Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

TZEDAKAH AND GEMILUTH CHASADIM,
ALMS AND CHARITY
צדקה וגמילות חסדים
If there be among you a poor man of one of thy brethren, within any of thy gates, in thy land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thy heart, nor shut thy hand from thy poor brother: but thou shalt surely open thy hand wide unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need in that which he wanteth.
Beware that there be not a base thought in thy heart, saying: “The seventh year, the year of release, is at hand”; and thine eye be evil against thy poor brother, and thou givest him nought; and he cry unto the Lord against thee, and it be a sin unto thee.
Thou shalt surely give him, and thy heart shall not be grieved when thou givest unto him; because that for this thing the Lord thy God will bless thee in all thy work, and in all that thou puttest thy hand unto.
For the poor shall never cease out of the land; therefore I command thee, saying: “Thou shalt surely open thy hand wide unto thy brother, to thy poor, and to thy needy in thy land.”
DEUT. XV, 7–11
“Thou shalt open thy hand unto thy brother, to thy needy”; with these words God calls you to your loveliest, holiest, most God-like task, calls upon you to become a blessing with all He gives you, a blessing to those around you. Look around you in the great house of your Father: all are called to share this blessing. Everything sustains and is sustained, everything takes and gives and receives a thousandfold in giving—for it receives life instead of mere existence. And do you alone wish only to take and not to give? And shall the great flow of blessing cease with you? Would you be as a stream which dries up in the arid sand and fails to give back to the sea that which it has received?
Once you have pondered upon the thought—that you are nothing so long as you exist only for yourself, that you only become something when you mean something to others—that you have nothing so long as you have it only for yourself, that you only possess something when you share it with others—that even the penny in your pocket is not yours but only becomes so when you spend it for a blessed purpose; and when you have experienced the supreme happiness of giving, the bliss of the knowledge that you have fed the hungry, clothed the naked, comforted the sick, cheered the unhappy, provided for the needy, then will you rejoice in the great task to which God has called you—to be a blessing with all that you possess; then will you willingly give all to purchase a moment of such knowledge.
But as soon as you perceive that what you are doing is only your duty, your vocation, your task as a human being and as a Jew, you will struggle against this feeling of bliss in order to remain a pure servant of God in your good work, to think of nothing else, and to act with no other purpose than to fulfil the will of your Father in heaven, and to give light and warmth and nourishment and comfort just as a ray of sunlight gives light in the service of God.
Why should God give you more than you need unless He intended to make you the administrator of this blessing for the benefit of others, the treasurer of His treasures? Every penny you can spare is not yours, but should become a tool for bringing blessings to others—and would you close your hand on something that is not yours?
That is why our Sages prefer to give the beautiful name of tzedakah (צדקה) to this act of charity by means of material goods. For tzedakah is the justice which gives to every creature that which God allots to it; and if tzedakah, as practised by God, means His tender justice which metes out to each human being not what he deserves but what he is capable of bearing, then for the human being it is that tender justice, God’s love, and not another man’s right against you, which entitles him to his claim on you.
A poor man comes to you, and in him God sends you His child that you shall clothe and feed, look after and care for, and that it shall bring you greater blessings than you give. But when pity, or rather the voice of duty, opens your hand to give or to lend, do not let the cold, unreasonable voice of what you believe is clever calculation close it once more in the act of charity, while you ponder whether you will ever get back your loan, or reflect that the gift will make you poorer.
For is what you hold then really yours? Has not God, then, a right to your all? And when He makes demands on you for His child, will you lock up, will you close, your hand? The poor man is not forsaken; God is his Protector; but yours is the sin before the Father, that you did not help the child with the Father’s riches, and claimed as ‘Mine!’ that which is God’s and which He has promised not to you alone but also to all in need.
The law says that tzedakah is a high duty, and the repudiation of this duty can bring heavy consequences, even death. Nobody becomes poor through tzedakah, and God has proclaimed, ‘Never will tzedakah become the cause of any grave suffering or misfortune.’ To him who has compassion for the poor, the Lord also will show compassion. As you wish God to hearken to your prayers, so shall you hearken to the prayers of the poor. Give, and neither to your children nor to your grandchildren, not even to your remoter descendants, will help be wanting.

Everyone is liable to the duty of tzedakah. Even the poor man who lives on tzedakah shall give tzedakah from what he can spare from his allowance. The child who eats at his father’s table and the servant who eats at the table of his master may give a morsel of bread to the poor without question; for it is tacitly permitted.
Do you wish genuinely to fulfil the duty of tzedakah? Then let it be the best of your possessions that you sacrifice, the best food to the hungry, the best raiment to the naked; for it is a sacrifice laid upon God’s altar—let it be a worthy sacrifice (Y.D. 248).
When you can, give according to the need of the poor; if your means do not allow it, give at least one-tenth, at most one-fifth, of your wealth as tzedakah. Do this the first year that you acquire wealth; thenceforward give one-tenth or one-fifth of your yearly income; no one shall give more than one-fifth, so that he himself shall not become needful of help.

*(This limitation applies only to one who actively goes out seeking the poor in order to give. In such a case, we are concerned about excessive zeal and therefore set a boundary.
However, if a person remains at home or in his office and is not actively pursuing opportunities to give, there is no concern that he will give excessively. In that situation, he may give more than one-fifth, because the fear of reckless generosity does not exist. The concern of his becoming impoverished does not apply, since he is not driven by zealous pursuit but gives deliberately and with calculation.)

