Daf Yomi Kesubos 66
Our shul is over a hundred years old but daily minyan is still a struggle. I’ve tried every trick in the book to make it
happen, but it still seems to be an uphill battle. Texting generally seems to work but people
will often only see my SMS hours later.
“Rabbi, did you get the minyan?”
they’ll ask.
And my standard answer is, “We ALWAYS get it . . .
eventually!”
Abe recently retired and so I thought he might be amenable
to coming to minyan more regularly.
“Abe, how about you start coming every morning?” I asked
him.
“Oh, Rabbi,” he replied, “Why don’t you ask other
people? I already come twice a
week. I’m doing much better than most of
the congregation!”
Rabban Yochanan ben
Zakai was once leaving Jerusalem on a donkey, followed by his students. He noticed a young maiden who was sifting
barley from the local Arabs’ animals’ manure.
As soon as she saw
him, she covered her hair, rose before him and said, “Rebbe, provide for me!”
“Whose daughter are
you?” he responded.
“My father was
Nakdimon ben Gurion,” was her reply.
Surprised, he asked
her, “What happened to your father’s wealth?”
“Tis not for naught
that they recite the following in Jerusalem,” said the maiden, “The salt of
money is kindness.” (Rashi explains: If
you want to maintain your wealth, you must be charitable.)
The Gemara asks: But was Nakdimon ben Gurion not charitable? Indeed it was taught in a Beraisa: They said
about Nakdimon ben Gurion that when he left home for the study hall, they would
roll out the red carpet. And poor people
would follow him and then they were able to roll it up and gather it for
themselves!
The Gemara answers: He
did it for his own honour. Or perhaps he did not give as much as he could have,
as they say, ‘According to the strength of the camel is the load.’
Many people’s first question when asked for tzedakah contributions is: What are
other people giving? And they are proud
if they are able to match other top givers.
Nakdimon ben Gurion not only matched other top givers, but he was always
on the top of the synagogue capital campaign list. But that wasn’t good enough – true, he was
the top giver, but even those magnificent contributions were just a drop in the
bucket for him. And when he gave, he always had the honour of
the top spot, without ever feeling the pinch of giving till it hurts.
What do they mean when they say, ‘According to the strength
of the camel is the load’? Nakdimon
compared himself to other givers. He
took pride in the fact that he was the biggest contributor. But he had much more and so he should have
given much more. In life, there is only
one person in your race: You. Once you
start comparing yourself to others, you’ve gone to run a different race than
G-d intended you to run. One hundred
dollars that your neighbour gives to the campaign may be a more generous
contribution than your ten thousand dollars.
It all depends how much it hurts and how much you had to struggle with
your inclination to open your wallet.
And the same is true of all mitzvos. Never
compare yourself to anyone else. It
doesn’t matter how often they’re attending the daily minyan; they’re not running your race. It doesn’t matter how many Shabbos guests
they’re inviting; they’re not running your race.
The great Chasidic master, Reb Zushe of Anipolye, famously
related: After 120, when I reach the Heavenly court, they won’t ask me ‘Why
weren’t you as great as Avraham Avinu? Why weren’t you as great as Moshe
Rabbeinu?’ No, they will ask me, ‘Were
you as great as Zushe had the potential to be?’
Your neighbour’s level of religious commitment doesn’t make
any difference to your service of Heaven.
There is only one person running your race: You. And
only you know if you’re running your best race.
May you merit never looking over your shoulder at anyone else, and running
your best race through life!
