If your brother becomes poor and loses the ability to support himself, then you must help him, whether he is a proselyte, or a foreigner, so that he may live amongst you . . . (Vayikra 21:1)

P overty is everywhere. I remember the first time I saw someone begging for money in the street and how taken aback I was. I was traveling through Europe at the time, and I was amazed how easily the beggars seemed to fit into the landscape. This was especially so since where I grew up in Toronto, in the suburbs, there were no beggars. 

And, when I ventured downtown in Toronto, it was always to areas where the poor did not dare go and ask for money. Unlike Europe, it was just too much of an affront to beg for money for necessities from people who shopped in fancy malls for extras.

This was all before I became an Orthodox Jew. Until that wondrous time, I was totally unaware of the laws concerning tzedakah, or charity, as it was known in my early days. I was not yet of the opinion that everything I had been blessed with really belonged to God, and that I had a moral obligation to share my bounty with the less fortunate. If and when I did, it was because some feeling of guilt pushed me to part with my precious money.

Then, I became religious (over the course of a year), and I learned differently. I learned how easy it is to be on the other side of the stick, so-to-speak, and how we can’t take credit for our successes, only be grateful for them. Most importantly, I learned the difference between charity and tzedakah.

Charity, simply put, is giving to others simply because they asked. A person with a charitable nature is one who gives freely of his own money or belongings to others, regardless of how much the other person deserves what he is getting. And, usually, there is no ulterior motive other than to help out another person who is in need. If someone gives for some kind of personal gain, it is hard to call such a person charitable.

Tzedakah is all of that, with one exception. As the word implies, with tzedakah, the giving has little to do with what the person feels about being charitable and everything to do with being righteous. You give to others in need because it is the moral thing to do, because it is what God wants you to do, as expressed in the halachah.

This results in a difference from charity that is not immediately evident, but implied. If helping a person out in need is the moral thing to do, then helping the person out in need is not appropriate if it is not the moral thing to do, even though it hurts you to close your hand. Everything about the person can scream out, “Give to me something!” However, if giving to them will have the end result of taking something positive away from them, then giving to them is not only not a mitzvah, it is even the wrong thing to do. 

For example, human beings were created in the image of God, and are only fulfilled when they live up to that image. Dignity is crucial, as is a certain amount of personal independence, and nothing provides both better than by being a responsible person. Everyone needs others and has moments of dependency, but anyone who chooses that path as a way of life denies their Godly aspect. 

This is why the greatest act of charity is not simply giving money to a stranger. It is to help someone get on their feet, to do whatever you can, in whatever small or large way, to point them in a direction of self-sufficiency. You’re not simply giving them a job, but self-dignity, the most important human asset.

Hence, the Torah refers to such giving as gemillas-chassadim, which usually translates as acts of loving kindness. However, the first word comes from a word that is derived from the same word that either refers to a camel (gamal), or the weaning of a child from its mother’s milk. The former can travel for days in the desert without the need to drink, and the latter is being put on a path to independence. That is the ideal chesed: independence.  

As a result, though charity usually means to give something, tzedakah says that sometimes giving is really taking. If a person is pursuing a life of charity because he refuses to take responsibility for his life, then the Godly thing to do would be to not give him a hand-out, in order to force to take responsibility for his life.

Of course, this is hard to know about strangers, especially when they show up at your door for the first time. There is no question that today there are a lot of frauds, making it very difficult for real poor people, but it so hard to tell those who truly need tzedakah from those who do not; the latter really act the part, and givers are more concerned about sending the person on his or her way than prolonging the episode with a lengthy investigation. 

As a result, many cities today have implemented a policy that requires anyone collecting money to first meet with a local representative, who does a relatively thorough background check on the collector. Community members are then advised that they should not give to anyone unless the person shows up bearing the proper paper, thus discouraging people from acting fraudulently. It’s not 100 percent foolproof, but it certainly improves the situation.

