Labor Day

Shabbat Nitzavim-Vayelech, 5762 (2002)

Here’s a riddle from the Talmud:
What’s the difference between a good guest and a bad guest?
After all, they both speak about how much trouble their host has taken to serve them; how much their host has put himself out for them!

The difference is this:
An Oreach tov, a good guest, says:
How much trouble has my host taken to serve me;
How much has he put himself out for me!
How much meat and wine has he set before me!
How many cakes has he set before me!
And all the trouble he has taken—it was only for my sake!

And what does the bad guest, the oreach rah, say?
How much trouble, after all, has my host taken to serve me?
How much, really, has he put himself out for me?
How much meat and wine has he set before me?—I’ve only eaten one slice of meat; I’ve only drunk one cup of wine!
All the trouble he’s taken—it must have been for the sake of his family, not for me! (B. Berachot 58a)

We learn from this story that two people can react very differently to the world around them: one with appreciation; one with disdain. Some people find it difficult to fully appreciate the efforts of those around them.

We, needless to say, are implored to display what is called in our tradition “hakarat ha-tov”—appreciation for what is done on our behalf.

A famous sage from the Talmudic period, Ben Zoma, used to marvel at how much easier our lives are than they used to be. “How much work the first human being, Adam,” he said, “had to do in order to obtain bread to eat! He ploughed, he sowed, he reaped, he bound the sheaves, he threshed and winnowed and selected the ears of grain; he ground them and sifted the flour, he kneaded and baked it—and then at last he could eat! I, on the other hand—all I have to do is to get up in the morning and I find all these things done for me! How much work Adam had to do in order to obtain a garment to wear! He had to shear and wash the wool, comb it and spin it and weave it—and finally, he had a garment to wear. All I have to do is to get up in the morning — and I can find these garments for sale before me.”

If things were easy in Ben Zoma’s time, think how much easier they are today.
There is, though, one unfortunate difference. In Ben Zoma’s day, “the work that it took to sustain a community was far more visible to all who shared its fruits.” (Rabbi Toba Spitzer, “Blessing, Stealing and Labor Day”). Most people lived in small communities in which they knew the others from whose work they benefited, whether they be farmers or shoemakers, seamstresses or shepherds.
Today, we’re often separated by miles—if not thousands of miles—from the workers whose efforts produce the clothing we wear and the food we eat. Moreover, even if we live near or work alongside those workers, we’re separated by other boundaries: those of social class, economic level, … cultural divides. We often don’t have much in common—at least we don’t think we do—with those from whose labor we benefit. And so we hardly think about them and, needless to say, hardly relate to them enough to show them the appreciation they deserve.
In Talmudic days, there was no need for a “Labor Day.” But today, it’s essential that we remember that we are all human beings, whether we earn one dollar per hour or a thousand dollars per hour – or some amount in between.
Human labor is sacred in the Jewish tradition. Needless to say, we are forbidden by our tradition from abusing the needy or the destitute laborer. We must pay his or her wages on the same day. We must never require them to wait, because they might need that money to live on. (See Deuteronomy 24:14-15). We can’t take, as a pledge from a poor laborer, his garment, for it might be the only one he has. (See Deuteronomy 24:12). We must pay fair wages.
But our tradition goes further than that. “Productive labor,” designed to further the needs of others and to support one's self and one's family, “is part of the dignity and purpose of human existence. When the first human beings were expelled from the Garden and sent into the world, God instructed them, ‘by the sweat of your brow shall you eat bread’ (Genesis 3:19). Far from being a curse, this is a manual for survival. And that which we value for the individual should be reflected in the practices of the society in which we live.” (Rabbi Jack Moline, “Labor on the Bima, 2000”).
If, as American Jews, we want to bring the wisdom of our system of values to bear on the society in which we live, then there is much to be said. Honest work should produce, at a minimum, adequate compensation. During Biblical days, a slave-owner -- not an employer, a slave owner! — was obligated to provide for the needs of his workers before meeting his own. In the same way, contemporary employers should place the living wages of their workers ahead of any but the most necessary profit margins.
Has that ideal been met? Not according to the Jewish Community Relations Council. They, together with the Jewish Labor Committee, are supporting the Service Employees International Union (SEIU) Local 615 Justice for Janitors campaign. The Union represents over ten thousand janitors, many of whom are immigrant women, in their contract negotiations. Their current contract expires at midnight tonight; apparently they were due to vote one hour ago [i.e., at 10:00 am] whether or not to empower their leadership to declare a strike.
I thought long and hard about whether to mention this union struggle in my remarks today. After all, struggles between union and management aren’t what they used to be. One only needs to take a look at the sports pages, and read of the pseudo-anxiety that so many baseball fans are feeling right now, to realize how the notion of a strike can conjure up very different images in our minds, depending on whether we are thinking of janitors or baseball players. We’re talking about very different issues in the two cases. The language of “living wage” seems rather inapt with respect to ball players.
Moreover, within any struggle between two groups in any society, there is no black and white. I am not privy to the details of the negotiations in which the janitors are engaged right now, and it’s hardly my intention to endorse any particular resolution of their negotiations.
I do believe, though, that the principle of the living wage is grounded in our tradition. Underpaying workers is, in our tradition, a form of theft. One’s full-time workers should be able to provide for the essentials of life—food, shelter and clothing. They should be accorded the dignity they deserve. Otherwise, one is seeing them in an objectified way, as sources of wealth for one's self and not as human beings entitled to their own life, liberty and well-being. In short, one is not considering them to be equals to oneself – which is precisely what we're called upon to do.
Through its extraordinarily vivid language, our Torah portion reminds us just how important it is to see all those from whose labor we benefit as part of a broad, inter-dependent community:
“You are standing this day, all of you [the text reads] before the Lord your God—
your tribal leaders, your elders, and also the strangers in your midst --
even the ones who chop your wood, and the ones who draw your water”
(Deuteronomy 29:9-10)
From the leaders to the laborers—we’re all equal in God’s eyes! Who are today’s woodchoppers and water drawers? I wouldn't say that they’re our baseball players, but maybe they are maybe they are the folks who collect our garbage, maybe they are the parking lot attendants who park our cars, maybe they are the janitors who clean our offices after we’ve left for the day.
As we prepare to celebrate Labor Day, 2002 -- perhaps with a barbecue, perhaps by engaging in that all-American activity of shopping -- let’s pause to remember the real reason we have a Labor Day—the real reason we need a Labor Day: To remind us of our obligation to treat fairly and to show our respect for the hard working, though often least privileged members of our society, those who literally earn their daily bread by the sweat of their brow.
May Labor Day remind us that, when we refer to "our" community, when we refer to "us" or to "we," we should mean everyone with whom we share the resources of this planet, whether they be the most highly compensated, or the least. And let us show our full appreciation for their efforts.