Tzedaka

By Reb Bahir Davis When I was 17 years old, I spent seven months in Israel. The year was 1966. I was nervous being so far from home but excited to be in my spiritual homeland. I thought that I was open to the new experiences that flooded my daily life. One situation stands out to share at this moment. It had to do with a bus, a bus driver, frighteningly windy roads, and a beggar. I was sitting on the bus behind the bus driver holding my breath as he careened around tight corners on the way down from Har Carmel in the coastal mount city of Haifa. We came to a sudden stop, the door opened, and onto the bus stepped a beggar, an older man in torn and filthy clothes. He rudely ignored the bus driver and the fee box by his side. He started walking down the aisle shoving his dirty hand in the faces of the passengers. Since I was in the first seat I was accosted first. I tried not to notice him but he would have none of it. He shoved his hand in my face and spoke in a strong voice, one not softened by the embarrassment of his situation. " Tzedaka !" he demanded. I was so intimidated that I gave him a few bills and looked down. The beggar was demanding and I was embarrassed. The situation seemed to be all out of whack. As the beggar continued weaving down the aisle, the bus started again and reached its frightening speed around the many corners on the way down the mountain. In my discomfort I remarked aloud: "Well, that was rude!" The bus driver turned around in his seat, not slowing for an instant, and responded to me in English. "Do you not understand?" he queried with a strong accent. "That man was doing you a kindness!" "How," I asked, "was he doing me a favor by begging for money?" "Didn't you hear what he said? He called out Tzedaka ; he was offering you the opportunity to fulfill the Mitzvah, the sacred commandment to help others! How often does an opportunity come along to make such a sacred connection, a Mitzvah by helping others?" Forty-three years later, I remember that incident. I remember the harrowing ride and the hallowed lesson. In Judaism, the term that we most associate with the word "charity" is Tzedaka. But Tzedaka does not mean charity; it means righteousness, it means doing the right thing. In Judaism, to help others is simply the right thing to do. Even beggars, those who bring us blessing by allowing us to fulfill the Mitzvah of giving, are required to give to those who have less. In Judaism, helping others is not above and beyond, it is what is expected. That is why we call it a Mitzvah, which means (on one level) a commandment. In Torah there are countless writings on how we must treat each other with compassion. The corners of our field do not belong to us. We must plant them but we may not harvest them, they are for those in need. Any time that we drop part of our harvest, we are forbidden to pick it up; it is to be left for those in need. When any person comes to us for a loan we must do whatever we can to provide. If the person leaves something as collateral we must bring it back to hir [I use "hir" rather than him or her] before nightfall. Then the next day we wait outside the person's door in humility as we wait to take possession of the collateral for the day. Every seven years all debts are forgiven (Dt. 15). On all Jewish holidays we give to the poor. On Purim especially, we send gift baskets to the poor. On Pesah we say: "Let all who are hungry come and eat," inviting everyone to share in the bounty of the day. On the High Holy Days we say that there are three things that can turn our ‘Karma' around: Prayer, Study, and Tzedaka , the obligation to give to those in need. The Talmud instructs us to give at a minimum of ten percent of our annual net income to Tzedaka (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, "Laws Concerning Gifts for the Poor," 7:5). And since I have cited Maimonides, the RaMBaM, he offers us the levels of Tzedaka or a ladder to heaven, if you will. The lowest, mean-spirited rung on the ladder is: When the giving is given grudgingly. The next rung is for a person to give less than s/he should, but to do so cheerfully. As we climb higher we find the one who gives directly to the poor upon being asked. But higher than that is giving directly to the poor without waiting to be asked. Once we have reached that rung we can still climb higher, closer to heaven, by making sure that though the recipient is aware of the donor's identity, the donor does not know the identity of the recipient. One might argue that this level and the one before are almost the same, but take a moment to think of the feelings of the beggar when the donor is aware of the recipient's identity, but the recipient is unaware of the source. And of course higher than that is total anonymity, when the donor and recipient are unknown to each other. And the highest form of Tzedaka , the best form of giving, is not having to give, living in a world where it is no longer necessary. The highest form of Tzedaka is to help sustain individuals before they become impoverished by offering a substantial gift in a dignified manner, or by extending a suitable loan, or by helping them find employment, or by establishing them in business so as to make it unnecessary for them to become dependent on