 | Western thought tends to hold that what we "own" – what we buy, what we earn, what we produce – is truly and only "ours." Whoever we are and whatever our politics, much that we know about democracy and capitalism assumes this fundamental premise. The idea is so basic and engrained that we hardly notice it – and even more rarely question it. The thing is, though, we've been bumping up against this principle's inherent imitations since we arrived on these shores, since we developed moral conscience, since we climbed down from trees. Especially now, humanity would do well to give it a closer and critical look. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Parashat Eikev 5785 (2025)
At a recent clergy gathering, I watched a colleague prepare to eat the meal before her. She had a ritual that mindfully focused her on what she was about to enjoy.
The ritual got my attention because of how modest but powerful it was to her. Before digging in, before offering a blessing over food, she carefully took a tiny bit of each item on her plate and set it aside to be composted.
After the meal I asked her about her ritual. She chuckled self-consciously, unaware but suddenly unsurprised that anyone watched her. Then after a moment she said, "Yes, it's for God – and it's for the land and my ancestors. I get to eat most, but they get to eat first."
It wasn't quite my theology, but maybe it should be.
In most Western thought, things can be owned outright. If I have it, earned it, bought it, made it, inherited it, found it or received it as a gift, it's "mine" – for the most part, nobody else's. Individualism and ownership are pillars of Western philosophy, law, economics and democracy. Whoever we are, whatever we have and whatever our politics, these ideas are so engrained that we rarely notice them much less question them.
Judaism offers a more nuanced understanding – one that we and our world need now.
On the verge of entering the Land, Torah records God cautioning the people (Deut. 8:12-18):
Parashat Eikev 5785 (2025)
At a recent clergy gathering, I watched a colleague prepare to eat the meal before her. She had a ritual that mindfully focused her on what she was about to enjoy.
The ritual got my attention because of how modest but powerful it was to her. Before digging in, before offering a blessing over food, she carefully took a tiny bit of each item on her plate and set it aside to be composted.
After the meal I asked her about her ritual. She chuckled self-consciously, unaware but suddenly unsurprised that anyone watched her. Then after a moment she said, "Yes, it's for God – and it's for the land and my ancestors. I get to eat most, but they get to eat first."
It wasn't quite my theology, but maybe it should be.
In most Western thought, things can be owned outright. If I have it, earned it, bought it, made it, inherited it, found it or received it as a gift, it's "mine" – for the most part, nobody else's. Individualism and ownership are pillars of Western philosophy, law, economics and democracy. Whoever we are, whatever we have and whatever our politics, these ideas are so engrained that we rarely notice them much less question them.
Judaism offers a more nuanced understanding – one that we and our world need now.
On the verge of entering the Land, Torah records God cautioning the people (Deut. 8:12-18):
| פֶּן־תֹאכַ֖ל וְשָׂבָ֑עְתָ וּבָתִ֥ים טֹבִ֛ים תִבְנֶ֖ה וְיָשָׁבְתָ: וּבְקָרְךָ֤ וְצֹאנְךָ֙ יִרְבְּיֻ֔ן וְכֶ֥סֶף וְזָהָ֖ב יִרְבֶּה־לָּ֑ךְ וְכֹ֥ל אֲשֶׁר־לְךָ֖ יִרְבֶּה: וְרָ֖ם לְבָבֶ֑ךָ וְשָׁכַחְתָ֙ אֶת־יְהוָֹ֣''ה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ הַמּוֹצִיאֲךָ֛ מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם מִבֵּ֥ית עֲבָדִים: הַמּוֹלִ֨יכֲךָ֜ בַּמִּדְבָּ֣ר | הַגָּדֹ֣ל וְהַנּוֹרָ֗א נָחָ֤שׁ | שָׂרָף֙ וְעַקְרָ֔ב וְצִמָּא֖וֹן אֲשֶׁ֣ר אֵין־מָ֑יִם הַמּוֹצִ֤יא לְךָ֙ מַ֔יִם מִצּ֖וּר הַחַלָּמִישׁ: הַמַּאֲכִ֨לְךָ֥ מָן֙ בַּמִּדְבָּ֔ר אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹא־יָדְע֖וּן אֲבֹתֶ֑יךָ לְמַ֣עַן עַנֹּתְךָ֗ וּלְמַ֨עַן֙ נַסֹּתֶ֔ךָ לְהֵיטִבְךָ֖ בְּאַחֲרִיתֶךָ: וְאָמַרְתָ֖ בִּלְבָבֶ֑ךָ כֹּחִי֙ וְעֹ֣צֶם יָדִ֔י עָ֥שָׂה לִ֖י אֶת־הַחַ֥יִל הַזֶּה: וְזָכַרְתָ֙ אֶת־יְהוָֹ֣''ה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ כִּ֣י ה֗וּא הַנֹּתֵ֥ן לְךָ֛ כֹּ֖חַ לַעֲשׂ֣וֹת חָ֑יִל לְמַ֨עַן הָקִ֧ים אֶת־בְּרִית֛וֹ אֲשֶׁר־נִשְׁבַּ֥ע לַאֲבֹתֶ֖יךָ כַּיּ֥וֹם הַזֶּה | "When you've eaten your fill, and built fine houses to live in, and your herds and flocks multiplied, and your silver and gold increased, and everything you own has prospered, beware lest your heart grow haughty and forget YHVH your God – who freed you from the land of Egypt, the house of bondage; who led you through the great and terrible wilderness with its fire serpents and scorpions, a parched land with no water in it, who brought forth water for you from flinty rock; who fed you in the wilderness with manna that your ancestors had never known, all to refine you by hardships, to benefit you in the end. Lest you say to yourselves, “My own power, the might of my own hand, won this wealth for me" Remember that it is YHVH your who gives you the power to get wealth, to fulfill the covenant made on oath with your ancestors, as is still the case." |