The tenth that has been put aside shall, for preference, be for the benefit of the poor, but it may also be employed for other sacred purposes which, without this money, you could not have aspired to; for instance, to buy books for your own as well as others’ study of the Torah, which otherwise you would not have been able to afford, but then they will not be your exclusive property which you may sell again or otherwise dispose of. You must not, however, repay out of this tenth any services which have been rendered you.
That which you give, give with a friendly mien, with a good and cheerful heart, with feeling and with kindly, consoling words. If you give in a surly manner, then is your face taking back what your hand has given. If you cannot accede to the requests of the needy, do not turn him angrily away, give him encouragement, show him your goodwill and that it grieves you not to be able to help him. Never turn a poor man empty away, even if it be only a scrap of bread that you give him.
If you can persuade others to do good, then you have the double reward of charity and the encouragement of charitable living.
Summary — The Hard Truth About Tzedakah
Rabbi Hirsch dismantles the modern lie that tzedakah exists for the poor. It does not. The poor survive with or without you. Tzedakah exists for the wealthy, so that wealth does not rot the soul, provoke judgment, or turn blessing into accusation.
Wealth is never ownership; it is trusteeship. The giver is not generous—he is compliant. Refusing to give is not stinginess; it is theft from God. The poor man has no claim against you, but God does.
Tzedakah is called justice, not kindness, because money beyond need was never yours to begin with. You are merely the treasurer of divine assets, and every coin withheld is a breach of duty. That is why the Torah warns of punishment, even death—not as threat, but as consequence. Hoarded blessing curdles into liability.
Giving purifies wealth. It prevents the giver from imagining himself self-made, insulated, or independent. It disciplines desire, humbles success, and aligns material life with divine purpose. The joy of giving is incidental; duty comes first. One gives not to feel good, but to remain human—and Jewish.

Summary — The Hard Truth About Tzedakah
Rabbi Hirsch dismantles the modern lie that tzedakah exists for the poor. It does not. The poor survive with or without you. Tzedakah exists for the wealthy, so that wealth does not rot the soul, provoke judgment, or turn blessing into accusation.
Wealth is never ownership; it is trusteeship. The giver is not generous—he is compliant. Refusing to give is not stinginess; it is theft from God. The poor man has no claim against you, but God does.
Tzedakah is called justice, not kindness, because money beyond need was never yours to begin with. You are merely the treasurer of divine assets, and every coin withheld is a breach of duty. That is why the Torah warns of punishment, even death—not as threat, but as consequence. Hoarded blessing curdles into liability.
Giving purifies wealth. It prevents the giver from imagining himself self-made, insulated, or independent. It disciplines desire, humbles success, and aligns material life with divine purpose. The joy of giving is incidental; duty comes first. One gives not to feel good, but to remain human—and Jewish.

The Stalker and the Secret of Charity
Charity is not mercy. It is surveillance.
The wealthy man is not a benefactor; he is a stalker—placed behind blessing, following it closely, watching where it must go. Wealth runs ahead; the man follows. He does not lead. He does not decide. He tracks.
The poor are not the point. They are the signal.
Money is released into the world to test whether the holder understands his position. If he imagines ownership, he fails. If he hesitates, calculates, delays, or moralizes, he exposes himself. The stalker who loses sight of his target is no longer useful.
Tzedakah is not generosity; it is alignment. The giver is required to move when wealth moves. Not emotionally. Not heroically. Mechanically. Faithfully. As a shadow follows a body.
Refusal to give is not cruelty to the poor; it is rebellion against assignment. The punishment is not imposed—it is automatic. Blessing that is blocked turns hostile. Retained wealth does not stay neutral; it indicts.
The stalker does not ask whether the prey “deserves” pursuit. He does not stop to admire himself. He does not confuse vigilance with kindness. He knows the rules: stay close, stay quiet, stay obedient.
That is the purpose of charity.
Not to fix the poor.
To keep the wealthy from losing the plot.

