When Hashem taught Moshe the Torah, He gave Moshe time to pause and reflect on what he was told. These are manifested in the breaks and spaces in the Sefer Torah, which are part of our mesorah, the transmission we have about how to write them.
When we experience things, especially times of importance like holidays, it behooves us to pause and reflect on them. We should consider why we saw or heard what we did, and what we can take away from the experience. What does Hashem want us to walk away with and incorporate into our lives? This, incidentally, is the purpose of all of my columns; sharing with you, my dear reader, the thoughts I have on what I’ve witnessed.
Now that Purim is over and Pesach is on the horizon, it would be all too easy to just put Purim in the rearview mirror and speed off to our next destination, instead of internalizing the messages of Purim. Hence, my plan to pause and share a concept I thought about over this past yom tov of Purim.
Someone sent me a joke which I thought was quite humorous. “A yeshiva administrator opened a donation envelope. Inside was a note which read, “In lieu of a donation, I sent mishloach manos to all my friends.” For those who might not get it, I will explain. It won’t be funny anymore, but it will thankfully still make my point.
The humor lies in the switch and surprise, because of the growing movement in recent years to desist from elaborate mishloach manos, and instead to donate to various institutions. Then, your friend receives a note which says, “In lieu of mishloach manos, a donation has been made in your honor to…” The recipient is to appreciate the thriftiness of this, and that the money which would have gone to buy another piece of chocolate or bag of cookies for him to look at before tossing out with the other chametz, is instead going to a noble cause of ruchniyus. In the case of the joke, however, the person opted to send the packages to friends, to the chagrin of the yeshiva administrator, hence the laughter about the v’nahafoch hu, the turnabout.
Now, why have I gone to such long-winded lengths to share this joke with you? Because I think there’s a very crucial nuance not to be missed. We tend to identify with characters in any story, and if you are a yeshiva admin, rosh kollel, or have some other role in which you are responsible for fundraising, you likely won’t find the joke so humorous. That’s because you see yourself in the persona of the one opening the envelope to find disappointment. For those of us who’ve anxiously looked forward to a fun and enjoyable mishloach manos, though, and instead received the disappointing card indicating the “gift in our honor,” we feel like the shoe is on the other foot. Now “they” see what it feels like, and it’s funny.
Of course, most of us, if asked, would see the value of a donation to a school or organization, as opposed to using that money on another pack of coated wafers or potato chips (which, by the way, you can keep in your car and offer to homeless people at the side of the road who are hungry). But there is something disappointing about getting those cards, and I think I pinpointed what it is.
When you give a donation “in my honor” to a charity you wish to support, it seems like you didn’t think about me. While it’s true that the Rambam, among others, said one should rather increase his expenditures on matanos l’evyonim rather than spend on his Purim seudah or mishloach manos, let’s not forget that these mitzvos were instituted for a reason. If a person gave $1,000 to a kollel and then gave out cards saying a donation has been made, he has done a great mitzvah, but he has not fulfilled the mitzvah of mishloach manos. He wanted to support that organization, and used me as an excuse to do it.
Building good feelings between people is very important, but sometimes we can miss that. Just as a child would rather have a lollipop than a cashier’s check because they don’t understand what it is, you can’t expect people to be blown away with your donation to the point where they experience joy. And that’s my takeaway.
The mitzvos between Man and Hashem are fantastic, but they don’t outweigh those between Man and Man. On the contrary, we find many examples where Hashem preferred we take care of each other than try to serve Him. When supporting the poor is less about helping them and more about “serving Hashem through tzedaka,” I think we’ve missed the point.
Purim is supposed to remind us to be NICE to each other, to build relationships amongst people and develop unity. That is what Hashem wants from us, and if He got a letter like that administrator did, instead of being upset, I think it would make Hashem smile with all the cheer of someone opening an exquisite gift, because for Him, that’s exactly what it is.
Jonathan Gewirtz is an inspirational writer and speaker whose work has appeared in publications around the world.
