Ki Teitzei: A Welcoming Way To Help Yourself
Why do we offer help? If and when we step outside of our own little universes, and we extend a hand to make someone else's life a little easier; why do we do it? Is it for reward or praise? So that someone else will see how righteous, kind, and selfless we are? In the field of Anthropology, there is a constant debate about the subject of altruism; can you ever help another purely for selfless reasons, or is there always some underlying personal benefit that you hope or expect to get out of it? This subject is touched upon in our Torah portion this week, but perhaps more importantly, it is something we all should consider in this month of Elul; the month preceding the High Holiday season.
Our parashah, Ki Teitzei, continues the theme from last week, listing various laws that govern society. One, small section talks about harvesting, and how you should leave some of your yield for the orphan, widow, and poor. Somewhat surprisingly, we are given *two* distinct justifications for why we should do this: Deuteronomy, chapter 24, verse 19 tells us the reason for our kindness is 'in order that the Lord, your God, may bless you in all your undertakings.' Three verses later, after repeating the obligation to leave some for the underprivileged, we are adjured to 'always remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt; therefore do I enjoin you to observe this commandment.' So why are we supposed to help the people around us, so that God will reward us, or as a sign of our gratitude for God's saving us from slavery?
You think I'm going to say that the answer is 'both,' don't you? Well, sort of. It's actually MORE than both. I don't believe that Deuteronomy 24:19 is about God simply repaying us for good behavior. God's blessing is not an objective reality, but rather it's a perception, an experience. You will *feel* blessed, and your life will be filled with more meaning, when you treat other people this way. Similarly, we are meant to remember the slavery in Egypt, not because of some debt we owe God, but because it will soften our hearts. When we remember the pain and suffering we experienced as the lowest caste members in society, our eyes and souls will open up to the pain of The Other in our society, and (hopefully) we *will* help them.
This is also the lesson of Elul, leading into the High Holidays. I want to share with you a quote from Craig Taubman, a Jewish community leader and singer, who among other things composed the new Lecha Dodi tune that I taught on Friday nights (it’s the jazzy one with all the La-la-la-la-la’s…). Taubman wrote about The Art of Welcoming as a personal practice for us to work on in ourselves during the month of Elul: “Welcoming is more than just the way we greet people, it is a way of life. Welcoming is the attitude with which we respond to people, ideas, and the world around us. It’s not just about opening our doors but also opening our hearts and our minds to that which is new and sometimes even frightening. Only when we overcome our fears and choose to trust can we be welcoming in the truest sense of the word.” When you think of being welcoming, you may think of how it might affect the person being invited in. However, it affects you, the welcomer, as well. It makes you a softer, more open, and kinder person. It's not something you do out of obligation or debt, or to receive praise from an onlooker. It is truly its own reward. And so it is with preparing for the High Holidays. Don't do it out of guilt or obligation, or to be more pious than someone else. Start to think about the upcoming season (and indeed this season of preparation RIGHT NOW), because it will enhance the quality of *your* life. Ok, so maybe it isn't entirely altruistic after all. You know what? I'll give you credit for it anyway.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Gerber
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