When the Lord gave the Israelites the ancient law practices, we have to admit, some of them seemed rather … well, odd. I don’t know if they seemed odd to the Israelites, or if they sort of fit right in to the culture of the day, but to modern-day, Western thought, some of them are downright head-scratchers. But, they all had deep and relevant meaning, and they probably would seem less odd to us if we knew more about the relevance at the time, or even the deeper meanings embedded in them.
And there is a contingent of people who believe that all of the law is null and void, as now we live in an age of grace – as if somehow law and grace were opposites. But they aren’t. Both are necessary, and both have been in play since the beginning, and will remain in play until the end. Jesus never said that he came to abolish the law. He said he came to fulfill it! (Matt. 5:17)
And every once in a while, you’ll come across a law that has real and meaningful relevance, even in modern society. Maybe even MORE relevance in modern society.
That’s how I feel about the gleaning laws.
I think the gleaning laws are a perfect example of where contemplation and activism dovetail nicely. Where “being” and “doing” sit in harmony together. Where literally doing “nothing” becomes doing something profound and helpful in society.
In Leviticus 23:22 (and a couple of other places), the Lord says this – “And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap your field right up to its edge, nor shall you gather the gleanings after your harvest. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner: I am the Lord your God.”
Now, most of us aren’t farmers, so we just sort of coast right by laws like this, thinking they are irrelevant to our lives. But if we tarry here a moment longer, I think we’ll be able to see how this law applies to all of us, and would make for a more just society if rightly applied in our day.
If you are an agrarian laborer, one who relies on the success and productivity of your crops to survive, it would be counter-intuitive to leave some of the harvest just sitting there at the edges of your field. Those stalks all along the edges of your field could yield dozens more bushels of grain that could be eaten or sold for other needed items. And the gleanings are all the stalks of grain that fall on the ground while the harvesters are gathering. Remember that in that day, there were 2 crews working during the harvest – those who walked through with long, sharp sickles, slicing through swaths of standing grain, and the crew that walked behind gathering up those fallen stalks and tying them into sheaves to stand in the field and dry. This was all done by hand, and you were surely going to miss a lot of stalks on the ground. But according to the law, you weren’t allowed to pick those missed stalks up and keep them. You had to let them lie there.
Why?
For the poor and the sojourner – the immigrant, the refugee, the strangers just passing through your land on their way to a new place for various and sundry reasons – to come along and take for themselves.
Ruth, the grandmother of King David and great, great grandmother of Jesus, was a beneficiary of this law. She was a sojourner in Israel – a widow, a foreigner, vulnerable, hungry, scared. And Boaz was a righteous man in Israel – a man who loved God and kept the laws of justice. His keeping of the law resulted in the literal salvation of Ruth, and his inclusion into the bloodline of eternal royalty. His obedience to this law was part of the system of justice in Israel, taking care of the needy and the foreigners. And Boaz went above and beyond. He didn’t just keep the letter of the law, but the spirit of the law, which was love of neighbor. Women, the typical gleaners, were safe in Boaz’s field, which was not always the case. His harvesters were not to touch them, and he provided water and food for them as well. This was not part of the law itself, but it was an extension of the meaning of the law – that the poor and the sojourner would find a place of safe provision, and thus experience the love of the God of Israel.
But what about us? How does leaving the edges of our harvest matter to us?
Well, what is your “field?” Where do you labor? How do you make your living? We reap the edges of our proverbial fields all the time, denying opportunity for the needs of the poor and the stranger. We work well past when we should be finished. We push beyond the reasonable limits of our body’s capacity, creating a chronic fatigue that doesn’t allow us time or energy to invest in others – even those in our own families, let alone the stranger. We push just a little bit more, hoping that it will result in greater productivity, in a more “profitable harvest.” We feel that we never have quite enough, looking for just a little more money to buy one more thing to fill our already overflowing homes. We hold on to the “extras” at the edge of our field, figuring we’re going to need them – and better us than a stranger, right?
Putting more margin in our lives, both in time and in money, is a way to live out the spirit of this law of justice, allowing us to respond to the needs of the poor and the sojourner in our midst. Can we even see the needy when we are so focused on squeezing out every last minute and penny from our day?
Leaving margin on the edges of our livelihood is a way of trusting God to provide all that we need, while we in turn can be used by Him to provide for the needs of others. Give it a try. Look for the “fields” in your life that are stretched and bare because you over-harvest and gather every gleaning. Intentionally decide to leave something there. Leave something undone, giving you time to volunteer at a homeless shelter or a crisis pregnancy center. Evaluate deeply if you truly need that extra “toy,” or if you should put that money to use on behalf of the poor by donating to a ministry meeting the needs of the poor and vulnerable, or by meeting a tangible need for a family that you know is struggling.
Putting margin in our life is a way of making space for justice in our world. It is one way to walk in obedience to the call of God to look after the needs of the poor, the vulnerable, the needy, and the foreigner among us. It is a practical preparation for intentionally ushering in shalom.
What margins can you widen in your life today?