The Gate of Self-Accounting demands that a person stop lying to himself. Not about grand ideals, but about daily conduct—how he lives among others, what he expects from the world, and how he interprets existence itself. The work confronts two areas people routinely evade: responsibility toward others, and sustained awareness of the order embedded in the world.
A person must take stock of how he participates in society. Human life is not lived in isolation. Plowing and reaping, buying and selling, labor and exchange—these are not neutral transactions but shared endeavors that either build or corrode a society. One must desire for others what he desires for himself, recoil from their suffering as from his own, and actively shield them from harm. This is not sentimental kindness; it is disciplined responsibility. Anything less is self-deception.
To make this unavoidable, the text offers a stark analogy. A small group travels a difficult road to a distant land. They are few, the burdens are heavy, and the journey is long. Each man is responsible for many beasts that must be loaded and unloaded repeatedly. If they assist one another, share the load, and genuinely seek the welfare of the group, they remain strong. If they fracture, compete, and pursue selfish advantage, exhaustion and collapse are inevitable.
This is not metaphorical poetry—it is social reality. Societies fail not because the road is too hard, but because cooperation breaks down. When each person seeks more than his share, the world itself becomes hostile. People complain endlessly about life because they demand luxuries while resenting the cost of necessities. Excess desire fractures trust, and once trust collapses, even abundance becomes bitter.
This is where many strong Jewish communities quietly diverged from the broader world. Their durability, survival, and often-envied success did not emerge from brilliance or historical luck, but from an uncompromising ethic of mutual responsibility. The principle that all Jews are responsible for one another is not inspirational language—it is an operational rule. It restrains unchecked individualism and forces success to remain communal rather than merely personal.
Where this framework held, communities endured. Where it weakened, fragmentation followed. Jews who left disciplined communal life to pursue individual success in the open world often achieved material gains. But those gains were detached from structure. Community became secondary. Family weakened. Continuity thinned. Success narrowed into a private achievement rather than a generational asset. Over time, even prosperity failed to anchor them, because it was no longer embedded in a living system.
The broader world offers a parallel lesson. Most societies fractured as tribal bonds dissolved into competing individuals. Clans collapsed into isolated units, each extracting for itself. The few exceptions—such as certain Arab nomadic clans that preserved strict family loyalty, shared economic obligation, and collective authority—succeeded precisely because they resisted fragmentation. Their systems were not soft, open, or egalitarian. They were disciplined, hierarchical, and insulated.
Judaism functions in a strikingly similar way. It is clan-based without being primitive, collective without erasing the individual, insulated without being ignorant. The tighter the bonds, the clearer the roles, and the stronger the insulation from corrosive external values, the more resilient the community becomes. This insulation is not fear of the world; it is restraint against chaos. It channels ambition, limits excess, and preserves continuity.
When people would be content with what suffices for their needs and strive for the common good, they would overcome obstacles and attain more than they imagine. Instead, the prevailing pattern is obstruction. People do not merely fail to help one another—they actively hinder. Each person weakens the other’s effort, and the result is collective failure: no one fully attains what he seeks because everyone cripples everyone else.
From this reality flows sober guidance. Companions must be chosen carefully. Faithful colleagues and true friends are not luxuries; they are necessities for both spiritual and worldly survival. Such people should be as dear as one’s own soul—but only once proven worthy. Blind openness is foolish. Many speak kindly; few are loyal; almost none are safe custodians of one’s inner life.
Finally, self-accounting cannot stop at society alone. It must extend to the structure of existence itself. One must reflect on the world in its full hierarchy—from the smallest creature to the greatest, from earthly processes to higher orders, from celestial movement to the emergence of new life. These realities testify to wisdom, power, governance, compassion, and providence far beyond human control.
The greatest danger here is not ignorance, but dullness. Familiarity erodes wonder. Repetition breeds indifference. Prior knowledge becomes an excuse to stop looking. When wonder dies, reflection dies with it. A world stripped of awe becomes mechanical, and a person living in such a world loses humility, gratitude, and restraint.
Summary
Life is heavy, and it was never meant to be carried alone. Societies collapse from selfishness, not hardship. Discontent grows from excess desire, not scarcity. Strong communities endure because they bind individuals into responsibility rather than indulgence. True companionship is rare and must be earned. And a person who ceases to reflect—on others or on the order of the world—inevitably drifts into arrogance and dissatisfaction.
Self-accounting is not introspection for its own sake. It is the discipline of seeing reality as it is: shared, demanding, structured, and filled with meaning for those willing to look honestly.

What the Jewish Festivals Teach
and What Resolution They Aim to Evoke
— Samson Raphael Hirsch
Pesach
Teachings
General:
God rules over both Nature and the history of nations, separating day from night, life from death. In particular, the One God is Israel’s Creator and Saviour—Israel is God’s property, God’s servant.
Resolution:
To remain loyal as a rock to the One God in the destiny and life to which He determined Israel as a nation and you personally as a son of Israel.
This leads to אהבה, love of God.
Shavuoth
Teachings
General:
God summons everything in Nature and humanity to its task, educates mankind to its mission, aims at having human action as the servant of His will and reveals His will for that purpose.
In particular:
The One God is Israel’s Lawgiver. Israel’s only task: To bear and fulfil this Divine law and thus to be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.
Torah:
Comes from God, is Israel’s ground of existence.
Resolution:
To cling to this Torah—for the fulfilment of which God caused you to be born in the House of Israel—more than to your very life.
This leads to יראה, fear of God.
Sukkoth
Teachings
General:
God is the Sustainer of Nature and mankind, Master and Distributor of all means of life.
In particular:
Israel was not only created by Him but also continues to exist through Him. Only from Him comes preservation in the happy as well as in the dark hours of life.
Resolution:
To look up to God in times of success, as the Source of success, and in need as the Sustainer in need; to preserve a modest sobriety in the face of good fortune, courage and confidence in the face of misfortune.
This leads to אמונה, trust in God.
Shemini Atzereth
Teachings
General:
God rejuvenates again and again the forces of development.
In particular:
He keeps His spirit eternally alive in Israel; the Torah is protected in Israel by God, and men of spirit are aroused within Israel by God.
Resolution:
To drink and to give to drink joyfully from the fountain of the Torah even if thousands scorn it;
to cultivate joyfully the light of the Torah, even if thousands announce its extinction;
to know that God, from Whom the fountain wells forth, will cause it to flow on pure, that He Who kindled the light will never allow it to become extinguished.
This leads to שמחה, joy in God.