However, the Talmud provides an interesting insight into the entire giver-receiver relationship that reveals that it is really a two-way street when it comes to giving tzedakah, as it says:

 

Rebi Yitzchak further said: “What is the meaning of the verse, ‘He that follows after righteousness and mercy finds life, righteousness and honor?’ (Mishlei 21:21)? Because a man has followed after righteousness, shall he find righteousness? The purpose of the verse, however, is to teach us that if a man is anxious to give charity, The Holy One, Blessed is He, gives him money with which to give it.” Rav Nachman ben Yitzchak says: “The Holy One, Blessed is He, sends him people who are fitting recipients of charity, so that he may be rewarded for assisting them.” Who does this exclude? Such as those mentioned in the exposition of Rabbah, when he said: “What is the meaning of the verse, ‘Let them be made to stumble before You; in the time of Your anger, deal with them?’ (Yirmiyahu 18:23)? Yirmiyahu said to The Holy One, Blessed is He: ‘Master of the Universe, even when they conquer their evil inclination and seek to give charity before You, cause them to stumble through men who are not fitting recipients, so that they should receive no reward for assisting them.’ ” (Bava Basra 9b)

 

Though many know that it is a mitzvah to give tzedakah, they tend to focus more on the good they are doing others by giving, than the good being done for them through the receiving. Indeed, from Heaven’s point of view, the situation may the reverse of what we see, making the giver the receiver, and the receiver, the giver, spiritually-speaking.

Hence, though a collector may physically show up with the necessary paperwork in order to authenticate his right to collect, we have to show up with the proper Heavenly paperwork, so-to-speak, in order to authenticate our right to give. And THAT has less to do with how much money one has to give away than it does with how righteous a person is on a daily basis. 

The Vilna Gaon mentions a similar point with respect to Eretz Yisroel. I have heard it said that, Ben Gurion, at the founding of the State, had hoped that the new Jewish homeland would transform a nation ofshnorrers, the not-so-complimentary Yiddish word for those who constantly seek money from others, into a nation of financially-independent Jews. 

Well, the joke was certainly on Ben Gurion, because what ensued in the end was a nation that never stopped turning to others for handouts, and which has built upon the generosity of others. The reason: Ben Gurion’s desire was based upon emotion, whereas the need for tzedakah of the Jewish homeland was a historical necessity, as it says:

 

It is a decree and an act of mercy that the settle-ment of Eretz Yisroel will be built through tzedakah. For, The Holy One, Blessed is He, wanted to give all Jews, near and far, the merit of having a portion in the building of the inheritance of God, as it says, “They gathered money from all of the Jewish people to fortify the House of God” (Divrei HaYomim 2:24:5). (Kol HaTor, Ch. 1:19)

 

Quick question: How many Diaspora Jews have looked at the opportunity to invest money into the fledgling Jewish State over the years as a blessing, THEIR blessing? On the other hand, how many have felt that it was merely their obligation, or were cajoled into giving by their community leaders, wondering, “When will the place finally stand on its own financial feet?”

The answer to the question has less to do with the financial success of the Jewish State than it does with the worthiness of Diaspora Jewry to participate in the building of Tzion. Eretz Yisroel will no longer need foreign money as soon as the door closes on Diaspora Jewry’s merit to financially participate in the building of the Final Redemption, either because it has already happened, or because they simply lost the merit to be involved.

This historical moment in time may already be at hand. Years ago, when the US dollar plummeted, everyone waited for the Israeli Shekel to do the same, since it had always taken its cue from the US currency. However, to the surprise of just about everyone, it didn’t, and while the US dollar slipped lower, the Israeli Shekel remained strong.

And, when the Housing Market in the US fell out and sent the American economy spiraling downward, the Israeli economy held its own. For the first time, many Americans considering making aliyah had to put their dreams on hold because their American houses had become greatly undervalued while Israeli real estate soared. While, in the rest of the Western world the building industry slowed down, the big constructions cranes adorned the skyline of many cities and communities in Eretz Yisroel.

