Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

The relationship between God and Israel, established through the giving of the Law by God and its acceptance by Israel — is the context within which the significance of the Tabernacle as a whole and in its parts is to be sought and found. This significance explains why the chapters on the construction of the Tabernacle follow the chapters containing the fundamental principles of the Law and the covenant established on the basis of the Law.
If the construction of the מקדש־משכן is considered from this perspective, the materials to be donated for this construction signify the factors through which the consecration of life is to be realized, and the factors by which God’s sanctifying and blessed closeness is to be recognized. For it is from God that we first received these materials, with which we are to demonstrate our devotion to God, and by donating them we will get them back with a twofold blessing. As Yaakov said, when he laid the cornerstone and first foundation for the first House of God: וכל אשר תתן לי עשר אעשרנו לך (Bereshis 28:22). King David, when preparing for the building of the First Temple, expressed the same idea even more explicitly: כי ממך הכל ומידך נתנו לך (Divrei Ha-Yamim I, 29:14).
And just now the people were made aware of this idea — most succinctly but comprehensively — by the throwing of half of the blood of the covenant onto the altar and half toward the people (above, 24:6 and 8).
In Collected Writings, vol. III, pp. 169–173, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch zt”l showed that metals, because of their hardness, appear in תנ״ך as metaphors for firmness and strength (e.g., Yirmeyahu 1:18; Iyov 6:12; Yeshayahu 48:4). Because of their value, they appear as symbols of the value attached to spiritual assets (e.g., Mishlei 2:4; Tehillim 19:11; Iyov 28). But especially because of their metallurgical properties, they appear as symbols of all that is good and true in “alloys” containing various degrees of evil and falsehood, and as metaphors for the process of testing and refinement associated with truth and morality (e.g., Iyov 23:10; Zecharyah 13:9; Malachi 3:3; Mishlei 17:3; Yeshayahu 48:10; Mishlei 25:4; 10:20; 26:23; Yirmeyahu 6:29–30; Tehillim 119:119; Yechezkel 22:18; Yeshayahu 1:22; Daniyel 2:32–33). In all these passages, metals symbolize various degrees of moral purity and truth. Copper represents an ignoble nature, not yet refined. Silver signifies the stage of requiring purification and being amenable to refinement. Gold, which is usually found in unalloyed form and which can withstand the most rigorous tests, is a symbol of the purest and most refined moral nobility and of true and unfailing constancy.

This is the model for life.
Giving something back to Hashem from what He first gave you is not charity in the ordinary sense. It is recognition of reality. Nothing is truly yours. Your life was given to you. You did not purchase yourself. You did not create yourself. You did not design your mind, your talents, your health, your family, or the opportunities placed before you. Someone placed you on the trajectory that allowed you to receive what you now possess.
Whether a person is blessed with a brilliant mind, significant wealth, inherited assets, strong health, or even just the simple daily necessities that sustain ordinary life — all of it is a gift from God.
Truma and tzedakah are not losses. They are acknowledgments. They declare: “This was never mine to begin with.”
And that is why Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch zt”l speaks of a twofold blessing. When a person gives from what was entrusted to him, he receives it back refined. Elevated. Strengthened. Just as metals are purified through fire, so too a person’s possessions and abilities become purified through proper giving.
כי ממך הכל ומידך נתנו לך.
From You is everything, and from Your hand we give back to You.