The need for special abstinence
It is necessary for adherents to the Torah to practice abstinence, since the Torah’s aim is to enable the intellect to rule and prevail over all selfish desires. It is known that the predominance of desire over intellect is the beginning of all sin and the source of all disgrace.
People incline toward [this] world only after they stray from the faith. Base instinct entices them to forsake the redemptive world [of reason and faith] and turns them aside from the way of their forefathers, which was the way of worldly contentment, meeting basic needs, and taking from the world only what is necessary.
The instinct attracts them to an indulgent lifestyle and a pursuit of wealth, enamoring them of this world’s luxury and prominence, until finally they sink in the depths of its sea, forced to face the crush of its waves. The [material] world rules them, stopping up their ears and closing their eyes. There is not one among them who occupies himself with anything but his own pleasure — whenever he can attain it and the opportunity presents itself. [Pleasure] becomes his law and religion, driving him away from God. As it says, “Your own wickedness will punish you, your own sins will rebuke you…” (Yirmeyahu 2:19).
Then there are those among them who are denied their pleasure, yet their mind is always on it and their soul pines for it, hankers after it, and constantly seeks it, day and night, as it says: “While on his bed he thinks evil thoughts; he sets himself on a way that is not good” (Tehillim 36:5).
All their years they are mired in matters of this world, precluded from attaining the good that is in it, too weary to attain it. They are losers in the transaction they have concluded and diminish their own souls. They choose evil, ignorant of the value of what they give up and of what they receive in its stead, as it says: “They exchanged their Glory for the image of a bull that eats grass” (ibid. 106:20).
The demands of a growing addiction and the pressures of a debilitating materialism preoccupy their minds incessantly with ever-new worldly distractions, entrenching this world’s strivings in their hearts. The closer they get, the more distant they become; the further they draw away from the light of truth from which they have withdrawn, the stronger their bond with base instinct, their intimate.
In this way, the darkness grows thicker about them. This world looms large in their hearts, its excellence enchanting them. They develop this world at the expense of their minds; the more the world is developed, the more their minds are wasted, until finally they consider the evil way of the world good, the crooked way straight. They even make it the rule and ideal.
Parents bequeath [these values] to their children, raising their offspring by them. The masses are charged [to live] by them; their princes vie over them. In the end, the [evil] instinct is firmly established among them. Their homes are filled with emptiness. What used to be considered strange in the world seems acceptable to them, and the right way appears foreign to them. To be content without luxuries is considered a failure of duty.
Each one does what he sees his neighbor doing. He who takes from this world only what is sufficient for his needs is called an idler; he who neglects to increase his holdings is considered derelict. One who is content with an adequate livelihood is thought weak; one who is wholly engrossed in worldly gain is thought industrious.
Drawing their pride and esteem from this world, for its sake they join together, or become hostile, or reconcile; for its rewards they make their bellies their god, their clothing their religion, improvement of their dwellings their ideal.
Astray in the depths of ignorance, moving monotonously in a lifeless routine, laden with burdens of selfish desires, they expect [to receive] the reward of the obedient for acts of disobedience, [to attain] the high degree of saints for wicked conduct. As our Sages, of blessed memory, said: “They act like Zimri and expect a reward like that of Pinchas” (Sotah 22b).
2. What defines special abstinence, and why is it necessary for the adherents to the Torah?
The Sages differ as to its definition. One says that abstinence [means] renunciation of anything that keeps one from God.
Another says: abstinence [means] abhorring the [physical] world and limiting desires.
Another says: abstinence [means] tranquillity of the soul and denial of its aspirations for comfort.
Another says: abstinence [means] reliance on God.
Another says: abstinence [means] limiting oneself to very basic clothing and to only enough food to relieve one’s hunger, and spurning anything beyond this.
Another says: abstinence [means] renouncing love of the creatures and loving solitude.
Another says: abstinence [means] thanksgiving for favor and bearing trials patiently.
Another says: abstinence [means] denying oneself all comforts and physical pleasures except the natural needs without which one could not [continue to] exist, and drawing the soul away from anything beyond this. This definition is more in accord with the abstinence taught in our Torah than are the other definitions that we mentioned.
counter it with the special abstinence defined at the beginning of this chapter. Employing it, they could stand up to the instinct, until [abstinence] restored them to the right path of the Torah, which is essential to the religion and to the world.
Hence, it became necessary that there be, among the adherents to the Torah, select individuals who would be the bearers of this special abstinence and assume its conditions. Their [example of] abstinence would then assist the adherents to the Torah when their hearts and traits inclined to low desires under the influence of the instinct. They would serve as physicians of religion and of the souls, healing them when they strayed from honorable traits to those that lead to shame, when their evil instincts overcame their minds, when worldly excesses distracted them from the things vital to their faith.
If an individual who is sick in his faith or an afflicted soul who is beset with doubts comes to them, they will hasten to cure him by the true wisdom that is in their possession. If it is one who runs away from God’s service, they will bring him back to it and encourage him. If it is one who is weighed down by his sins, they will reassure him that, when he repents of them, God will forgive him. If one who has forgotten God comes to them, they will remind him. If it is a righteous man, they will strengthen him; one who loves God, they will love him; one who lauds God’s power, they will laud him. If a person sins, they will implore him to repent immediately. If one is ill, they will visit him. If they have more than is needed of worldly possessions, they will give of them to [the needy]. If someone suffers misfortune, they will come to his assistance.
They [function] in the world like the sun, which spreads its light throughout the universe, above and below

