Introduction

It would be difficult to imagine a model of a well lived life that did not include kindness at its heart and from which all else emanates. The most noble of people throughout time have suggested that the goal of life is to make a difference, to be of service, and to give back. Certainly, one can make the case that kindness is central to the Jewish project. In fact, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik writes¹ that the central mitzvah of the 613 mitzvot is that of following the ways of God (imitatio Dei).

The Rav’s² brother, Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik, taught³ that mitzvot such as love your neighbor and walk in His ways are in the realm of hovot halevavot (duties of the heart); the obligation is to internalize love of one’s neighbor and develop character traits modeled for us by God’s actions, such as mercy and compassion. 

The Talmud teaches⁴ that it is better to jump into a burning hot furnace than shame another. Tosafot here teaches⁵ that shaming another is one of the three cardinal sins for which one must be ready to give up their life, as it is in a sense akin to murder.⁶ Living with kindness, then, means avoiding behaviors that hurt others whenever possible.

Even more so, it means proactively supporting others. Consider the value of sharing. Some rabbis came to consider a lack of sharing to be "middat Sedom" (a trait of the most wicked types of people, such as those of Sodom). The rabbis were even willing to dismiss property rights and use force to ensure that people shared with one another. According to the Rosh,⁷ We force them to distance themselves from evil traits and to act with generosity towards their fellow when they would not lose anything by doing so.⁸ Rabbi David Polsky writes:

Commentary by Rabbi Jacob Joshua Falk (

18

th century Poland/Germany) illustrates that these compulsions against sodomy limit property rights. He explains that, really, whether or not an owner loses is much less significant than another person gaining from them. The very fact that the squatter benefits from the owner’s property would be enough to generate an obligation to pay, whether or not the owner suffers a loss because of it. However, he explains, not wanting to help others even when we don’t lose anything from it is a Sodomite tendency. We therefore constrain the owner’s typical legal rights so as not to reinforce their sodomy.⁹ In stark contrast to the Sodomite view of property rights as sacrosanct, the rabbinic principle of kofin al middat Sedom [dispensing with property rights, as opposed to the Sodomite view] suggests that halakhah views property rights as merely contingent.¹⁰

Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein writes:¹¹

Kofin al middat Sedom absolutely contradicts the prevailing notion that a person is the supreme ruler over [their] property. . .and that as long as [they do] not cause others direct damage, [they] can do with [their] property as [they please]. . . Property rights are "liable to be set aside in the face of other moral factors—including the welfare of others. 

Indeed, sometimes, governments and societies need to compel goodness. But this is, of course, not the ideal. The ideal society is one in which people live their lives eager, almost begging, to do good.

In this book, we will share 40 lessons, each with its own unique theme. The common thread to the series is living with deeper kindness. How can the Jewish tradition inspire us to live with deeper love and compassion? How can Jewish pearls of wisdom inform how we care for one another?

The book contains five sections: Kindness Toward Specific Individuals; Kindness Toward All Individuals; Kindness Through Restraint; Care for Our Environment; and Self-Improvement as a Catalyst for Kindness to Others. The first two sections address proactive kindness towards our fellow humans; the third addresses kindness by avoiding hurting others; the fourth, kindness towards all of God’s creations, including animals and nature, as kindness cannot be only people-directed; the fifth serves as a starting point and catalyst for all of the above, for without first being kind to ourselves and improving our general character we cannot be truly kind towards others.

Our argument is not only that God wants us to live with kindness and that Torah necessitates it, but that kindness has the greatest chance of bringing happiness and meaning to our lives. When I was privileged to donate a kidney, many people told me they thought that it was a selfless thing to do. But while that’s true, in all honesty, it brough me enormous joy and meaning. I didn’t donate for myself, but I must admit that I feel I gained more than I gave.

Serving the dead (e.g., providing for a dignified burial) is considered to be the ultimate chesed shel emet,¹² the highest level of kindness, since the deceased cannot repay the giver of kindness.¹³ But, perhaps, this very fact also makes such an act even more rewarding. A truly virtuous person will indeed find meaning in it. A well-balanced individual is one whose sense of joy is aligned with their moments of living virtuously.

