This is the sermon I'm giving tonight at Temple Beit HaYam.
Which feels better, to receive or to give?
The question may seem like a set-up for some moralizing sermon about how “‘Tis better to give than to receive,” but I actually intend the question just as I stated it. Which feels better? Not, “Which is the right thing to do,” but literally, which is more satisfying?
Think about the best gift you ever got—the one you had wait a long time to get. The one that you had really craved, and then you got it. What was it for you?
When I was a kid, I really wanted a G.I. Joe. My parents were not thrilled with the idea of buying one at the height of the Vietnam War. At seven years old, I didn’t know anything about Kent State or My Lai—I just thought G.I. Joe was cool—but my parents did not like the idea of buying me a toy that was about war. There was enough war on television. But they eventually got me the G.I. Joe and I played with it … for a few months.
When I got older, my tastes changed. After the 2004 World Series, I pestered my wife for a while that I really wanted to have the 12-DVD set of the Red Sox’ victories over the New York Yankees and the St. Louis Cardinals. I watched the entire eight games and the special features over the winter as I waited for the next opening day. Since then, the DVDs have been sitting on a shelf.
This is a common experience that you probably can relate to. Wanting something makes us ache. But having the thing we wanted usually does not feel as good as we thought it would. Sometimes, it actually makes us feel badly when we realize how foolish our desire had been.
It was not until I became a parent that I began to discover the real joy that goes with gifts. The thrill of watching my child open a long-awaited present on Chanukah or a birthday is far better than the feeling of getting any present I have ever received. I will never forget watching my little girl dancing all over the house with the brand new American Girl doll she had been talking about for weeks. For a parent, it’s a great feeling. It’s almost intoxicating.
Is it really better to give than it is to receive? For myself, I can honestly say “Yes.” It is not just morally better. It really does feel better. The experience is deeper, longer, and much more satisfying. Receiving just reminds us how banal most of our desires really are. Giving lifts us up and opens our hearts. It makes us feel connected to others and connected to the best that is within us.
This week’s Torah portion, Re’eh, includes a verse that says, “You shall set aside a tenth of all your agricultural production, the yield of your fields, every year.” The verse is interpreted by the rabbis of the Talmud as establishing the custom of tithing. A farmer is expected to put aside ten percent of his or her crop as a donation that is used, in part, to feed the poor.
The phrase that is translated as “You shall set aside a tenth” is just two words in Hebrew: “Aseir t’aseir.” Both words comes from the same root as the word for the number ten in Hebrew, “eser.” An over-literal translation of “Aseir t’aseir,” might be “tithe you will tithe.” The repetition of the verb in biblical Hebrew intensifies the meaning. Sometimes, you will see it translated as “You shall surely tithe.”
I mention this detail of Hebrew grammar because the ancient rabbis have a bit of fun with it in the Talmud. In the Talmud’s section on Shabbat, Rabbi Judah Ha-Nasi asks Rabbi Ishmael, “What makes a person worthy of being wealthy?” Rabbi Ishmael answers by citing the verse in this week’s portion. He says that a person is made worthy of wealth through the giving of tithes. He says, “As it is written, ‘Aseir t’aseir,’ that is, they give tithes and thereby they become wealthy” (B. Shabbat 119a).
Rabbi Ishmael interprets the double verb that means “You shall surely tithe” as two separate verbs that tell a story of cause and effect. When a person gives tithes (“Aseir”), that person becomes wealthy (“Titasheir”).
On what level does Rabbi Ishmael’s claim make sense? Does the giving of money to support the poor really lead to wealth? Is there a practical truth to this teaching, or is it just a little play on words to encourage people to do the right thing?
Maybe it’s a little of both. I want, at least, to offer the argument that Rabbi Ishmael is saying something that is true, if not for one individual, then for society as a whole.
From a purely economic point of view, we do become wealthier when we share our wealth with the poor. People living in poverty have a tough time lifting themselves up. When life is a constant struggle just to feed a family, it is difficult to make the investments necessary to rise out of poverty. People who cannot be sure about their next meal usually do not put aside money to send their children to a better school or to start up a small business. They need help.
When society combines to give a poor person a chance to invest in his or her future, free-market capitalist economic theory says that that person will tend to act in his or her own best interest and do things to rise out of poverty. As a result, everyone benefits. With less poverty dragging the economy, and with more people able to contribute, the wealth of society as a whole increases.
This is not a “Red State” argument or a “Blue State” argument. It is a principle of rabbinic Judaism that precedes our modern economic system and our contemporary political battles. The rabbis do not care whether the aid to the poor comes from a welfare state program or from voluntary gifts by individuals. It does not matter. The simple truth is just this: Supporting the poor is not just a moral imperative, it is something we do to help ourselves. Aseir t’aseir, when we give, we become wealthy.