Concluding Summary: Knowledge as the Foundation of Abstinence
An ignorant person—one who has not studied the ways of the Torah and has not grasped the path of God—cannot fully embrace the importance of abstinence. This is not a moral insult but a structural reality. Abstinence is not an instinctive trait; it is a disciplined response grounded in understanding. Just as physical strength cannot be developed without knowledge of exercise and consistent training, self-restraint cannot exist without clarity of purpose and direction.
Where understanding is absent, desire fills the vacuum. A person who does not know why restraint matters has no internal reason to resist temptation. When presented with many choices, such a person does not exercise freedom; he experiences confusion. He moves from impulse to impulse, not because he desires evil, but because he lacks a framework through which to judge what is worthy and what is harmful. Choice without wisdom does not lead to control—it leads to paralysis and excess.
The Torah therefore places abstinence after knowledge, not before it. One must first understand the purpose of life, the nature of the soul, and the danger of unchecked desire. Only then can restraint become a positive force rather than an arbitrary burden. Without this foundation, attempts at self-control collapse under pressure, and indulgence is rationalized as necessity.
This is why societies that glorify choice while neglecting wisdom produce individuals who are perpetually restless, dissatisfied, and morally uncertain. Abstinence requires vision. Where there is ignorance, there can be no enduring discipline—only momentary restraint followed by inevitable surrender.

Testing Gd by Giving Away
Main source: Malachi 3:9–10
Verse 9
“You are cursed with a curse, yet you [continue to] steal from Me — the entire nation.”
What the theft is (not metaphorical)
Rashi:
The theft is concrete: withholding ma‘aser and terumah owed to the Kohanim and Levites.
Result: a curse on human effort — work continues, output collapses.
Radak:
This curse is not isolated. It compounds earlier moral failures (blemished offerings, foreign marriages).
Refusing tithes adds weight to an already unstable structure.
Why “the entire nation” matters
Radak:
Earlier sins were committed by individuals or groups.
Withholding tithes was universal — systemic failure triggers systemic punishment.
Halachic fallout (Avodah Zarah 36b):
A rabbinic enactment binds only when the community accepts it.
Here, the whole nation rejected the obligation — hence the collective curse.
Economic result
Radak / Metzudos:
Rain withholds. Land produces poorly.
Same labor, worse outcome. Effort is no longer proportional to reward.
Verse 10
“Bring all the tithes into the storehouse… Test Me with this… if I do not open for you the windows of heaven and pour blessing without end.”
This verse is the reversal clause.
“Bring all the tithes”
Metzudos / Radak:
Because everyone failed, everyone must now comply fully.
Centralized storehouse ensures continuous support for Kohanim and Levites.
Abarbanel:
Not grudging compliance — wholehearted giving is the condition.
“Test Me” — the exception
Taanis 9a (explicitly cited):
Testing God is normally forbidden (Deut. 6:16).
Tithes are the sole exception.
Sefer HaChinuch (Mitzvah 424):
The verse itself invites the test — not faith-blindness, but measurable outcome.
This is not spiritual language.
It is cause-and-effect.
“Blessing without end” (עַד־בְּלִי־דָי)
Radak / Metzudos:
Yield exceeds storage capacity. Logistics fail before blessing does.
Taanis 9a (Rav):
“Bli” read as “wear out” — lips wear out from saying ‘enough’.
Malbim:
This blessing bypasses natural law.
Anything governed by nature has limits; this does not.
Legal authority of the promise
Makkos 23b:
The enactment “Bring all the tithes” was:
Initiated by an earthly beit din
Ratified by the heavenly beit din
Rivan:
Originated with King Hezekiah.
Malachi’s prophecy confirms divine endorsement.
Bottom Line (No Soft Language)
Verse 9 establishes financial collapse as punishment, not misfortune.
Verse 10 establishes measurable financial protection and expansion, not symbolism.
This is the only mitzvah with a written divine guarantee.
The Torah frames tithing as:
Ownership test
Trust verification
Trigger for supernatural abundance
Failure breaks the system.
Compliance reopens it.

Bottom Line (with Minchat Chinuch 424 added)
Verse 9 establishes financial collapse as punishment, not misfortune. Verse 10 establishes measurable financial protection and expansion, not symbolism. This is the only mitzvah in the Torah with a written divine guarantee, and it is not framed as a miracle but as a predictable outcome of proper alignment.
The Minchat Chinuch (מצוה תכ״ד) makes this explicit: the command to “test Me” here is not a forbidden test of God, because it is not a demand for a sign or miracle, but a lawful expectation that one who fulfills the mitzvah will be blessed through natural channels:
שֶׁמִּצְוָה זוֹ לֹא נִתְּנָה לְנַסּוֹת בָּהּ אֶת הַנָּבִיא… וְעִנְיַן הַנִּסָּיוֹן כָּאן אֵינוֹ בְּמַעֲשֵׂה מוֹפֵת וְנֵס כְּלָל, רַק אָדָם מִצְוָה עָשֵׂה שֶׁיִּתְבָּרֵךְ…
In other words: this is not faith theater. It is cause and effect built into creation itself. One who gives ma‘aser is not gambling on heaven; he is demonstrating trusteeship, and once that is proven, the system responds. The Torah therefore treats tithing as an ownership test, a trust verification, and a trigger for protection and increase — not because God is persuaded, but because the person has aligned himself with the way blessing is designed to flow.

