FOR RE'EH
TRAINING TO GIVE
Earlier this week, on a visit to New York City, I was traveling on the famed New York Subway. My route was to take me from the borough of Queens, through Manhattan and then into Brooklyn.
Somewhere along the ride, a man boarded the train. As the train pulled out of the station, this person began to sermonize. In a rapid tone, and with flair, he declared a series of tragic events which began for him in Vietnam. This trouble continues to plague him to this day, which is why he was asking for people to help him with some spare change.
Half of the people on the carriage had wires dangling from their ears. Others had their eyes shut, and some were reading something. The rest were staring somewhere. This happens all the time, I thought. Two or three people, including me, pulled out a few coins. As he passed me, the unstable vagabond muttered something about the secret police being present on the carriage, as he scurried off the train, which had jolted to a stop. “Welcome to New York,” I thought.
The next ride between stations was under the East River, between Queens and Manhattan. This trip was going to take longer than a typical one between stations. As the train pulled out, three men dressed as Mexicans placed themselves in the center of the train. A guitar was strapped to one, a banjo to another, and an accordion to the third. Two of them were wearing Mexican sombreros; the third was wearing a baseball cap. They began to play a lively and catchy folk song in Spanish, belting it out with harmony and feeling. My Spanish is poor, so I did not fully understand the words of this ballad.
The reaction to this was drastic. Those with wires, continued their thing. Those without turned away, some nodding their heads in disgust. One fellow, with a pure white suit and blue shoes placed big sunglasses over his eyes, closing the music players out. One girl, standing by the doors at the center of the carriage, turned completely around, looking out of the windows. She preferred to stare at the blackness of the tunnels than at the musicians.
The fellow with the baseball cap then proceeded to present his open cap to the passengers. One or two people dropped in some change, as the train came to its jerking halt.
These musicians did their asking without saying a word. They played a song and presented a container for those willing to share a few cents. Even the challenged guy who had made a pattered blathering speech, was only asking for a few a few pennies from people who were otherwise not engaged in any meaningful, “Do not disturb” type of work. Yet, they were all treated like enemies or aliens.
Not being in New York every single day, I may have a different perspective regarding people who are looking for a quick buck. Some on the train could have been intimidated; others may have been in a bad mood. Perhaps some may have had a previous bad experience. Someone mentioned that these people have plenty of money, and they are predators to build on their wealth at others people’s expense.
While all the above may be true, the way I see a section of this week’s Torah portion, “Re’eh,” giving these people a few pennies is one of the greatest acts a person can do. In this portion, disproportionate to any other portion, the Torah implores people to give charity to the needy. The Torah mandates all people to tithe their produce, to offer loans, and to “repeatedly open your hand to (the poor person) and give.” (D’varim (Deuteronomy) 15:8.) “There will never cease to be destitute people within the land, and therefore I am commanding you, as follows: you should repeatedly open your hand to your poor brother and to the destitute (residing) in your land.” (15:11.)
How far must one go? Some people are born with a tendency to give. They enjoy the thrill of helping people, or of having their name in lights, or any other benefit or reason giving and donating. Giving to others comes natural to them. Others are born with a tendency to be stingy, even with themselves. It hurts them to depart with resources for which they worked so hard. Are those who naturally enjoy giving to charity fulfilling the charity obligation, or do they need to go further? And what about those who find this challenging?
The following story in the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 18,a) sheds light. Rabbi Chanina Ben Tradyon was one of the greatest Sages of the Jewish people. He was murdered by the Romans for teaching the Torah. He visited his friend, Rabbi Yosi Ben Kisma, who was on his deathbed. In their discussion, Rabbi Chanina asked of the great Rabbi Yosi whether he deserved to be rewarded in the World to Come. Rabbi Yosi asked his friend whether he had done anything special in his life. He responded: “I once had two purses of money. One contained funds for the poor, the other contained personal funds designated to be used for my Purim feast. By mistake, I distributed the contents of my own funds to the poor. Yet, I did not take the other purse for myself (since it was originally designated for charity funds).” Rabbi Yosi, who was impressed, stated: “If so, I hope the lot I receive will be (as high) as yours!”
Both of these Sages were from the greatest of men. Rabbi Chanina studied and taught Torah all day. His reward was secure. Rabbi Yosi’s lot would have been great even without Rabbi Chaninah. Rabbi Chaninah’s studying, however, was primarily due to his studious and non-distractible nature. When Rabbi Yosi heard that Rabbi Chaninah not merely distributed charity funds, but had gone above and beyond his nature, he knew that this person’s deeds were deserving of great recognition and reward.
A person, who goes above and beyond his or her nature, when confronted with an opportunity to give charity, even the greatest Sages wish to be part of that reward.
When the needy are asking for a few shekels on the New York subway, and they are annoying – because of how they look, what they say (or sing), or they are simply reminding people of their own consciousness – this is the best opportunity to give. The dividends of such giving return the greatest rewards
SUMMARY: If someone puts out their hand for some change, and giving them would hurt – smile and give. There is plenty to smile about that hurt…