וגר לא תונה וגר לא תלחצנו כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים
is closely connected with the thought expressed in the preceding verse. There it says that even a native-born Jew of the purest descent forfeits his life amidst the Jewish national community as soon as he departs, in the slightest degree, from the pure basic principle of Jewish worship of God. By contrast, here it says that one who was born a heathen is entitled to complete equality and full rights among Jews under Jewish law from the moment he joins the Jewish fold by accepting the basic principles of Judaism and Jewish worship.
The connection between these two verses marks the great principle, frequently reiterated in Scripture, that personal and civil rights, and personal worth, do not depend on descent, place of birth, or property ownership, nor do they depend on any external, incidental factor that bears no relationship to the individual’s true character. Rather, they depend solely on the individual’s moral and spiritual qualities.
The distinctive rationale כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים serves to safeguard this principle against any violation. For the meaning of this rationale is not the same as that of וזכרת כי עבד היית (below, 23:9). Rather, here it says simply and absolutely: כי גרים הייתם. Your whole misfortune in Egypt was that you were גרים there, and that as such, in the view of the other nations, you were not entitled to land, homeland, or existence there, and they could do with you as they pleased. As גרים you were without any rights in Egypt; this led to your עבדות (enslavement) and to your עינוי (affliction). Therefore we are warned: When you have a state of your own, do not make human rights dependent on anything other than the pure humanity inherent in every person. Any deprivation of human rights will open the door to all the abominations of tyranny and abuse that were practiced in Egypt.
גר stems from the root גרה, which is phonetically related to ינה (“to humble,” “to humiliate”), to כנה (“to call something by an incorrect name”), to the Rabbinic term גנה (“to vilify”), and perhaps also to קנה (“to bring under one’s control,” “to acquire”). The root גרה, then, means to illegally deprive of material or spiritual possessions. Thus (a) to defraud in commerce, in purchase or sale, וכי תמכרו ממכר לעמיתך או קנה מיד עמיתך אל תונו איש את אחיו (Vayikra 25:14); (b) to hurt with words in social intercourse, אונאת דברים.
Accordingly, וגר לא תונה would seem to mean: Do not wrong the stranger — neither by words nor by deeds. In Bava Metzia 58b, however, our verse is taken to refer to אונאת דברים. Below, on verses 21–22, which are closely related to our verse, we shall have to focus on the fluctuation between the singular and the plural form of address.

Pleasure and Asceticism
People who don’t understand Chovos Halevavos interpret this as an encouragement of strict asceticism and total rejection of the world. They find that difficult to deal with. But their interpretation is mistaken. What Chovos Halevavos wants you to do is reject becoming intoxicated by the pleasures of This World. However, these pleasures serve a very important purpose in your life, as long as you place them within the context of your service to Hashem. Always remember your priorities.
For example, Chovos Halevavos doesn’t want a person to feel that the bread he eats is tasteless, without pleasure. When he walks in the street and he sees the sunlight, he should not think it’s nothing. On the contrary, as was explained in Shaar Habechinah, the true servant of Hashem sees the kindness in everything. He sees how Hashem has put wisdom and kindness into all forms of material existence. As it says, *His greatness and His goodness fill the world.*³²³
So when he eats whatever he eats, he certainly enjoys it and he thanks Hashem that it’s so pleasant to eat food. There is no question about that. So what is Chovos Halevavos trying to tell us with his discussion of abstinence?
Chovos Halevavos is teaching that a person should never become overly enthusiastic about any material aspect of his existence. For example, he should never go overboard about the function of eating. He should not fall in love with nature. True, he should see in nature and in the bread that he eats all the kindness of Hashem, but he shouldn’t become enthusiastic about anything that is only a means to an end.
Similarly, David Hamelech fought for the people of Yisrael, but it wasn’t because he loved war or he wanted to conquer other nations. He was a servant of Hashem. When people get into the spirit of military activities and become enthusiastic about the martial arts, it’s not called the service of Hashem. If people want to be authors and writers for the purpose of gaining renown, it’s not called the service of Hashem.
If a person has a family and becomes so enthusiastic about them that they are the center of his life, he ceases to be a servant of Hashem.
Hashem wants him to have a family and raise children devoted to His service, as it says, *I have acquired a man for Hashem.*³²⁴ But He doesn’t want a man’s family to be his whole life. Certainly a person should enjoy his children. That attitude is part of enjoying the kindness of Hashem, but he shouldn’t become like somesome people who live for their children. There are people who can’t live without their children. They are always traveling to see their children and be with them. That becomes their life.
Growth With Action
Family and Other Pleasures of Life
If you hear good news from your children out of town, you should be very happy and have nachas. But stay where you are; don’t travel back and forth and waste part of your life as if that’s your whole interest.
As much as you love your family, you should have other interests. You should be interested in your life as a servant of Hashem.
Now, where to draw the line is not so simple. You will need wisdom for that. There is certainly a clear-cut understanding that everyone should enjoy what Hashem gives him and appreciate it. However, nobody should become so enthusiastic that he loses himself in that pleasure and causes himself to forget that his purpose in life is to serve Hashem — even in the matter of nachas from children.
This is true even in the matter of eating. The more you enjoy your food, the more you should thank Hashem for it.
Growth With Action
Making Money
In light of the above, what should your attitude be to making money? As with your other interests, it should not be the central focus of your life.
However, you may put significant effort into making money if it is for the purpose of supporting yourself and fulfilling your obligations to your family and others who are dependent on you.
You are also justified in putting in effort to maintain your property and your wealth, even adding to it. The important thing is that you are doing it as a servant of Hashem. If Hashem gave you wealth, He was saying to you, “You’re My treasurer. I gave you so much wealth; see to it that it doesn’t get lost or dissipated.”
As a loyal treasurer, you are busy investing Hashem’s money and making more and more. That’s fine, as long as you remember it’s not yours. Don’t become overenthusiastic with what you have gained.
This is an important principle, and many people misunderstand it. When the author says “reject This World,” he means, reject all the things that people become intoxicated about.
Understanding Chovos Halevavos — Love of the World
Chovos Halevavos said above that a person “should remove his love of the world and his desire for it from his heart, and he should exchange it for the love of Hashem.”
What does this mean in light of what we have said here? All the pleasures and enthusiasms that people invest their energies in should be exchanged for a nobler version. They should use the same things as a tool to love Hashem, Who gave all this to you out of kindness.
So let’s say a man walks in the street and he sees it is a beautiful day, the wind is blowing, the sun is shining, all of nature is pleasant and happy — certainly he should enjoy it and thank Hashem for it.
He should thank Hashem for the pleasure that sunlight gives him. This means he should remember the blessing,³²⁵ Blessed are You, Hashem, Who fashions the luminaries.
He should thank Hashem for the pleasure of the wind while thinking of the words,³²⁶ He makes the wind blow and He makes the rain fall.
You have to appreciate everything that Hashem created. But there are people who get lost in their enthusiasm for nature. They yearn to go out in the woods and explore the mountains. They love nature so much, they spend days or sometimes weeks traveling.
These people are not servants of Hashem; they are slaves of gashmius (materialism).