Full language of the Chinuch 424:

שֶׁמִּצְוָה זוֹ לֹא נִתְּנָה לְנַסּוֹת יוֹתֵר מִדַּי אֶת הַנָּבִיא
וְעַיֵּן נֶאֱמַר לֹא תְנַסּוּ אֶת ה׳ וְכוּ׳. מְבֹאָר בָּרַמְבַּ״ם בְּסוֹף פּ״ו
מֵהִלְכוֹת יְסוֹדֵי הַתּוֹרָה וְעַיֵּן בַּכֶּסֶף מִשְׁנֶה שֶׁכָּתַב דְּאַחֲרֵי זֶה
שְׁנֵי חִלּוּקִים בֵּין הָרַמְבַּ״ם וְהַסְּמַ״ג דְּרַ״ם חָשַׁב לְלָאו נִסָּיוֹן הַנָּבִיא
וְהַסְּמַ״ג כָּתַב דְּאַחֲרֵי זֶה שֶׁלֹּא יַעֲשֶׂה אָדָם מִצְוָה עַל מְנָת שֶׁיִּתְבָּרֵךְ
וְהָרַב הַמְחַבֵּר כָּל שָׁנִים בְּאַחֲרֵי זֶה. וְהָרַמְבַּ״ם אֵינוֹ מֵבִיא זֶה
כְּבַמִּשְׁנֶה תּוֹרָה. וְעַיֵּן בַּסֵּפֶר יְד יְהוּדָה סי׳ רמ״א מְבוֹאָר דְּבַכָּאן
צְדָקָה מוּתָּר לְנַסּוֹת. וְעַיֵּן בָּרַמָ״א בְּסִי׳ תּנ״ז בְּסִי׳ י״ז.

Another view from a different source.

No man is ever impoverished from giving alms, nor is evil or harm ever caused by it; as it is written, “And the work of righteousness shall be peace.”⁴Isaiah 32:17. A play on the word Tsedakah meaning “righteousness” and also “charity.”

רמזו [ז] ואמרו חכמים בכל דבר אסור לנסות וכו׳. כתב בית יוסף ועיין
מתוך פסקי תקנות למעשר וקבל על עצמו לכך ע״כ. והוא מטעם
שכתב הרמ״א שהבחינה בפרנסה ולענין הכסף דומה לנסות הקב״ה
ח״ו. ולפ״ז יש לחלק בין מעשר כספים למעשר מן התבואה, דבמעשר
התבואה הוי מעשר מפורש בתורה, ולכן הותר לנסות, וכן במעשר
כספים יש לדון או חומש הוי דין מעשר כמעשר תבואה ורקבון
ושניהם ניתנו ממקור אחד, ולכך הוי מעשר כספים בכלל מעשר
התבואה. וכתב הדרישה בסעיף קטן ג׳ בשם האחרונים דמעשר
כספים מן הרווחים הוי בכלל מעשר, דהכל יוצא ממקור אחד.
ואף דיש חולקים בזה, מ״מ רוב האחרונים מסכימים דמעשר
כספים ומעשר תבואה דין אחד להם, ומותר לנסות בזה.

1.
They traveled southward and reached the city close to the border, Be’er Sheva, which was sanctified by the memory of his fathers. There he offered זבחים.
2.
We do not find elsewhere that our patriarchs offered זבחים. Like all the other descendants of Noach, they offered only עולות. Whereas עולה expresses complete personal devotion to God, זבח is actually a family meal that is eaten by the בעלים. It consecrates the family’s home and table as a temple and an altar. זבחים, which are generally called שלמים, express the loftier idea that God comes into our midst. They are offered with the joyful awareness that אלקים קרוב לכל קוראיו (Tehillim 145:18): God is present wherever a family is faithful to God and knows that it is upheld by Him.
3.
The meaning of קרבן שלמים reaches into every mundane detail of life. The ordinary things we do — going to school, getting dressed, putting on shoes, choosing how we dress, how we eat, how we speak, how we travel — are not spiritually empty actions. When done with proper intention, they are comparable to bringing a korban. Not a dramatic offering consumed on an altar, but a constant offering woven into daily existence. Hashem did not create the physical world to be rejected, but to be elevated. When a person lives with the intention to do what Hashem wants, to acknowledge Him as Creator, and to act in a way that reflects His will, the physical act itself becomes spiritual service. In this way, existence itself is offered back to Hashem. This is how the world is brought into the service of God — not by escape from life, but by correct engagement with it. This idea reflects the original universal mission of mankind, often associated with the שבע מצוות בני נח, which in earlier generations expressed the basic structure through which the world recognized its Creator. Though that framework is no longer practiced in its original form, the purpose remains: that the world itself be drawn into the service of Hashem. Judaism preserves this vision by sanctifying everyday life rather than abandoning it.
4.
That is why קרבן שלמים, the “peace offering” of a family life blessed by God, is a distinctively Jewish offering. The idea of being absorbed in God or devoted to God exists even outside Judaism. But the idea that everyday life can become so thoroughly pervaded by the presence of God that one can eat and drink and, while doing so, behold God (cf. Shemot 24:11); that family rooms become sanctuaries, tables become altars, and ordinary men and women become servants of God — this spiritualization of private life is a unique contribution of Judaism.
5.
Yaakov-Yisrael at this time did not offer עולות but זבחים, because now, for the first time, Yaakov felt happy, joyous, and “complete” (שלם) within the circle of his family. With this awareness and with this feeling, he brought a family offering to God. And with this feeling, he brought his offering not to אלקים in general, but specifically to אלקי אבי יצחק.
6.
In the song at the Red Sea, Israel says (Shemot 15:2): זה א-לי ואנוהו אלקי אבי וארוממנהו — “This is my God and I will make Him a dwelling; the God of my father, and I will exalt Him.” God is not only acknowledged abstractly; He is invited to dwell within the lived human world.
7.
Accordingly, Yaakov did not attribute his happiness or completeness to his own merit, but to the merit of his fathers (זכות אבות). What he achieved was not innovation, but faithful realization — taking what he received and allowing it to fully inhabit his life.
8.
There may also be an allusion here to the עקידה. Until now, Yaakov’s life had been one long form of binding and sacrifice — struggle, exile, and restraint. At this moment, he senses the approach of renewal: not the abandonment of sacrifice, but its transformation into a lived, sustained holiness embedded within family, home, and daily life.