We will each need to find new and creative ways to give and to trust that this will in turn add meaning to our lives. The challenge is to figure out what to do and when. We also must ponder what specific traits of kindness we want to imbue in our children. For example, is empathy the highest manifestation of being kind? While we may wish that every person be empathetic, it may not be the most important measure of kindness. Some may be deeply empathetic but not channel that compassion and care into behaviors that help others. Others may not be as empathetic but hold other ethical principles that lead them to being really kind to others.

In Judaism, what matters most is that we actually help. Imagine a doctor or nurse who is a bit emotionally cold but goes above and beyond in service. Now imagine another doctor or nurse who is very warm and friendly and emotionally present but doesn’t go above and beyond in care.

Brian Goldman writes:

If lack of empathy is the problem, what is the solution? In his

2017

book, Against Empathy: The Case for Rational Compassion, Yale professor Paul Bloom argues that empathy based on emotion motivates people to help in ways that are counterproductive. He writes that our brains are programmed to enable us to empathize with one person at a time, which dooms us to ignore the needs of many. Bloom says that whom we empathize with is biased in favour of those who look and act like us. . . Instead of empathy, Bloom advocates for what he calls rational compassion, dispensing with emotional involvement in favor of helping others based on an objective calculation of costs, benefits, and risks.¹⁴

Do we want to raise our children to make moral decisions emotionally or cognitively? And what tools will they use to navigate complex moral dilemmas? To whom will they feel most obligated to show kindness, and how will they navigate the boundaries of their responsibility?

We will learn through experience, and as addressed in this book, that the complexity of living with kindness consistently and thoughtfully sometimes requires stepping back. Batya Gallant writes:

The Torah advocates wholeness, not perfection, and trains us in middas hachesed, an inclusive attitude toward each element of God’s creation. In creating myself as a ba’al chesed, this dual action requires extending myself to other people (expansion), and then retreating (contraction) to self-nurture when necessary.¹⁵

Our project is central to the Torah.

In the Five Books of Moses, the word chesed (kindness) appears

248

times. Generosity, compassion, grace, patience, and love are all held up as divine qualities we are meant to embody in our own lives.¹⁶

Abraham used his own kindness to teach people around him about God’s kindness.¹⁷ And in return, God’s kindness informs and strengthens our own commitment to kindness. One fascinating midrash describes how humans show preference to some people over others, while God is egalitarian:¹⁸

And Tzelofhad’s daughters drew near:¹⁹ When Tzelofhad’s daughters heard that the land would be divided according to the tribes—to males and not to females—they all gathered with each other for advice. They said, The goodness of God is not like the goodness of flesh and blood. Flesh and blood show greater goodness to males than to females, but the One-Who-Spoke-the-World-into-Being is not so, but is good to all, as it is said. . . ‘The Lord is good to all and shows kindness to all creatures.’ ²⁰

We are not God and never will be. But we can spend our lives seeking to emulate the most noble model imaginable. It is my deep hope and prayer that this book will reinforce each of our commitments to be just, kind individuals, to do what we can, wherever we are, whoever we are, to bring light to darkness, to bring hope where there is despair, and to bring repair where this brokenness.

1

. Polsky, Reflections of the Amidah,

2

. The Rav is an honorific used exclusively for Rabbi Soloveitchik.

3

. Soloveichik, Aharon Od Yosef Yisrael Beni Hai,

4

4

. Babylonian Talmud, Sotah

10

b

5

. Tosafot’s (the Tosafists’) commentary on Babylonian Talmud, Sotah

10

b

6

. Others do not read the Talmud literally and do not believe that one must die before shaming another, since it is not listed (in Babylonian Talmud, Pesachim

25

a) as one of the cardinal sins for which one must die. See Rabbi Binyamin Tabory, The Weekly Mitzva, p.

15

.

