EXOD252 Many of the biblical figures that our Jewish teachers want us to emulate have a strong sense of their personal insignificance. Abraham, who lived more like a sheik than a poor nomadic herdsman, refers to himself as “but dust and ashes” [Gen. 18:27]. Moses and Aaron, after negotiating with Pharaoh to bring the Jews out of Egypt, ask, “Who are we?” [this verse] David poetically disparages himself, saying: “I am a worm, less than human, scorned by men, despised by people” Psalm 22:7. Such putting oneself “in one’s place” continues as a significant theme throughout Jewish literature. The early 13th century Franco-German sage Judah the Pious counsels: “One should remember that snow begins pure white but soon turns into slush. So we, too, despite our great beauty, will one day become a small heap of worm-eaten matter” Judah Hehasid, Sefer Hasidim, 305. The Spanish mystic-philosopher Nahmanides, living about the same time as Judah, gives this advice to his children: “Let your voice be low and your head bowed; let your eyes turn earthwards—every man should seem in your eyes as one greater than yourselves” Hebrew Ethical Wills. Maimonides explains this austere attitude: “Some believe that it is forbidden to take the middle way when it comes to humility. Rather, they think people should distance themselves as far as possible from the one extreme, pridefulness, and go to the other. Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deot 2:3. For pride, says the Bible, is the great threat to Jewish character and deserves God’s punishment: “God, see every proud man and bring him low” Job 40:11. “God says, ‘I cannot endure the haughty and proud man’” Psalms 101:5 “Adonai abominates haughty people” Proverbs 16:5   The antidote to pride is humility. For centuries, our teachers have sought ways to keep us from becoming people who “Lie back on our beds, sigh, and say in our heart, ‘How great I am’” Maimon, Sarei Meah [The century’s princes].

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EXOD256 The Bible indicates the standard for self-restraint with edibles when describing how God fed the 600,000 people who wandered in the desert for forty years. The miraculous foodstuff God provided every morning of that journey, the manna--a honey-like, sticky substance--was just enough for each person: "The one who gathered much had nothing left over, and the one who gathered little did not lack" [this verse]. To this day, in one of the recent, short versions of the Amidah, our prayer composed of eighteen petitions, we entreat God to give us "enough to live on and... what we need," neither a sumptuous banquet nor bread-and-water rations. Anticipating modern nutritionists, our rabbis urge us to curb yeah our cravings for fatty, sweet morsels by "eating salad and more salad, rather than developing an appetite for goose and chicken" (Pes. 114).

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EXOD307 The larger the group we try to persuade to live together, the harder it is to make everyone happy. One is fortunate, then, if one lives in a community where the justice system is sound and the political life healthy. But even the best social systems require a moral citizenry. The founders of America warned coming generations against fractiousness and factionalism. The need for social unity is equally strong in the Jewish tradition: "Hezekiah said: Great is peace, for the Torah says about the wilderness journeys of the Israelites, 'And they journeyed… and they pitched' [Num. 33:5]. There was sufficient dissension that that people are described in the plural. When, however, they came to Mount Sinai, they all became one camp, as it is stated, 'And there Israel camped before the mount' [this verse]. God noticed that Israel had come together and knew that this was the time to give the Torah to the people of Israel" (Lev. R. 9.9). Knowing the degree of contention and existing between Jews in our time, we are inclined to imagine the notion of a unified Jewish community as another of the Bible's miracles! More significant, though historically questionable, is the report: "Although the school of Shammai and the school of Hillel were in disagreement--what the one forbade, the other permitted--the school of Shammai did not refrain from marrying women of the families of the school of Hillel, nor did the school of Hillel refrain from marrying those of the school of Shammai. This should teach that they showed love and friendship toward another, practicing, 'Love truth, but also peace' [Zech. 8:19]" (Yev. 14b). Trying to extend these attitudes from family and neighborhood to our nation and the world is a critical moral challenge of our time.

