It seems to me that Boaz was all too aware of human nature. He knew that often people have the need to feel better about themselves and do so by mocking or belittling those they perceive as being even lower on the “social totem pole.” Boaz was a well-to-do individual, a landowner. The men doing the hard work of manually reaping his fields may have been decent people, yet nonetheless didn’t feel good about their lower status as field hands. Rut, as a woman, a convert and a widow was an all-too-easy target for being mocked, ridiculed, criticized or leered at.
The Torah, aware of this human weakness, makes a strong point of admonishing us not to take advantage of the vulnerable, such as orphans and widows. In fact, in the same chapter where reapers are commanded not to gather up the gleaning of the harvest, there are the following commandments (Vayikra 19: 14): “You shall not curse a deaf person. You shall not place a stumbling block before a blind person, and you shall fear your God.”
We are being told not to belittle or take advantage of the weak, the poor, the naive, the physically or intellectually impaired, the ignorant. (Timeless examples of this are selling a trusting person shoddy goods or hiding pertinent health information about a potential date.)
A person, no matter what his or her status, deserves to be treated in the same manner that one would want to be treated if the shoe were on the other foot.
Every Jew was at Matan Torah. It was not an “invitation only” event directed to the “A” listers: the wealthy, the community machers, the leaders. Young and old, male and female, smart and not so smart – everyone was equal in Hashem’s eyes and worthy of receiving the Torah. Megillat Rut and Shavuot remind us of this crucial fact.
One of the best speeches I ever heard was given by a young lady in her upper twenties who had Down syndrome. She mentioned how she often felt invisible – that people would not return her greeting of Good Shabbos, or invite her to simchas or community events that she felt she should have been invited to. It was a chillul Hashem, she declared. Those who viewed her as being flawed or blemished were basically saying that Hashem had made a mistake! If she was defective or damaged goods, then they in fact were implying that our Creator, the Master of the Universe, had messed up.
Without a doubt, this insightful, young woman was at Har Sinai just like every other Jew. She was included and was equal to everyone there. The Torah is about inclusion, mutual respect and honoring the dignity of everyone who is made in Hashem’s image.
I recently spent Shabbat at BAYT – Beth Avraham Yoseph of Toronto. The shul was celebrating Shabbat Itanu – an inclusion initiative that welcomes clients of several organizations that enhance the lives of those with various developmental or physical disabilities. One was Yeshivas Nefesh Dovid, a yeshiva in Toronto that is the only kind in the world geared specifically to young men with hearing loss.
I have been in many shuls in my day, but I have never been to one where someone signed during the davening. At first I was puzzled – those who are deaf or hard of hearing in shul could surely read from their siddur. Why did they need signing? It took a few minutes for me to realize that signing enabled them to know where everyone else was in their davening, allowing them to literally be “on the same page” instead of praying alone in a big crowd. They were totally part of the “oneness” that is the Jewish people and what Matan Torah is all about.