A Jew  must understand that there are other needy people in the world. ( This is reference besides the charity that he was already given to the causes that are dear to him, idea is Reb. Mosha is trying to say that obligation of giving never stops as long as one takes for himself like laws of challa)
But we see that there are two types of obligations that the Torah established.
One of these is an obligation from income.
The other is not taken from income; it is not given from what he earns.
From the grain he gathers for his own needs.
He must reserve for his own sustenance.
From the grain he gathers for his needs.
He should recognize that just as Hashem provided for him.
But there is another obligation called challah.
In the world there are others who also have needs.
He must know that needy people exist in the world.
There are circumstances in which he is not obligated to give challah.
We know that a person is obligated to give both from what comes in and from what he spends.
Do you have what to eat? You are required to give away a portion to those in need.
But someone who has already given money from his income might think he is exempt from this.
We tell him that he is still not free from obligation.
He takes a portion from what he needs to sustain himself.
When an expense arises that requires his resources.
And he must share and give a portion to the poor or to the Kohanim.
The same principle applies to the consequences for someone who fails to give.
A good house, a fine car, an expense beyond what was planned, more than he ever imagined.
And he needs it for his necessities, whether for the year or for a moment, and sometimes a large expense appears.
And sometimes he even goes into debt for it; even then, he must immediately remember the poor.
This is the purpose of challah, which we learn from the current sedrah read on Shabbos.
When you spend more than you planned or set aside for the week or the month.
The Torah promises that these blessings will come אל בתיכם — into your home.
The reward mentioned for challah by the Navi in the Haftarah of Emor is even greater than the reward for giving from income, terumos, and maasros.
And even though you have given from what comes in, you must also give from your grain.
You must immediately think of the poor person who lacks for his own needs.
The Torah states that if someone neglects this obligation, there are various types of famine that will come into the world, including a רעב של כליה — famine of destruction — for challah.
Because you fail to give from what you spend, you are required also to give from your expenditures.
That is why this is more severe: the reward for someone who gives from what he spends, which he feels and senses, is greater.
You are paying, and you must give a larger portion to another from it, because it is felt as an expense.
But להניח ברכה אל תוך ביתך — to bring blessing into your home — means that it is set aside to remain as security.
When a person feels that he must give to the poor even though he has already given from what comes in.
This is more than a casual act; it is a significant blessing.
It is set aside so that it is brought into your home.
ראשית עריסותיכם תתנו לכהן להניח ברכה אל תוך ביתך — the first of your dough give challah to the Kohen to bring blessing into your home.
The same principle applies to the consequences for someone who does not give

(פסוק והביאור)
כ״ה. נַעַר הָיִיתִי גַּם זָקַנְתִּי —
וְלֹא רָאִיתִי צַדִּיק נֶעֱזָב, וְזַרְעוֹ מְבַקֵּשׁ לָחֶם.