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EXOD411 "Fearing" God, Honoring Our Parents. We learn a good deal about this intermediate kind of yirah by looking at its human consequence: "I might not know what the implications of 'fear' are, but when the Torah tells us that we shall rise when the elderly enter and thus fear God, it indicates that we are also required to have deep respect for our teachers as well as our parents and God" (Tan. Beha'alotekha 11). More specifically, the Torah directs us to link yirah with kavod, honor. Leviticus thus commands: "You shall' fear' your mother and father" (19:3). Yehiel b. Yekutiel learns from this: "Just as we must fear and honor the Holy One, Blessed be He, so must we fear and honor our father and mother, as the Decalogue says: 'Honor your father and your mother' [this verse]. God connects anyone who honors and fears his father and mother with fear and honor of the Holy One, Blessed be He. ... Both men and women are obligated to carry out this mitzvah" (Sefer Maalot Hamiddot). This discussion is based on talmudic analysis: "Which aspect of one's service is termed 'fear,' and which 'honor'? Fear: One must not stand or sit in his father's place, or contradict his words, or uphold another in an argument against him. Honor: One must feed his father, give him drink, bathe him, anoint him, clothe him, shod him, and bring him in and take him out (Kid. 31a). Our parents did all this and more for us; shouldn't we at least do the same for them, should they require it? Yet there is more to this duty than simple repayment, for our parents evoke a certain awe in us, a reflection of our respect for them. "Issi b. Judah taught: If your father asks you for some water and you have other mitzvot to do, if they can be done by someone else, let them be done by others so you may occupy yourself with the mitzvah of honoring your parents" (Kid. 32a). When Rabbi Eliezer Hagadol was asked by his students how far they must extend themselves in honoring their parents, he replied: "You can learn a good lesson about this from the conduct of Dama b. Nethina. When his senile mother would strike him in the presence of his friends, he would only say, 'Enough, my mother'" (Deut. R. 1.14). Our special sensibility to parents often increases after they die. When mentioning a deceased parent, people quickly add: "of blessed memory for life in the world to come" (Kid. 31b).

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EXOD499 "The Longest Distance Is to One's Pocket" (Yiddish Proverb). And then there are those who seem almost congenitally unable to let go of any of their money at all: "These are the traits of the miser: He does not give charity, he does not have mercy on the poor, and in business, he does not yield at all. He does not feed or clothe or give pleasure to anyone but himself. And he doesn't trust God, who gave him his money" (Orhot Tzaddikim). Having an atrophied sense of solidarity with the rest of humanity, the miser sneers at those who must receive as well as those who willingly give. "R. Judah said: The miser responds to the poor man with an evil disposition: 'Look at those thighs--look at those legs! See how fat you are! Why don't you go out and work for your food?'" (Lev. R. 34.7) Since the miser thinks only of himself, he says:" I will cut down this fruit tree for its lumber" (Pes. 50b). He is not only indifferent, but downright disdainful of such a tree's promise to produce an edible yield over and over again. By worshiping money, the miser violates the commandment [this verse]. By rejecting the divine spark within everyone, misers commit blasphemy, reducing God to a being as little and mean-spirited as they are.

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EXOD577 Visiting the Sick, Bikkur Holim. "A master said that the Torah's phrase about a man injured in a fight, 'He must walk' [this verse] is, by implication, the source of the commandment that we must visit him until he is up and about. As that master also taught, the bikkur holim of a person the same age as the sick one takes one-sixtieth of the stricken one's illness away with him when he leaves. Although even that slight exposure to illness might deter people from visiting the sick, we have a text indicating that he still must visit him" (Bava Metzia 30b). According to the Hafetz Hayyim, the late ninetheeth century Polish sage, visiting the sick has no fixed measure of stature or time. "Someone who is quite distinguished is required to visit a person of more ordinary accomplishment. Should it be desirable, this mitzvah is to be performed even several times a day" (Ahavat Hesed [Love of kindness]). A non-rabbinic kal ve-homer argument (reasoning that proves from the trivial what is true in a weightier matter): Forward-looking physicians, experimenting with ways to help the elderly keep their dignity as they get frail, have discovered that occasional but regular visits by very young children revitalize nursing home residents, despite significantly raising the noise and activity levels. Their research has also found that cuddling dogs and cats and responsibly caring for plants positively affect the quality and length of life of the aged. If even superficial contact with plants, animals, and kids is beneficial to the elderly (kal), how much more so would be visits by adults of their acquaintance (homer)?