others. The purpose of all of these discussions, suggestions, guidelines, and laws, the highest goal of Tzedaka is simply put in Parashat Re'eh where it says: "There shall be no needy among you... if only you heed the HaShem, your God and take care to keep these instructions that I enjoin upon you this day." (Dvarim 5:4-5) And yet there are times when someone goes above and beyond even the ladder of Maimonides. There are people who ascend into heaven and even higher. There is a story of a rabbi who disappeared every year during the time of Sli h ot, the time when Jews are digging into their souls to prepare the way for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. And while everyone was in the synagogue praying, fasting, turning their hearts to G, their rabbi was nowhere to be found. His devout followers would say that at these times their rabbi had climbed to heaven to speak with G. Now it happens that a mitnaged, a person who is always disagreeing with what is obvious, came to town. When he heard that the rabbi was missing the so-very-important prayers of Sli h ot and further heard that his followers thought that he had ascended to heaven he was doubtful. He decided that he would have to see it to believe it. He hid under the rabbi's bed (of all the H utzpah ) and when the rabbi woke up the next morning the mitnaged was awake waiting. He saw the old rabbi do his morning prayers after washing but instead of putting on his traditional Jewish garb he put on the clothes of a woodchopper. The mitnaged was shocked to watch the rabbi carrying his ax and some rope on this holy day. He hid and watched the rabbi chop wood into usable sizes and carry it into the town. He knocked on doors and called out: "Wood for sale!" The mitnaged was gleefully shocked at the rabbi's behavior but he kept following. The rabbi would go in to house after house, sometimes coming out with a few coins payment but mostly without anything to show for his trouble. Sometimes the mitnaged saw the rabbi working, building fires for people even when they could not pay. He overheard the rabbi occasionally sharing little tiny bits of Torah learning (called Shtickele Torah). Finally the rabbi came to a very poor house, the poorest in the town. He banged on the door and an old lady screeched: "Go away! I can't afford your wood!" But the rabbi entered all the same. The mitnaged stood outside and peered into the window. The rabbi busied himself over the protests of a very elderly and sick woman. He built a fire and stacked enough wood for a week. Then he reached into his bag and pulled out a chicken that he had brought from his own meager home. He began to cook for the old lady all the while chatting, telling her stories from Torah, whistling while he worked. Then, he poured the soup into a bowl and fed the old woman. Finally, as she was fed and the small hovel was warm, she looked up at him and said: "I have nothing with which to pay you!" The rabbi laughed. "My dear excellent woman," he beamed, "I trust that in your own way you will repay me for the little that I have done. I have faith in you! Can you not have a little faith in the Holy One of Being, that G will support you in your time of trouble? Maybe G will not change what is in your life, but don't you think that even now G has given you the wisdom and compassion to face the hardships that come upon us in this world?" The woman wept and thanked the rabbi. He brushed away her tears and gave her a blessing and was gone. The mitnaged is now a member of the rabbi's synagogue. He attends services and he donates to every cause that he can. And when other congregants comment during Sli h ot that their rabbi has ascended to heaven, if you listen carefully you will hear the mitnaged say: "If not higher!" I came upon these reflections after I read a small newspaper article about a Mr. Robert I. Lappin , a man robbed by the evil Bernie Madoff (Y'S) 1 (pronounced Made Off). Though he had lost 90% of his net worth, this man took his own money to replace the retirement savings of employees who lost their money to the swindler Bernie Madoff (Y'S). When asked about it, he simply said: "I wanted to do the right thing." If I were to translate that humble and powerful sentence into Hebrew I would use the word Tzedaka , which means, "the right thing to do!" It also means "being righteous." This year that rabbi, who ascends to heaven if not higher, has company, a businessman from North Shore by the name of Robert I. Lappin. Rabbi Bahir Davis studied at various yeshivas in the United States and Israel and holds two Smichot (ordination certificates), one signed by rabbis from many branches of Judaism, including the late Rabbi Alexander Schindler (zt'l), past President of the Union of Reform Judaism, and another from the founder of the Jewish Renewal movement, Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi. Reb Bahir is a Maggid (storyteller) in the best tradition of Jewish storytelling and is known for his vibrant humor and imagery. Reb Bahir refuses to be connected with any one movement, preferring to serve the entire spectrum of the Jewish community. He is the spiritual leader of Rocky Mountain Hai , based in Lafayette, Colorado. 1 Y'S represents yemach shemo - may his name be forgotten or erased