7

. Rosh is an acronym for Rabbeinu Asher,

13

th century France/Spain

8

. Ben Yechiel, Teshuvot HaRosh,

97

:

2

9

. Falk, Penei Yehoshua, Bava Kama

20

a

10

. Rabbi David Polsky in his commentary on Parshat Vayera

11

. Lichtenstein, "Alei Etzion

16

: Kofin Al Middat Sedom: Compulsory Altruism?"

12

. Chesed shel emet literally means kindness of truth or true kindness.

13

. Rashi on Genesis,

47

:

29

14

. Goldman, A Question of Kindness,

7

15

. Gallant, Stages of Spiritual Growth,

63

16

. Morinis, With Heart in Mind,

4

–

5

17

. Babylonian Talmud, Sotah

10

a-–

0

b

18

. Midrash Sifri, Bemidbar #

133

19

. Numbers

27

:

1

20

. Psalms

145

:

9

#1

Bikkur Cholim, Visiting the Sick

The first case that we learn of in the Torah of the mitzvah of bikkur cholim²¹ (visiting the sick) occurs in Genesis 18:1.

God appeared to [Avraham] in the plains of Mamre; he was sitting in the doorway of his tent at the heat of the day. He raised his eyes and saw that there were three men standing by him. . .

Rashi teaches²² that God was visiting Avraham at the opening of his tent in the plains of Mamre because Avraham was healing from his circumcision.²³

Rabbi Hama ben Rabbi Hanina, in the Talmud, also uses this event as the example for why we should, indeed why we must, visit the sick.²⁴ He connects this story in the Torah to another Torah mandate: You shall walk after the Lord, your God.²⁵ Similarly, Rav Yosef taught²⁶ that another verse, You shall show them the path that they should take,²⁷ means that we must engage in acts of lovingkindness, specifically including visiting the sick.²⁸

So, for most Torah commentators, bikkur cholim is not one of the specific 613 biblical mitzvot,²⁹ but is included in the general mitzvah of chessed (kindness) as well as that of emulating the Divine. Sefer Mitzvot Katan,³⁰ however, as well as Behag,³¹ specifically included bikkur cholim as one of the 613.³²

There is a powerful story in the Talmud³³ about a student who became sick and no one visited him. Then his teacher Rabbi Akiva visited the student and helped him with some of his needs. As Rabbi Akiva was leaving, his student in recovery screamed out to Rabbi Akiva: You have saved my life. Shook from this pronouncement, Rabbi Akiva taught: Anyone who does not visit the sick is akin to a murderer.

Rambam (Maimonides) seems to be influenced by this story, in that he teaches not only the positive mitzvah to care for the sick but also issues a harsh warning against those who ignore their needs.

Bikkur cholim is a mitzvah that is obligatory upon all. Even people of higher stature are required to visit people of lower stature. Numerous visits daily should be made as long as this does not inconvenience the patient. Whoever visits the sick is considered to have taken away part of the illness, and whoever does not visit is akin to a murderer.³⁴

We live in a world of complex human relationships and power dynamics. One might have mistakenly thought that a poor person should visit a rich person who is sick but not vice versa, or that an adult should visit their elderly parent who is sick but not vice versa, or that a student should visit their teacher who is sick but not vice versa. Rambam, based on Rabbi Akiva’s story, reminds us that there is no power status when caring for the sick. We are all frail flesh and bones and need care, no matter who we are. It is for this reason that in the Mi Shebeirach prayer for the sick, honorifics and titles are customarily omitted when inserting the patient’s name. We are all on the same playing field when we fall ill.

The rabbis taught:

Rabbi Judah ben Shila said in Rav Assi’s name [who in turn said it] in R. Yohanan’s name: There are six things, the fruit of which a person eats in this world, while the principal remains for them for the world to come. They are: hospitality to wayfarers, visiting the sick, meditation in prayer, early attendance at the Beit Hamidrash (study hall), rearing one’s children to the study of the Torah, and judging one’s neighbor in the scale of merit.³⁵

The rabbis further taught that there is no measure for this mitzvah, given its importance:

There is no measure for visiting the sick. What is meant by, ‘there is no measure for visiting the sick?’ R. Joseph thought to explain it: its reward is unlimited. Said Abaye to him: Is there a definite measure of reward for any precept? For we learnt: Be as heedful of a light precept as of a serious one, for you know not the grant of reward for precepts! But Abaye explained it: Even a great person must visit a humble one. Raba said: [One must visit] even a hundred times a day.³⁶

It is easy when one is healthy to forget the pain and isolation involved with sickness. The Talmudic rabbis, in their statements and stories, are doing all they can to never let us forget.

Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote: Is good health a person’s normal condition and sickness an aberration, or is health a deceptive interlude while we wait for something else to go wrong?³⁷ In this simple reformulating of what it means to be sick, Rabbi Kushner reminds us that we all can become ill at any time.

The rabbis even attempt to quantify the impact of our visits to the sick. R. Abba son of R. Hanina said: ‘One who visits a sick person takes away a sixtieth of his pain.’³⁸

Perhaps this attempt to quantify the impact of bikkur cholim was intended to serve as a catalyst for each of us to engage in this mitzvah and not leave it to someone else. Another implication may be that one individual’s visit has a different nature than that of another, and that the patient can thereby benefit from all such visits.

The rabbis taught that we should sit on the floor when visiting the sick.

One who visits the sick must not sit upon the bed, or on a stool or a chair, but must [reverently] robe themself and sit upon the ground, because the Divine Presence rests above an invalid’s bed, as it is written, The Lord sets the Divine self upon the bed of languishing.

This, however, only applies when the ill person is lying on the ground so that a visitor who sits will be higher than them. But if the sick individual is lying on a bed, it is correct to sit on a chair.³⁹

What a profound lesson! Where is God to be found? Among the sick! So we are to sit on the floor in awe of the Divine presence. It can be reasoned further that standing above the sick can be intimidating, and we want to embrace a most humble stance at such a sensitive time.

We should not just check the box after showing up for a brief visit. Rather, we should also try to proactively assist the sick. The Aruch HaShulchan writes:

The essential part of the commandment to visit the sick is to investigate the needs of the patient and to do whatever they require, as is stated in the Talmud⁴⁰ regarding the student of Rabbi Akiva who became ill. . . And how beautiful it is that in many cities, groups of people—called sleep groups stay with sick people all night long and look after their needs. During the day, in general, most of the patient’s needs are met by relatives, but at night, as much as they wish to stay awake, the relatives are exhausted from working all day and caring for the patient. . .⁴¹

The rabbis taught that in addition to visiting the sick and healing the sick that we should pray for the sick.

Rav Shisha the son of Rav Idi said: one should not visit a sick person, not in the first three hours of the day nor in the last three hours of the day, so that the visitor should not give up on praying for God’s mercy. The first three hours, a sick person’s mind is at ease, the last three hours, illness becomes more intense.⁴²

Some of us may hold a theology where we believe praying for the sick may be a way to call upon the omnipotent Divine to engage in healing. But for other, praying for the sick is less a call to God and is more a call to community to support. We mention the names of the sick in our community to remind us of our responsibility and collective role to do our part.

Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook offers a unique commentary on an important Talmudic passage which he specifically relates to the mitzvah of visiting the sick.

Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Kook offers yet another model for understanding the absence of formal commandments dealing with certain ethical issues.⁴³ Rav Kook notes that, although in general, Jewish law maintains that greater is one who is commanded than one who acts from the spirit of volunteerism,⁴⁴ this principle applies only to ritual laws. With regard to the ethical realm, it is preferable that ethical behavior be a natural outgrowth of an awareness of right and wrong, rather than based on a divine command. Imagine if someone visits the sick, helps the needs, or comforts mourners simply because God commanded him to do so. . . Ironically, it is when we act ethically, based on a profound respect for our fellow man—and not based on a divine command—that we actually experience an authentic interaction with God and His ideals.⁴⁵

Yes, there is a mitzvah to visit the sick. Yes, we want to cultivate our spiritual orientation toward striving to be Godly. But at the end of the day, the real spiritual revolution is about cultivating empathy and to truly love others and care for them simply because we care for them. Our intentions matter.