25. “I have been a youth and also aged.”
Ibn Ezra and Radak attribute this statement to the Psalmist, who declares, “After experiencing all phases of life, from beginning to end, I am equipped to make the following observation.”
However, the Talmud (Yerushalmi 16b, quoted by Rashi) maintains that such a sweeping observation can be made only by one who can evaluate all of human history, not just one short lifetime. Accordingly, this observation was made by the chief of all angels, who is called שַׂר הָעוֹלָם, Officer of the World.
“But I have not seen a righteous man forsaken.”
Simply, this means he will not lack the barest essentials of life, such as food and clothing. Midrashically, Hashem does not forsake His people and leave them without righteous people. Every generation will have thirty righteous individuals
(Tanchuma, Parashas Mikeitz).
The verse does not say that no righteous man would ever be reduced to poverty; were that the case, it would equate poverty with wickedness — a patent falsehood. Rather, the verse means that no righteous person will be forsaken even if he must beg alms for his sustenance. Since Jews are obligated to help one another, it is no disgrace for one to require the help of another (R’ Hirsch). Below is from Radak:

נַעַר הָיִיתִי וְגַם זָקַנְתִּי,
וְלֹא רָאִיתִי צַדִּיק נֶעֱזָב,
וְזַרְעוֹ מְבַקֵּשׁ לָחֶם.
ורעו מבקש לחם: ולא דרשו שיבקש לחם על הפתחים. ורעו הבנים הקטנים שהניח אחריו לא יעזבם האל. יחברם, כוונתו, אף על פי שיבוא לו חסרון לא יבוא לו חסרון רע כמו שיבוא לרשע. ועוד: הוא שיחסר לו לחם ושמלה, וכך בקש יעקב אבינו (בראשית כח כ): ונתן לי לחם לאכול ובגד ללבוש, כלומר כדי חיותי לבד. ואמר לו האל, יחבר (שם טו): כי לא אעזבך; נראה כי מי שיחסר אלה נקרא נעזב.

Full Transcript of a 1981 Speech
A person must understand that there are other needy people in the world besides himself. The Torah established two kinds of obligations. One obligation is to give from what comes in — from income, from profit, from grain. But that is not enough. There is also an obligation to give from what a person spends.
When a man gathers grain for his own needs, he must recognize that just as Hashem provided for him, there are others in the world who also require provision. This is why the Torah commands תרומות ומעשרות, and beyond that, חלה.
A person might say: “I already gave from my income. I already separated maaser.” We answer him: from what came in — yes. But you are still obligated to give from what you spend. Each act of spending creates a renewed obligation. A person cannot exempt himself by saying that he already gave once. Every expense requires a new calculation and a renewed responsibility.
This is why חלה is unique. When bread is baked for one’s household, when money is spent for one’s own table, from that very act a portion must be separated. Not just once a year, and not only from surplus, but again and again, from the very act of spending.
Sometimes a person will say: “But I already gave money.” The Torah teaches him that he is not free from this obligation. Even if he gave from his income, he must still give from his grain, from his dough, from his expenses.
This type of giving is sharper and more difficult, because it is felt. It touches a person at the moment when he feels the burden of expense. And precisely because he feels it, that is where the Torah promises blessing.
The Navi says:
רֵאשִׁית עֲרִסֹתֵכֶם תִּתְּנוּ לַכֹּהֵן לְהָנִיחַ בְּרָכָה אֶל תּוֹךְ בֵּיתֶךָ (יחזקאל מ״ד:ל׳)
This is not a general blessing. It is a blessing that is brought into the home, to remain there and to stay as security.
And the opposite is also true. Chazal say:
על מעשרין רעבון של בצורת, ועל תרומות רעבון של מהומה, ועל חלה רעבון של כליה (שבת ל״ב ע״ב)
For withholding maasros comes a famine of drought. For withholding terumos comes a famine of confusion. But for withholding challah comes a famine of destruction.
Why is the punishment for challah more severe? Because this is not a failure to give from what one claims he does not yet have. This is a failure to give from what one is actively using and consuming, from what is in his hand at that moment.
A person may spend on a good house, on a fine car, on a large expense he never planned, more than he even dreamed. Sometimes he even goes into debt for it. Yet at that very moment, he must know that just as he has expenses, the poor person also has expenses. From every outlay, a portion belongs to others.
This is the purpose of חלה, which we learn from the parsha that we read. From every spending, something is taken for Hashem, for the kohen, and for the needy.
For this reason, the reward for challah is even greater than the reward for giving from income, for תרומות ומעשרות. Because this giving does not come from surplus. It comes from what a person needs for himself.
This teaching changes how a person understands limits such as one-fifth. The limitation applies to giving from income. But giving from expenditure is not a matter of generosity beyond obligation. It is obligation itself.
Through this system, the Torah trains a person not to live enclosed within himself. Each time he spends, he is reminded that there are others in the world who also have needs. And through this, blessing is brought not only to the world, but into his own home —
לְהָנִיחַ בְּרָכָה אֶל תּוֹךְ בֵּיתֶךָ.