Yaakov at Be’er Sheva: The Holiness of Family Life
“They traveled southward and reached the city close to the border, Be’er Sheva, which was sanctified by the memory of his fathers. There he offered זבחים.”
“We do not find elsewhere that our patriarchs offered זבחים. Like all the other descendants of Noach, they offered only עולות.”
“Whereas עולה expresses complete personal devotion to God, זבח is actually a family meal that is eaten by the בעלים. It consecrates the family’s home and table as a temple and an altar.”
“זבחים, which are generally called ‘שלמים,’ express the loftier idea that God comes into our midst.”
“They are offered with the joyful awareness that אלקים קדוש יצחק (Tehillim 14:5): God is present wherever a family is faithful to God and knows that it is upheld by Him.”
“That is why שלמים קרבן, the ‘peace offering’ of a family life blessed by God, is a distinctively Jewish offering.”
“But the idea that everyday life can become so thoroughly pervaded by the spirit of God that one can eat and drink and, while doing so, behold God (cf. Shemos 24:11); the idea that all our family rooms become temples, our tables altars, and our young men and young women priests and priestesses — this spiritualization of everyday private life is a unique contribution of Judaism.”
“Ya‘akov-Yisrael at this time did not offer עולות but זבחים, because now, for the first time, Ya‘akov felt happy, joyous and ‘complete’ (שלם) within the circle of his family.”
“With this awareness and with this feeling, he brought a ‘family offering’ to God.”
“And with this feeling, he brought his offering not to אלקים in general, but to אלקי אביו יצחק.”
“In the song at the Red Sea Israel says: זה א-לי ואנוהו אלקי אבי וארוממנהו (Shemos 15:2).”
“Here, too, Ya‘akov did not ascribe his happiness to his own merit but to the merit of his fathers (זכות אבות).”
“There may also be here an allusion to the עקידה. Thus far, Ya‘akov’s whole life has been little else but the realization of an עקידה.”
Summary: The Source of Sanctified Daily Life
This passage is the foundational source for the Jewish understanding that there is no real divide between the mundane and the holy within family life. The table at which a Jewish family eats is elevated to the status of an altar. Food eaten on an ordinary weekday, when acquired honestly and consumed properly, is not spiritually inferior to food eaten on a holy day.
Yaakov introduces something entirely new: holiness is not found by escaping the world, but by bringing God into the world. Marriage, having children, honest business dealings, faithful relationships, and a pure, disciplined community are not distractions from holiness — they are its expression.
By offering זבחים / שלמים, Yaakov teaches that God dwells within the shared life of the family. This transforms daily existence itself into divine service. For the first time, holiness is fully brought down into ordinary life, turning even the weekday into sacred ground.

This passage is the source for the Jewish idea that the mundane and the holy are the same realm when lived correctly. There is no separate “religious world” and “ordinary world” in Judaism. The table at which a family eats at home is no less holy than an altar. Food eaten on a weekday, when acquired honestly and consumed properly, is not inferior to food eaten on a holy day.
Yaakov introduces something entirely new into religious history. He does not escape the world to find God; he brings God into the world. Eating, drinking, marriage, intimacy, having children, earning a living, building a community—these are not distractions from holiness. They are its primary vehicles.
By offering זְבָחִים / שְׁלָמִים, Yaakov teaches that God dwells within family life itself. Business conducted honestly, a faithful relationship between husband and wife, children raised in purity, and a community that values cleanliness—moral and physical—are expressions of divine service.
This is not a filthy world to be rejected. It is a world meant to be elevated.
For the first time, holiness is not limited to moments of sacrifice or withdrawal. It is lived daily. Weekdays become sacred not by abandoning life, but by living it correctly.
That is Yaakov’s lesson:
Holiness enters the world through existence itself.

Chazal teach a hard truth: destruction happens in a moment; building takes years. One brick removed can bring down an entire wall, but rebuilding that wall requires patience, strength, and persistence. The same is true of a human being. A single sin, chosen willingly, can undo years of spiritual construction. Desire is fast. Repair is slow.
This is why Torah repentance is demanding. Judaism never offered shortcuts, slogans, or symbolic absolution. It demands binyan ha’adam — rebuilding the person himself. That rebuilding follows a precise structure. There are no alternatives and no substitutes.
1. Remorse — Recognizing the Damage
The first step is honest regret. Not regret over consequences or embarrassment, but recognition that real damage was done before Hashem. Without this clarity, nothing meaningful begins. A person who refuses to face what he broke has already failed at rebuilding.
2. Desisting from the Sin — Stopping Further Collapse
Remorse without change is worthless. The second step is to stop the behavior entirely. As long as the sin continues, the structure keeps collapsing. You cannot rebuild while still tearing the wall down.
3. Confession — Owning the Failure
Confession is humility in action. Saying “I sinned” strips away excuses and self-deception. What is hidden remains broken; what is admitted can be repaired.
4. Resolution — Rebuilding for the Future
The final step is a firm commitment never to return to the sin. Not emotion, not hope — decision. This is the cornerstone of rebuilding. Without it, the wall may stand briefly, but it will fall again.
The Reward — Eternal and Beyond Time
Because teshuvah is hard, its reward is immense. When a person completes these four steps sincerely, he does not merely erase guilt — he cleans himself before Hashem. The soul is restored, refined, and prepared for eternity.
This reward is not limited to this world. It extends into Olam HaBa and reaches its fullness in Techiyat HaMetim, the resurrection of the dead. That future existence is not bound by time, decay, or loss. It is permanence. What is rebuilt here through effort stands forever there.
Perfection demands labor. Anything eternal must be earned. A moment of sin can destroy years, but years of honest rebuilding create something that outlives time itself. Teshuvah is difficult because existence is serious — and because what it builds is everlasting.