This is a case in which the thing that makes ethical sense also makes practical sense—and it also makes spiritual sense. Rabbi Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl was a major figure of the early chasidic movement in the Ukraine during the late eighteenth century. He discussed the principle of aseir t’aseir, of becoming wealthy through giving, and applied it to a verse from the book of Ecclesiastes that says, “There are none who die with even half of their desires fulfilled” (Ecclesiastes 1:32; Me’or Eynaim on Re’eh).
Rabbi Menachem states that the verse should not be interpreted to mean that we all die unsatisfied and unhappy. We know that there are people who live with a sense of satisfaction even when they have little. And that, really, is the trick. The key to satisfaction is not to have everything you want; it is to be satisfied with what you have.
Rabbi Menachem says that the verse from Ecclesiastes that says, “There are none who die with even half their desires fulfilled,” is not talking about literal death. He says that it is talking about the spiritual death of those who live as slaves to their own cravings and desires. He interprets the verse to mean, “no one who is spiritually dead will ever feel that they have gained even half of their desires.” If a person succumbs to his or her every desire, that person becomes trapped in a prison of misery. Such a person will never feel satisfied.
The message that Rabbi Menachem wants us to hear is clear. If we want to live meaningful lives, and avoid the spiritual death of chasing every desire, we must learn the skill of feeling satisfied. When we are content with what we have, then we become truly wealthy.
To reach this awareness, he says, there is nothing better that we can do for ourselves than to give. When we remind ourselves how much better it feels to give, we discover our deepest satisfaction and fulfillment. The reward of the mitzvah of giving is the experience of satisfaction and the experience of truly being wealthy.
Generous giving is a path toward living a fulfilling life. It rewards us three-fold. It makes us aware of having fulfilled our ethical obligation to help others. It benefits everyone by making our society more productive. It opens our hearts and teaches us the fulfillment of feeling satisfied with what we have.
So, think about the best gift you ever got. If it was a thing, did the good feeling of having it compare to the feeling of wanting it? Probably not. But if the best gift you ever got was the gift of sharing what you have with others, then you have experienced the deep satisfaction of knowing that whatever you have, it is enough. Shabbat shalom.
Which feels better, to receive or to give?
The question may seem like a set-up for some moralizing sermon about how “‘Tis better to give than to receive,” but I actually intend the question just as I stated it. Which feels better? Not, “Which is the right thing to do,” but literally, which is more satisfying?
Think about the best gift you ever got—the one you had wait a long time to get. The one that you had really craved, and then you got it. What was it for you?
When I was a kid, I really wanted a G.I. Joe. My parents were not thrilled with the idea of buying one at the height of the Vietnam War. At seven years old, I didn’t know anything about Kent State or My Lai—I just thought G.I. Joe was cool—but my parents did not like the idea of buying me a toy that was about war. There was enough war on television. But they eventually got me the G.I. Joe and I played with it … for a few months.
When I got older, my tastes changed. After the 2004 World Series, I pestered my wife for a while that I really wanted to have the 12-DVD set of the Red Sox’ victories over the New York Yankees and the St. Louis Cardinals. I watched the entire eight games and the special features over the winter as I waited for the next opening day. Since then, the DVDs have been sitting on a shelf.
This is a common experience that you probably can relate to. Wanting something makes us ache. But having the thing we wanted usually does not feel as good as we thought it would. Sometimes, it actually makes us feel badly when we realize how foolish our desire had been.
It was not until I became a parent that I began to discover the real joy that goes with gifts. The thrill of watching my child open a long-awaited present on Chanukah or a birthday is far better than the feeling of getting any present I have ever received. I will never forget watching my little girl dancing all over the house with the brand new American Girl doll she had been talking about for weeks. For a parent, it’s a great feeling. It’s almost intoxicating.
Is it really better to give than it is to receive? For myself, I can honestly say “Yes.” It is not just morally better. It really does feel better. The experience is deeper, longer, and much more satisfying. Receiving just reminds us how banal most of our desires really are. Giving lifts us up and opens our hearts. It makes us feel connected to others and connected to the best that is within us.
This week’s Torah portion, Re’eh, includes a verse that says, “You shall set aside a tenth of all your agricultural production, the yield of your fields, every year.” The verse is interpreted by the rabbis of the Talmud as establishing the custom of tithing. A farmer is expected to put aside ten percent of his or her crop as a donation that is used, in part, to feed the poor.