“When a person feels that he must give to the poor even though he has already given from what comes in,”
“This is more than a casual act; it is a significant blessing.”
“It is set aside so that it is brought into your home.”
“ראשית עריסותיכם תתנו לכהן להניח ברכה אל תוך ביתך — ‘The first of your dough, give challah to the Kohen to bring blessing into your home.’”
“The same principle applies to the consequences for someone who does not give.”

The methods of acquiring humility, and the way this is made easier for a person, consist in keeping one’s thought and imagination focused on seven points.
1. Reflect on Human Origin and Physical Reality
A person begins as a drop of semen and blood, later becoming putrid and foul. He is sustained by impure blood in the womb, is born weak and fragile, grows gradually, reaches maturity, then declines into old age and death.
A sage said:
“I wonder how a creature that has passed twice through passageways of urine and blood can become proud and arrogant.”
Reflection on this reality leads naturally to humility, as Scripture states:
“O God, what is man, that You should care about him?”
“Man born of woman…”
“But I am like a worm, not a man.”
“How much less man, a maggot… a worm.”
Summary:
You came from filth, you live by decay, and you end in rot. Pride here is delusion.
2. Reflect on Human Frailty and Suffering
Man is constantly subject to hunger, thirst, heat, cold, illness, misfortune, and anxiety—with no true escape except death. He lacks the intelligence and power to protect himself from these afflictions.
A person who grasps this realizes he is not like a prisoner—he is a prisoner, entirely dependent on his Master’s will.
Scripture says:
“May the cry of the prisoner come before You.”
“Take me out of prison…”
Summary:
You are not in control. You are confined, dependent, and powerless without Divine mercy.
3. Reflect on Death and Bodily Decay
Death comes swiftly. All hopes are cut off. No possessions can be taken along. The body darkens, decays, becomes worm-infested, foul-smelling, and repulsive.
These thoughts humble a person and prevent arrogance, as Scripture says:
“Forget about man, whose breath is in his nostrils.”
“Human beings are mere breath… they weigh less than a breath.”
Summary:
Your beauty, success, and status expire quickly—and end in decomposition.
4. Reflect on One’s Obligation and Failure Before God
A person must consider the immense kindness God bestows upon him and how poorly he repays it—through neglect, incomplete observance, and excuses that will not stand on the Day of Reckoning.
On that day, arrogance is crushed, as Scripture warns:
“The day is coming, burning like an oven…”
“Who can endure the day of His coming?”
Summary:
You owe everything. You have paid back little. Judgment is unavoidable.
5. Contemplate the Greatness of the Creator
One acquires humility by contemplating the immense power of the Creator and comparing oneself to the universe: mankind, the earth, the heavens, and the cosmic order.
Prophets, sages, angels—all collapse in awe before Him. Even angels prostrate themselves before God.
Scripture states:
“How great are Your works, O God.”
“All the nations are as nothing before Him.”
“What is man that You should be mindful of him?”
Summary:
Against infinity, you are negligible. Awareness of scale destroys arrogance.
6. Study the Fate of the Proud and the Humble
By reading the words of the prophets, one sees that pride leads to destruction, while humility brings Divine closeness and protection.
Scripture teaches:
“The prideful eyes of man will be lowered.”
“God strengthens the humble.”
“Before disaster comes arrogance.”
Summary:
Pride ends badly. Always. History is consistent on this point.
7. Observe the Rise and Fall of Nations and People
Kingdoms vanish. Governments collapse. People are displaced. One nation replaces another. In the end, all die.
As Scripture says:
“Like sheep they are herded to the grave.”
Summary:
Power, wealth, and dominance are temporary illusions. Death levels everything.
Final Bottom Line
Humility is not a personality trait—it is clarity.
Anyone who thinks straight about origin, weakness, death, obligation, Divine greatness, history, and judgment cannot remain arrogant.
Arrogance survives only where memory is short and imagination is dishonest.

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.