Every year, the middle school students at the Rockowitz Yeshiva Day School participated in chesed clubs. Each club lasted for two months, beginning and ending with a chesed trip. Before choosing their clubs, students listened to presentations from each teacher about his or her club. Afterwards, the middle schoolers filled out a form to request specific clubs; they had to give their top three choices. Students were not guaranteed to get their first choices, but the chesed coordinators did their best to make everyone happy. The clubs rotated by grade, and at this point in the year, it was the six grade’s turn to go.
On Wednesday morning, the clubs were the main topic of conversation among the sixth graders. Most already knew about the clubs from older siblings and they had a pretty good idea of which clubs they did and didn’t want to be in. “I heard that the cemetery cleanup club is awesome because Mr. Owens lets them stop for slurpees on the way home.” “Yeah, but Morah Portnoy’s soup kitchen group always comes back late from trips and they get to miss class.” “I want to be in the club that packs food boxes for charity. I heard you can get away with doing nothing because Mrs. Henderson just leaves everyone there to take a long walk.” “I’ll take any club that doesn’t visit old-age homes. I’ve spent enough time with my great-grandparents already.”
When the time came for the presentations, the students gathered in the auditorium and sat (somewhat) patiently as the teachers described their clubs, one by one. You could tell which teachers wanted as many students or as few students as possible based on their level of energy.
Because most of the sixth graders already “knew” which clubs they would be in, not much attention was paid to the teachers … until the last presentation. For the first time ever, Dr. Herstig, the middle school principal for the last 25 years, walked in to present her own chesed club.
“Good morning,” she said. “I have one last club to offer, for those who can handle it. A local businessman is interested in opening up a new amusement park, and wants to advertise with real reviews of the park. He needs people to come ride the rides, try the food, and play the games. Afterwards, you will be interviewed about how you liked the park, and your answers might end up in a commercial. I know it doesn’t sound like chesed, but I know this person, and he needs people, so you will be doing him a favor. Have a great day!”
Well, you can imagine how the next 10 minutes went in the auditorium. The students were abuzz with excitement about this new club, but something else was in the air—the feel of plotting. Each student who wanted in (meaning, each student) had to figure out what he or she had to do to get into this club. Some thought the best plan was to sign up for the second and third most popular clubs, because everyone who signed up for the least popular clubs (even as second or third choices) was placed in them. Others tried to discourage their friends from signing up by announcing that this club must be a trick, and anyone who signs up is a fool.
Finally, many students used the classic move of only signing up for one club. They hoped that whoever made the decisions wouldn’t want to waste time going back to get their second and third choices, and would just let them into the amusement park club. Exactly 15 students tried this move, which was the exact number of slots available.
When the results were posted on Friday, the group of 15 schemers rejoiced; their trickery worked! They were the ones chosen to carry out this very important act of fun, ahem, kindness. They could not wait for the first Chesed Day, scheduled for the following Thursday.
Throughout the next week, the roller coaster riders walked a little taller and smiled a little brighter at school. The rest of the students spent the week harassing their own chesed club leaders for special things to make up for the loss. “It’s not fair; they get to ride rides. Can we at least get ice cream and pizza on the way back?” “Why do they get to have fun while we put food in boxes?” “Can you ask Dr. Herstig if we can go bowling afterwards?” “Can we have the rest of the day free after we get back to school?” The amusement park trip cast a huge shadow over Chesed Day.
Despite all the complaining, Chesed Day was scheduled as usual, and on Thursday morning the groups lined up to load the buses. When each bus was full and attendance was taken (including the kid who always comes running out at the last second) the buses pulled out of the parking lot.
However, after about 20 minutes, the students on each bus started to notice something strange—all of the buses were still traveling together! Were they all going to the amusement park? Was this color war breakout?
Unfortunately for the students, neither of these options were true. Instead, all the buses pulled into what looked like an abandoned shopping center. Dr. Herstig was already there, and chairs were set up for what looked like an assembly.
The doors opened and the students exited the buses. They were quickly ushered into their seats and could tell from the look on Dr. Hertisg’s face that this was not the time to joke around (or even talk, for that matter). When the last student took his seat—obviously, it was the same kid who almost missed the ride there—Dr. Herstig began to speak. No microphone was necessary, as it was dead silent. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have to say that I am pretty disappointed in you as a group. As I walked through the hallways last Thursday and heard many students discussing which club to choose. I did not hear ONE student give a reason that had to do with kindness.
“I knew I had to teach you a lesson, for which I used the amusement park idea. I apologize for being dishonest, but the way you all acted when presented with this challenge showed me that I was correct. You need to hear the following, so listen closely. Kindness is not about you. It is not to make you feel good or for you to have fun. It’s OK if it does, of course, but that cannot be the focus. When even your kindness becomes selfish, it’s time to change your approach.”
With that, Dr. Herstig pulled a list out of her pocket and recited a completely new list of which students should board which bus. Each bus, now full of students that did not sign up for the same club, went to its original destination. The exception, of course, was the amusement park bus, which simply headed back empty to the bus yard. An important lesson was learned that day, one that stuck with many of these students for years: Sometimes we have to put aside our own wants and needs to properly serve others.
In this week’s parsha, Nadav and Avihu bring an offering to the Mishkan that was not part of the program that Hashem commanded. They are punished for this act with their lives, requiring us to ponder what they did that was so terrible. Although there is no way to know exactly why Hashem was so severe, it is clear from the pesukim that Nadav’s and Avihu’s sin was connected to the fact that they weren’t commanded. As Kohanim, their No. 1 job was to serve Hashem, and serving Hashem first requires putting aside personal desires. Nadav and Avihu did the opposite, choosing what they wanted to do, and it cost them.
Whether doing something for Hashem or for other people, let us try our best not to make it about ourselves.
Yair Daar is the middle school dean of students at Yeshivat He’Atid. He can be reached at [email protected].