No one knows the true wisdom behind creation.
Anyone who claims otherwise is speaking poetry or selling religion to the unsophisticated.
An infinite, perfect Being lacks nothing. He does not need a world, worshippers, or praise. The question itself — why would God create anything — already breaks logic, because need cannot apply to infinity.
What we are told, carefully and sparingly, is this:
Creation is an act of giving, not necessity. God willed to bestow existence, consciousness, and goodness — not for His sake, but for ours.
This World: Gratitude Through Action
This world exists so that man can recognize the gift of existence and respond to it correctly.
Not with abstract belief.
Not with mystical escape.
But with gratitude expressed through action.
Thanking God here does not mean words. It means:
Choosing good when it is costly
Restraining desire when no one sees
Acting faithfully inside limitation
Only in a world of concealment can gratitude be real.
The First Man: A Glimpse of the Intended State
Adam was not created as we are now.
He existed in a state where:
Physical and spiritual were integrated
Time did not dominate existence
Consciousness was clear, not fractured
That condition was not fantasy — it was potential. Humanity fell into fragmentation, effort, and mortality in order to earn, not receive, that state.
History is not decline.
It is reconstruction.
The Third World: Resurrection — Known Only in Outline
The world of resurrection is not described, because it cannot be.
Language fails.
Physical metaphors collapse.
Pleasure as we know it is irrelevant.
That is why Judaism refuses childish images — no gardens, no virgins, no indulgence. Those are crude projections of physical desire onto a reality that transcends it.
We are told only this:
Body and soul reunite
Existence is perfected
The community is whole
God’s presence is direct
Nothing more.
And that restraint is deliberate.
We are not meant to imagine it, pursue it, or escape toward it. Anyone obsessed with “what it’s like there” has already missed the point.
The Hard Truth
There is no comparison between physical pleasure and that state. None.
Trying to compare them is like comparing a shadow to the object casting it.
So Judaism does not motivate through promises of fantasy.
It demands seriousness, discipline, and humility.
Do the work here.
Repair what you touch.
Give thanks through action.
The rest is not for us to define.

Most arguments never needed to happen. They weren’t caused by real disagreement, but by bad timing. If a person would simply wait — not argue, not explain, not justify — the fight would dissolve before it ever formed.
Chazal state this bluntly:
“Al tiratzeh et chaveircha b’sha’at ka’aso” — do not try to appease your fellow while he is angry (Avos 4:18). This is not etiquette. It is a statement about human nature.
Anger Is Temporary — Damage Is Not
When anger is given time, it burns itself out. The person calms down and often explains on their own what really happened: pressure, misunderstanding, hunger, exhaustion. And very often, something even more revealing occurs — the anger itself fades to the point that the person barely remembers why he was upset.
What felt explosive minutes earlier suddenly feels small or irrelevant. That alone proves the argument was never worth having.
Rabbi Avigdor Miller’s Rule
Rabbi Avigdor Miller zt”l emphasized that responding during anger is not strength — it is foolishness. He taught that when irritation erupts, one should wait. Two minutes. Five minutes. Sometimes longer. Let the surge pass.
Rav Miller illustrated this with a sharp analogy: the difference between the janitor of a bank and the vice president. When challenged, the janitor reacts emotionally. The vice president remains calm. The distinction is not intelligence — it is emotional discipline.
Words spoken during emotional storms are permanent. Emotional storms themselves are not.
Don’t Approach a Raging Bull
You do not approach a raging bull to give it what it “needs.” You step back and let the charge end. Only afterward is calm possible — and so it is with people.
Trying to explain, correct, or “fix” things while someone is angry only pours oil on the fire. Silence and distance are not avoidance; they are wisdom.
Psychology Catches Up
Modern psychology confirms exactly what Chazal said long ago. During acute anger, rational thinking shuts down. Emotional reactivity dominates. Attempts at resolution during this state reliably escalate conflict rather than solve it.
Therapists therefore instruct couples to pause, disengage, eat, rest, and return later. Studies consistently show that even short delays — minutes, not hours — significantly reduce hostility and restore clarity.
As secular psychology puts it:
“When emotions run high, thinking shuts down.”
Another widely cited principle states:
“Nothing productive is resolved at the peak of anger.”
The Bottom Line
Wait, and the fire dies. Speak softly only after the heat has gone. Do that, and many arguments never happen at all.
Ignore this, and people destroy relationships over things they won’t even remember tomorrow.
This is not modern advice.
This is not therapy talk.
This is how human beings are built — and Chazal said it first.