There Is More to Piety than Praying

Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac, who is known more commonly as Rashi, was one of the most influential and prolific Jewish commentators. He lived in Northern France in the eleventh century. He wrote a line-by-line commentary on the Bible as well as an exhaustive commentary on the Talmud. Rashi not so infrequently turned toward his native French language when seeking a concise explanation for a Hebrew word and so his commentaries serve as the primary source for researchers studying Old French.

So influential were his comments that until the advent of the digital age most editions of the Bible and Talmud included his commentary in the margins. Rashi’s approach is direct and concise. I often turn to his wisdom. When struggling to understand the nuances in our Torah I first check Rashi. This week he offers helpful guidance.

In the middle of a chapter devoted to an exposition of the holidays Shabbat, Passover, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot, the Torah commands: “And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I the Lord am your God.” (Leviticus 23)

The placement of this command has always struck me as curious. It appears as a diversion and tangent from the commands of sounding the shofar and fasting. Rashi suggests an answer to my question:

What reason had Scripture to place the law concerning the corner of the field within those regarding the festival sacrifices — those of Passover and Shavuot on this side of it, and those of Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur and Sukkot on the side following it? To teach you that they who leave the gleanings, the forgotten sheaf and the corner of the field to the poor ought to be regarded as though they had built the Temple and offered their sacrifices therein.

Providing for the poor is just as important as all the holiday prayers we offer! Ensuring that the poor not only have enough food to eat but are offered the dignity of gathering their own food is equivalent to all our pious rituals. These acts are even equal to building, and decorating, our sanctuaries.

And I am reminded that Rashi was not just a rabbi who preached to a congregation who occasionally heeded his words. He was instead a winemaker who spent much of his hours tending to the family’s vineyards. (Until modern times being a rabbi was not a paid profession.) His livelihood was impacted by his words. The amount of food he gathered was lessened. His piety increased.

If we want to be truly observant, and really celebrate the holidays, we must care for the poor!

Only then can we truly lift the kiddush cup and respond to our prayers with, “Amen. L’Chaim.”