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EXOD818 Two donkey drivers who hated each other were going down the road when a donkey belonging to one could no longer bear its load. The other driver saw this and at first walked by. But then he remembered [this verse]. So he returned and helped his enemy in loading and unloading. Then peace came between them. The two entered an inn, ate and drank together, and became fast friends. Tanhuma. Buber Ed. Mishpatim 1

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EXOD856 Said the school of Hillel to the school of Shammai: If someone makes a peculiar acquisition in the market, should one praise or deprecate it? Surely one should praise it. Based on this the sages taught: One should always try to be pleasant with people" (Ket. 17a). So too "If sexual relations with your wife make you late to the synagogue and people ask why you were delayed, ascribe it to something else" (Bava Batra 23b). The twentieth-century rav, Eliyahu Dessler, concurred: "Sometimes it may be wrong to 'tell the truth' about our neighbor... and sometimes it may be necessary to change details, when the plain truth would injure" (Mikhtav MeEliyahu). When Francie's late mother-in-law suspected that she had a life-threatening illness, she trusted her family to lie to her rather than scare her with the doctor's grim prognosis. Not telling her the medical "truth" about her condition was not totally honest, yet it supported a worry-free atmosphere that assuredly extended her life. There are other times when you must respect a loved one's final wishes and not betray a trust, though every fiber of your being wants you to do so. Francie's mother, the only person in her immediate family to survive the Holocaust, wanted to be cremated as they had been. She also asked that her ashes be scattered, so that no cemetery headstone would mark her earthly remains. She trusted her husband and daughters to carry out these difficult tasks, even though this would hurt them and was contrary to traditional Jewish law. Fulfilling that trust more than twenty years ago was perhaps the hardest task Francie ever faced.

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EXOD1013 Once out of the womb, all of us quickly are taken up by life's incessant demands, as relationships evolve into complicated mixes of emotional power as well as purely positive feelings. Our first bonding experience usually takes place with those in charge of parenting us. But at times their expectations exceed our limits, causing us to disappoint or wrong them. As we get older, we find ourselves in similarly unhappy situations with others we deeply care for. To get back on good terms, the one who errs must express sorrow for what happened, and the other must find enough compassion to accept this apology. Then mercy takes over, for without it, no relationship long endures. Yet its giving cannot be forced. Asking someone to overlook a wrong is like seeking the soothing embrace of a guileless understanding, a freely given gift, an unexpected hug. Compassion for another stems from such a gentle stirring of the soul. As Rabbi Nahman of Bratislava taught: "Many merciful deeds themselves require mercy. They live in a cramped corner of our lives and no one takes pity on them" (Otzar Harayanot Vehapitgamim) [Treasury of concepts and proverbs]). Only when we find the inner power to lovingly take back the one who hurt us can we overcome estrangement. There is an ancient Jewish model for this: "When Moses asked to see God's face [this verse], Moses was really asking, 'show me the attribute You use that helps You rule the world.' God said,' I will cause all my goodness to pass before you.' When God passed before Moses, He said of Himself, 'Adonai, Adonai, El rahum ve-hanun ...., Adonai, Adonai is a God of mercy and graciousness' -- I do not owe any creature anything, but I give to them gratuitously" (Tanhuma Buber Ed. Vaet-hanan). The thireenth-century Roman sage Yehiel b. Yekutiel said: "God loved Israel, so God gave the people mercy as a gift" (Sefer Maalot Hamiddot).

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LEV27 Jewish law instructs us that a successful charity drive is not, as is so often the case today, simply determined by the amount raised or the percentage gained over previous efforts. Not only recipients, but potential donors as well may require our attention. The fund administrators must exercise their Jewish hearts and head to protect manic types from giving away so much that they soon need charity themselves. When we know that someone of means has fallen upon hard times, we must, most gingerly, preserve their dignity. Giving tzedakah may be structured by Jewish law, but we must never forget that it operates as an instrument of Jewish compassion. Anyone who wants to acquire some merit for himself should suppress his urge-to-do-evil and become open-handed, remembering that any act which is done for Heaven's sake should be both good and beautiful. If someone builds a synagogue, let it be more lovely than one's own home. If someone feeds the starving, let him feed him from the best and sweetest that is on his table. If he clothes the naked, let him clothe him with the most exquisite of his clothes. And if he dedicates something to God's service, then let it be among the most beautiful of his possessions, as the text says, "All the choicest is for Adonai" [this verse] Shulchan Arukh, Yoreh Deah, 248.10. Here is one of those laws that is an idea we reach for, not an everyday regulation to be followed in detail. It rightly calls on us to strive for our highest goals. For a code of religious practice should set its sights higher than those social regulations associated with administering a secular group, which must focus on the least common denominator of acceptable custom. And this means a continual reaching, not just for the better, but for the best.

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