The phrase that is translated as “You shall set aside a tenth” is just two words in Hebrew: “Aseir t’aseir.” Both words comes from the same root as the word for the number ten in Hebrew, “eser.” An over-literal translation of “Aseir t’aseir,” might be “tithe you will tithe.” The repetition of the verb in biblical Hebrew intensifies the meaning. Sometimes, you will see it translated as “You shall surely tithe.”
I mention this detail of Hebrew grammar because the ancient rabbis have a bit of fun with it in the Talmud. In the Talmud’s section on Shabbat, Rabbi Judah Ha-Nasi asks Rabbi Ishmael, “What makes a person worthy of being wealthy?” Rabbi Ishmael answers by citing the verse in this week’s portion. He says that a person is made worthy of wealth through the giving of tithes. He says, “As it is written, ‘Aseir t’aseir,’ that is, they give tithes and thereby they become wealthy” (B. Shabbat 119a).
Rabbi Ishmael interprets the double verb that means “You shall surely tithe” as two separate verbs that tell a story of cause and effect. When a person gives tithes (“Aseir”), that person becomes wealthy (“Titasheir”).
On what level does Rabbi Ishmael’s claim make sense? Does the giving of money to support the poor really lead to wealth? Is there a practical truth to this teaching, or is it just a little play on words to encourage people to do the right thing?
Maybe it’s a little of both. I want, at least, to offer the argument that Rabbi Ishmael is saying something that is true, if not for one individual, then for society as a whole.
From a purely economic point of view, we do become wealthier when we share our wealth with the poor. People living in poverty have a tough time lifting themselves up. When life is a constant struggle just to feed a family, it is difficult to make the investments necessary to rise out of poverty. People who cannot be sure about their next meal usually do not put aside money to send their children to a better school or to start up a small business. They need help.
When society combines to give a poor person a chance to invest in his or her future, free-market capitalist economic theory says that that person will tend to act in his or her own best interest and do things to rise out of poverty. As a result, everyone benefits. With less poverty dragging the economy, and with more people able to contribute, the wealth of society as a whole increases.
This is not a “Red State” argument or a “Blue State” argument. It is a principle of rabbinic Judaism that precedes our modern economic system and our contemporary political battles. The rabbis do not care whether the aid to the poor comes from a welfare state program or from voluntary gifts by individuals. It does not matter. The simple truth is just this: Supporting the poor is not just a moral imperative, it is something we do to help ourselves. Aseir t’aseir, when we give, we become wealthy.
This is a case in which the thing that makes ethical sense also makes practical sense—and it also makes spiritual sense. Rabbi Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl was a major figure of the early chasidic movement in the Ukraine during the late eighteenth century. He discussed the principle of aseir t’aseir, of becoming wealthy through giving, and applied it to a verse from the book of Ecclesiastes that says, “There are none who die with even half of their desires fulfilled” (Ecclesiastes 1:32; Me’or Eynaim on Re’eh).
Rabbi Menachem states that the verse should not be interpreted to mean that we all die unsatisfied and unhappy. We know that there are people who live with a sense of satisfaction even when they have little. And that, really, is the trick. The key to satisfaction is not to have everything you want; it is to be satisfied with what you have.
Rabbi Menachem says that the verse from Ecclesiastes that says, “There are none who die with even half their desires fulfilled,” is not talking about literal death. He says that it is talking about the spiritual death of those who live as slaves to their own cravings and desires. He interprets the verse to mean, “no one who is spiritually dead will ever feel that they have gained even half of their desires.” If a person succumbs to his or her every desire, that person becomes trapped in a prison of misery. Such a person will never feel satisfied.
The message that Rabbi Menachem wants us to hear is clear. If we want to live meaningful lives, and avoid the spiritual death of chasing every desire, we must learn the skill of feeling satisfied. When we are content with what we have, then we become truly wealthy.
To reach this awareness, he says, there is nothing better that we can do for ourselves than to give. When we remind ourselves how much better it feels to give, we discover our deepest satisfaction and fulfillment. The reward of the mitzvah of giving is the experience of satisfaction and the experience of truly being wealthy.
Generous giving is a path toward living a fulfilling life. It rewards us three-fold. It makes us aware of having fulfilled our ethical obligation to help others. It benefits everyone by making our society more productive. It opens our hearts and teaches us the fulfillment of feeling satisfied with what we have.
So, think about the best gift you ever got. If it was a thing, did the good feeling of having it compare to the feeling of wanting it? Probably not. But if the best gift you ever got was the gift of sharing what you have with others, then you have experienced the deep satisfaction of knowing that whatever you have, it is enough. Shabbat shalom.
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