In November of 2021, while I was attending the University of Wisconsin — Madison, the school raised the Ho-Chunk flag for the first time in the heart of campus. It was a part of the ongoing “Our Shared Future” program with the Ho-Chunk Nation and the other First Nations in Wisconsin. The University of Wisconsin was one of 30 land-grant universities funded with land taken through treaties with the Menominee, Ojibwe, Dakota, and Ho-Chunk nations in the 1860s. To this day, the University receives over $1 million annually from land taken from Wisconsin Native American Tribes. The University’s efforts are indicative of the United States’ messy history with land acquisition, and BIPOC communities have historically borne the brunt of unjust land tenure.
This problem can also be seen in the distribution of private and public property. In the U.S., extreme disparities exist that can be directly correlated with property ownership. Sixty percent of land in the U.S. is privately owned, and the five top landowners in the U.S. are all white and own more land than all Black Americans combined. This is a direct result of systemic racism, discrimination, and legal exploitation of BIPOC communities, and without a change in how the U.S. manages property laws, the inequity will only continue to perpetuate.
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The question of who gets property and how is a core theme of Parshat Pinchas. In this parshah, Moses takes a census of the Israelite men so that land allotments can be assigned by lottery among the families and tribes of Israel. This becomes problematic for the five daughters of Zelophehad when their father dies and leaves no male heirs. Israelite inheritance laws leave them unable to claim their father’s portion of the land. They petition Moses to grant them their father’s land, and Moses brings their case before God. God responds saying,
The plea of Zelophehad’s daughters is just: you should give them a hereditary holding among their father’s kinsmen; transfer their father’s share to them. Further, speak to the Israelite people as follows: ‘If a householder dies without leaving a son, you shall transfer his property to his daughter. If he has no daughter, you shall assign his property to his brothers. If he has no brothers, you shall assign his property to his father’s brothers. If his father had no brothers, you shall assign his property to his nearest relative in his own clan, who shall inherit it.’ This shall be the law of procedure for the Israelites, in accordance with THE ETERNAL’s command to Moses.” (Numbers 27:7–11)
Not only did God heed their request, God changed the law entirely. The daughters of Zelophehad had previously been disenfranchised by the system but were able to advocate for themselves in order to change the law. Not only does this demonstrate the mutability of revelation, but it also sets a precedent for how we can respond to the unjust means of property acquisition and compensation in the U.S. today.
Eminent domain, or expropriation, is the power by which governments can acquire private property for public use. This practice of land acquisition is centuries old and came to the American colonies with common law. In the U.S., the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution requires “just compensation” for the property acquired and that the land be used for “public use.” Historically, however, this practice has disproportionately targeted disenfranchised populations, often through unfair and unjust means. Land-grant universities, for example, were funded with expropriated Indigenous land acquired through unfair treaties and seizures. The Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956 built many highways directly, and purposefully, through BIPOC communities, acquiring the land by eminent domain. Across the country, descendents of those harmed and displaced by these unjust practices are advocating for their land to be returned to them — just like the daughters of Zelophehad.
In the biblical story, an unjust system denied the daughters of Zelophehad fair compensation because of their marginalized status as women. Similarly, BIPOC communities across America have been denied fair compensation and reparation from centuries of oppression and disenfranchisement. For Zelophehad’s daughters, the law was changed to protect other marginalized individuals in the future; in the U.S., it’s an ongoing legal battle that individuals and communities continually face.
Find more commentaries on Economic Inequality.
The rabbis of the Talmud introduced the idea of mipnei tikkun olam in Tractate Gitin, a concept familiar to many of us as the broad call to repair the world. But for the rabbis, tikkun olam was a more narrow concept used to justify rabbinic interventions in order to safeguard the social order. If the laws weren’t working as they were intended to, the rabbis stepped in to make corrections. This is the same thing God does in the story of the daughters of Zelophehad, and it’s the same kind of mindset it takes to make our own legal system function for everyone. Just like revelation was ongoing, civil law code must also be an ongoing process that adapts to the needs of the community. While raising a flag can be a beautiful act of solidarity, it will take broad legal actions in the spirit of mipnei tikkun olam to create real and lasting reparations.
Public property is necessary. We need schools, parks, and roads, but the process by which that land is acquired must be just and equitable. There are always going to be oversights when establishing a legal system, so we have to be able to respond appropriately when we see that there are problems with the system. The story of the daughters of Zelophehad forces us to consider our own relationship to land and property. We must act as the daughters of Zelophehad and reconcile the injustices we find. The University of Wisconsin has begun this process of reconciliation through its “Our Shared Future” efforts. The raising of the flag symbolically began the process that the university is now backing up with advocacy and policy change. This is the kind of work that must take place across the country, and we can look to the story of the daughters of Zelophehad and the rabbis of the Talmud as models for that process.
Savannah Lipner is a rising second-year rabbinical student at JTS. This past year, she served as an organizing and leadership development intern at Dayenu and rabbinic intern at Hillel at Binghamton University.