The story is told about Rabbi Aryeh Levin, known as the Tzaddik of Jerusalem, who once accompanied his wife to the doctor. When the doctor asked about the nature of the visit, Rav Levin responded, Our toe hurts.

Rav Levin so strongly identified with the pain of his wife that he referred to it as our foot.  This is an example of true, empathetic bikkur cholim.

On the other hand, the rabbis were far more concerned that the right things happened and that people are taken care of than about the purity of our motives. For example, they taught:

If a person says, ‘I am giving this coin to charity so that my [sick] child will live,’ or ‘so that I will make it into the World-to-Come,’ he is completely righteous.⁴⁶

Humans can strive to be like angels but we are not angels and our motives can never be totally selfless. Doing good for good, albeit imperfect reasons is to be expected.

Because of how large a demand one’s sickness places upon the community and on society, and because of the sanctity of life, we must do all we can to preserve our own health. This is so important that Rambam goes so far as to suggest that our sleep is itself a mitzvah.

If a person sleeps in order to allow his mind to rest and to give rest to his body so that he should not become sick and unable to serve God because of illness, in this case his very sleep is service of God.⁴⁷

A colleague of mine shared the following story. Every Friday, while serving as a hospital chaplain intern, he would visit an elderly woman who had a prolonged hospital stay. Each week, at the conclusion of the visit, the woman would say, It was nice seeing you, Rabbi. And each week the rabbi followed with I’ll see you next week. One week, though, she ended the visit by saying, It has been nice seeing you, Rabbi. The difference in expression is so nuanced that the rabbi didn’t notice it. When he responded with the usual I’ll see you next week, she in turn stated: Rabbi, you didn’t hear what I said. I didn’t say ‘It was nice seeing you’ as I always do; I said ‘It’s been nice seeing you.’ I won’t be seeing you anymore.

When my colleague asked her if she wished to explain, he was taken a bit aback when she added that she was going to die that afternoon. She explained that until then she wasn’t ready to die yet, but now she was ready. At that point, the rabbi leaned over, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and told her that it had been nice seeing her too and that he wished her well on her journey to the next world. The woman passed away later that afternoon.

On a personal note, I recall my time in a hospital after a major surgery and how strengthening the visits were for my spirits and for my healing. In particular, one stranger (a chassidic rabbi who had undergone the same procedure that I had) offered to sleep the night on the couch next to my bed. Waking up and seeing him there helped me to feel less alone. Not only was he physically with me but he was with me in understanding what I was feeling based upon his own experiences. I’ll never forget him.

Life is short, but life is equally sacred. We must do all we can to save life and to preserve life. Visiting the sick is so important not only because of the abstract value of life, but also because of the specific dignity of the one who is suffering. One cannot measure the healing benefit that bikkur cholim brings to the sick. May we be united together in sickness of body, mind, or spirit, as well as in health.

21

. The term bikkur literally means inspecting or checking in. Regarding bikkur cholim, then, it implies checking in on the sick to see how they are faring.

22

. Rashi on Genesis

18

:

1

23

. Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia

76

b

24

. Babylonian Talmud, Sotah

14

a

25

. Deuteronomy

13

:

5

26

. Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia

30

b. Also see BT Bava Kama

99

b–

100

a

27

. Exodus

18

:

20

28

. Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia

30

b.

29

. See Rambam, who argues that general acts of kindness that are not explicitly included in the

613

mitzvot are not biblical commandments but rabbinic commandments (Mishneh Torah, Sefer Hamitzvot, principle

1

). They are based not only on the principle of emulating God (Deuteronomy

28

:

9

), but also You shall love your neighbor as yourself (Leviticus

19

:

18

).

30

. Sefer Mitzvot Katan, perhaps better known by its acronym Semak, was authored by Rabbi Yitzchak of Korbeil, a French Tosafist.

31

. Behag is the acronym for Ba’al Halachot Gedolot, authorship unknown.

