew is.
From the time of the Torah to today, there have been Jews who have been very interested in observing the ritual mitzvot and Jews who have been less interested — but without a doubt, they have all been Jews. But compassion is seen as such an indispensable part of what it is to be Jewish that a Jew who is cruel is suspected of not being Jewish at all.
The rabbis of the Talmud relate a story in which King David declares that mercy, modesty and benevolence were the characteristics which define who could possibly be considered part of the Jewish people. ((Yevamot 79a; see also the teaching at Beitza 32b – Whoever is not compassionate with people is certainly not a descendant of our forefather Abraham.)) It is as if King David is saying “Of course people who don’t believe in God, or don’t care about Shabbat, or who aren’t interested in kashrut can be Jewish in essence. But can there be Jews who are cruel and indifferent to suffering? No — that’s impossible.” Hundreds of years later, this story was codified as part of Jewish law, establishing that, for communal purposes, someone who is hateful or cruel is suspected of not really being a Jew. ((Mishna Torah, Isurei Bia 19:17.))
It seems the Talmudic tradition wants this particular verse from Parshat Emor to be the one explicit piece of the conversion ceremony in order to make it clear that to be a Jew is to be constantly aware of the responsibility to look out for the hungry of the world. Abraham, the paradigmatic Jew was confronted with three strangers, whom he very well might have thought were non-Jewish idolaters, ((Rashi at Genesis 18:4; see also Baba Metzia 86b.)) and nevertheless, he ran to offer them water, food and shelter. Those of us who imagine ourselves as the heirs of Abraham, either through blood or through conversion, inherit this difficult tradition of unending concern for the well-being of other people. ((See Emmanuel Levinas, Nine Talmudic Readings, trans. Annette Aronowicz (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1990). page 99; also Rambam’s epistle to Ovadia the Proselyte Isadore Twersky, A Maimonides Reader (New York: Behrman House Publishing, 1976). page 476.))
In establishing the instruction to leave the corners of the field for hungry and the stranger, it is as if the rabbis were saying that there are many aspects to being Jewish, but only one of them is essential — to be perpetually turned outward in a posture of compassion, to be perpetually concerned about others.
Reprinted with permission from The American Jewish World Service. AJWS publishes a weekly Torah Commentary that explores a social justice theme in the Torah reading for the upcoming Shabbat. This AJWS Torah Commentary was written by Brent Chaim Spodek, a fourth-year rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary. This series was made possible in part by funds granted by the Charles H. Revson Foundation. It reflects the ideas and opinions of the author and not necessarily those of American Jewish World Service or its partner organizations.