The timing is not uncanny. We are well into the tenth hour of the six millennium, well into the period called Kibbutz Golios—the ingathering of the exiles—and Techiyas HaMeisim, the resurrection of the dead, is supposed to start somewhere between 14 and 18 years, according to the Leshem and according to the Zohar. This is Zman Geulah—the time of the Final Redemption. The time of building is coming to a fast end; the time of moving in, Phase 1, may also be coming to a rather abrupt end as well.

When you think about it, it is rather obvious. Who really needs whom more? There is no question than the poor person needs money more than the giver. However, that is but a worldly matter, for what counts the most is not how much money one has, or how much financial freedom one enjoys, but how much merit we will accumulated by the time we leave this world and make our way to the World-to-Come. 

That being the case, we need to do as many mitzvos in our lifetime as we possibly can. Becoming financially rich is just a means to an end, but become spiritually rich is the end unto itself. If so, then any recipient of good from us is not really taking from us, but giving to us. They don’t owe us, but we owe them.

As a writer, I usually depend upon contributions from others to help my books see the light of day. Thank God, I have been blessed over the years to connect up with generous people, who have made dedications in my books, often on several occasions.

More importantly, though, is the way they have contributed. As much as I believe in what I do, and I really do, and the importance of getting this material out there, still, asking for money from others to publish my work is still exactly that: asking for someone else’s hard-earned money. I do not look at it as if I am the one doing them the favor.

But they have. Occasionally, some of the notes I have received from contributors over the years have just about brought tears to my eyes. The respect that I have been shown, and the sense of gratitude that they have displayed towards me for allowing them to make a dedication (and even the sincere apologies they give when, for some technical reason, a transaction does not work the first time), has overwhelmed me, since I always feel the same way towards them. 

This has taught me a lesson that I have tried to apply to my own giving as well. It is very common in the religious community, especially here in Israel, to have multiple causes come to your door in succession on a single night. It is also very possible that some of them are fraudulent, while others may look or act unworthy to receive a handout. Hence, it is a very easy to feel like the fortunate giver, and to look at the person on the other side of threshold as the unfortunate beggar.

To fight this yetzer hara, I decided years ago that, no matter what, I would treat each person with dignity, which, for me, meant offering them something to drink, which is often accepted. It had forced me to pause and think about the plight of the other person, because even if he really shouldn’t be out there receiving handouts, he still had to go from door-to-door, often in very warm or very cold weather.

On one occasion, after offering someone a drink, he asked me if we happened to have any crackers around, so I gave him a whole pack. He devoured them, and explained to me that he hadn’t eaten the entire day, so I got him some fruit as well. 

After he ate and drank, and I gave him what is good contribution by door-to-door standards, but a small fraction of what he really needed, he got up and thanked me, clearly from the bottom of his heart. I could tell that his gratitude had less to do with the money, and more to do with how he had been treated like a brother, and not like the poor, second-class citizen that he wasn’t. It was very gratifying for me.

However, the true gratification of such an approach to giving tzedakah did not really come until, one day, I watch my own son tend to someone who had come to the door. Tired, I just hadn’t felt like answering the door that night, so I sent my son in my place. Without him knowing, I watched with admiration when, on his own, he offered the person at the door a drink, and delivered it to him with a sense of respect, something I could hear the person appreciated. 

I decided right then and there that if anything good I ever did made its way to my own children, it should be that, the middah of treating another in need with such respect. With such an attitude in life, obligations become opportunities, and one is destined to be a Ben Olam HaBah—a resident of the World-to-Come.

However, if you will not listen to Me, and do all of these commandments; if you will deride My laws, and detest My judgments and not do all My commandments, but void My covenant, then I will do the following to you . . . (Vayikra 26:14-15)

Text to come shortly . . .