Put another way, nobody is born on third base and gets to think they hit a triple. Nobody gets to have and believe what they have attributable only to themselves. Each of us stands on wide shoulders. However hard we work, however diligent our efforts, each of us is a product of teachers, opportunities we did not create, advantages we did not manufacture, and bounties we neither planted nor sowed.
Jewish life long held that everything first belongs to God, and therefore we must bless God over it before using it. To do otherwise, taught our ancestors, is to "steal from God" (Talmud, Berakhot 35b; Malakhi 3:8). On Yom Kippur, we'll invoke the prophet Isaiah's call that we most potently express our gratitude by acting righteously – giving to others, calling out wrongful behaviors, putting others' needs first (Isaiah 58:6-8).
Long before, Torah made clear that even land could not truly be owned privately (Lev. 25:23): "The land is Mine: you are but resident sojourners with Me." Torah understood viscerally how 1854 Suquamish tribal leader Seathl (Seattle) famously responded to the U.S. government's request to buy the land where his tribe resided:
Jewish life long held that everything first belongs to God, and therefore we must bless God over it before using it. To do otherwise, taught our ancestors, is to "steal from God" (Talmud, Berakhot 35b; Malakhi 3:8). On Yom Kippur, we'll invoke the prophet Isaiah's call that we most potently express our gratitude by acting righteously – giving to others, calling out wrongful behaviors, putting others' needs first (Isaiah 58:6-8).
Long before, Torah made clear that even land could not truly be owned privately (Lev. 25:23): "The land is Mine: you are but resident sojourners with Me." Torah understood viscerally how 1854 Suquamish tribal leader Seathl (Seattle) famously responded to the U.S. government's request to buy the land where his tribe resided:
The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them? ...
We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the dew in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man all belong to the same family.
The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors.... The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father. The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give the rivers the kindness that you would give any brother.
If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life that it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also received his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.
Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.
This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
One thing we know: our God is also your God. The earth is precious to him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.
We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the dew in the meadow, the body heat of the pony, and man all belong to the same family.
The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors.... The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father. The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give the rivers the kindness that you would give any brother.
If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life that it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also received his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow flowers.
Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.
This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
One thing we know: our God is also your God. The earth is precious to him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator.
I'm not exactly a socialist, but the earth is teaching us how right Chief Seattle was, and how right Torah is. They're teaching loud and clear, but I'm not sure we're learning.
But we can. We can live as if all belonged to God and we're just sojourners passing through. Imagine if we could hold in stewardship for others and the future, not in possession with tight hands, all that we claim to "have." Imagine eating, like my colleague reminded me, so that we eat most but the land and our ancestors eat first.
But we can. We can live as if all belonged to God and we're just sojourners passing through. Imagine if we could hold in stewardship for others and the future, not in possession with tight hands, all that we claim to "have." Imagine eating, like my colleague reminded me, so that we eat most but the land and our ancestors eat first.
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