32

. Tabory, The Weekly Mitzvah,

14

.

33

. Babylonian Talmud, Nedarim

40

a

34

. Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Avelut

14

:

4

35

. Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat

127

a

36

. Babylonian Talmud, Nedarim

39

b-

41

a

37

. Kushner, Who Needs God,

26

38

. Kushner, Who Needs God,

26

39

. Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah

335

:

3

40

. Babylonian Talmud, Nedarim

40

a

41

. Aruch HaShulchan, Yoreh De’ah

335

:

3

42

. Babylonian Talmud, Nedarim

40

a. Also see Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah

335

:

4

43

. Kook, Iggerot HaRe’aya

1

:

89

44

. Babylonian Talmud, Bava Kama

87

a

45

. Silverstein, Jewish Law as a Journey,

209

–

210

46

. Babylonian Talmud, Pesachim

8

a–b

47

. Mishneh Torah, Hilchot De’ot

3

:

3

#2

Kibbud Av Va’Eim, Honoring One’s Parents

We often think, as children, that the goalis independence but a touching story reminds us of the role our parents can play for us.

A little boy was struggling to lift a heavy stone but could not budge it. The boy’s father, who happened to be watching, said to his son, Are you using all your strength?

Yes, I am, the boy said with irritation.

No, you’re not, the father answered. You have not asked me to help you."⁴⁸

I recall hearing Jane Goodall speak and she told the group about her mother. She said she was once asked if she was scared to move, as a very young woman, into a tent in the jungle and sleep with leopards, gorillas, centipedes, and snakes unaware of how to study the animal kingdom, let alone survive within it. She said the only reason she wasn’t terrified was because her mother came with her to protect her. Because her mother entered the wilderness with her, she said, she was able to ultimately dedicate her life to the work of conservation. Indeed, how many mothers, and fathers, have changed the world by supporting the dreams of their children, at all costs?

For those of us who were fortunate, our parents, even with all of their inevitable human faults, were there to help us carry heavy loads in our lives. It is something we can never forget.

The Torah commands us to both honor our father and mother⁴⁹ and revere them.⁵⁰

While at first glance the two verses cited above seem to be identical, there are several significant differences between them. In the first, the one we are most familiar with as it is found in the Ten Commandments, we are told: Kabeid et avicha v’et imecha (Honor your father and mother). In the second we find: Ish imo v’aviv tira’u (A person should revere their mother and father). Notice the switch in the order here. Regarding honor, the father is written first; regarding reverence, it is the mother who is mentioned first.

The Talmud explains that a child (perhaps an adult child as well) would be more inclined to show honor, displaying acts of love, to one’s mother, the more loving parent. Therefore, the father is placed first, to indicate that he is of equal, not lesser, importance when it comes to honor. The converse is true regarding reverence: One would be more inclined to revere one’s father, and therefore the mother is placed first.

As the two different verses essentially convey the same command, the Talmud further focuses on the differences between the two actions describing how one must treat their parents. Kibbud (honor) refers to what one must proactively do for one’s parents, i.e., serve them and take care of them. Yirah (reverence) refers to what one must refrain from doing or saying to one’s parents, i.e., not sitting in a parent’s chair. Another example recorded in the Talmud is for a child to simply not respond if a parent goes so far as to throw his wallet into the river. While very difficult for a child to not react in such a situation, this example of the Talmud does make it clear to us the value we must all strive to place on reverence for our parents.

Regarding not sitting in a parent’s chair, a beautiful thought is shared in the name of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik⁵¹. Upon taking leave of a house of mourning, one traditionally recites: HaMakom yenacheim etchem b’toch she’ar aveilei Tziyon viYerushalayim (May the Omnipresent One comfort you among all mourners of Zion and Jerusalem). Rabbi Soloveitchik suggests that the reference to God as HaMakom at this juncture (the word hamakom literally meaning the place) calls to mind the command to not sit in one’s parents makom. He explains that this is true while a parent is alive. As long as a parent is living, it is forbidden to sit in their seat.