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Healing the Miser Within

2013; Duke University Press; Volume: 28; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1215/08879982-1957459

2164-0041

Estelle Frankel,

In virtually every large city in the world today there are street corners and squares where the needy and destitute congregate. Holy cities in particular draw many who sense the opportunity present at the sacred sites where openhearted pilgrims flock. When I lived in Jerusalem we used to refer to the street people we encountered as “holy beggars,” for one never knew who among them might be a hidden tzaddik, or an embodiment of Elijah the prophet himself! I have fond memories of one such holy beggar who used to hang out in Jerusalem’s Geula district, where I lived. Upon receiving my meager offering of a spare shekel or two, he would proceed to shower me with abundant blessings for good fortune of every kind. During these exchanges, it was not always clear to me who had given what to whom, but I know that I often left the encounter feeling enriched, sensing that the distinction between giver and receiver had been blurred.Today, living in Berkeley, California, I am faced on a daily basis with the dilemma of when and how much to give to the many homeless individuals who camp out on the streets where I work and play. Some of my friends argue that it is useless to give money directly to these beggars, as one never knows what they will do with the money, and that it is preferable to give generously to the local food banks and homeless shelters. Though I understand their argument, I still feel compelled to give. What I have come to realize is that giving to the needy has much more to do with me than with the recipients’ deservedness.I give because it hurts me on a soul level when I close my heart and walk by a person in need. And, as I have learned from recent research in the fields of immunology and neuroscience, when I give to someone in need, my immune system is fortified and my brain actually gets bathed in oxytocin, the chemical responsible for feelings of pleasure and euphoria! Furthermore, Judaism teaches that when I give freely and generously I am connecting with my divine nature, for the Holy One, by definition, is the Source that continuously gives and sustains all existence and does so regardless of our deservedness.Giving, of course, is not limited to monetary gifts. When we give our time, energy, knowledge, and love to others, we also benefit from what has been called “giver’s high.” Reflecting on the great sense of reward that he felt as a teacher of Torah, Rabbi Akiva once said to his favorite disciple, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, “More than the calf wants to suck, the cow longs to suckle” (Talmud Pesachim 112a). This famous talmudic dictum can be applied more broadly to all relationships in which giving and receiving are central dynamics, for all giving increases the supply available to the giver, just as a cow or a mother’s milk increases as she nurses her offspring. This blurring of the boundary between giver and receiver can also be seen in the book of Ruth, the quintessential biblical tale that portrays a society in which the poor and vulnerable members of society are cared for with dignity through the ancient spiritual practice of leket (gleaning). At the end of her first day of gleaning in Boaz’s fields, Ruth describes her experience to Naomi as something “she did for him” (Ruth 2:19). The midrash reads this phrase as a reversal of the conventional understanding of giver and receiver. Through the act of receiving Boaz’s wheat, Ruth does something for him.For the rabbis, the metaphor of the suckling cow and calf also served as a symbol of the relationship between the Creator and creation, suggesting how much God longs to give to us if only we can receive. Giving and receiving are at the heart of kabbalistic doctrine, hence it is no great surprise that the esoteric spiritual tradition of Judaism is called Kabbalah, which literally means “receiving.” According to Kabbalah, our purpose as created beings is to receive the divine gift of life.R. Isaac Luria describes creation as originating in a divine yearning to give to and love an Other. Out of a divine outburst of love, the worlds and all their multitudinous forms were created to serve as vessels capable of receiving and housing the boundless light of Ein Sof. These vessels, or Sephirot, are described as a series of ten divine potencies or energies that receive and, in turn, give their light to the Sephirot that follow them on the kabbalistic tree of life. This great chain of being represents both God’s innermost life and the very structure of the universe and all its contents. Every person, say the Hasidic masters, is a world in miniature, and so these very same divine potencies exist within each of us as our capacities to receive, hold, and also give of the divine bounty, or shefa, that flows through us. Through our good deeds and generosity, we enable this shefa to flow unimpeded through all the worlds, bringing blessing, harmony, and abundance into our lives. Any block in our capacity to give and receive love can block that flow.While this kabbalistic doctrine provides a useful model for how we can ideally participate in the divine dance of giving and receiving, not everyone is blessed with the necessary tools. Those whose emotional needs were not adequately met during childhood may find it difficult, as adults, to give and receive freely with friends and intimates. In the best of circumstances, when a child receives what the psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott referred to as “good-enough” parenting, the child can slowly internalize a basic sense of goodness and self-worth, experience gratitude and, in turn, take joy in giving and receiving. It is the repeated experience of receiving from and being received by one’s caretakers that enables a child to master these capacities. The Hebrew term for gratitude, hakarat hatov, literally means recognition of the good. Recognizing the good one has received from others is indeed the force that inspires gratitude and the desire to give back.As a therapist and spiritual director, I work with many individuals whose needs for emotional recognition were not met in childhood and who, as a result, are unable to either give or receive freely. We often think that “receiving” should be no problem whatsoever, yet this is not always the case. Many of us have real hang-ups when it comes to receiving and prefer to stay on the giving end of relationships so as to avoid bumping up against our own feelings of unworthiness or our discomfort when it comes to relying on others. For some of us, the indebtedness we experience when others give to us is simply unbearable. We just don’t feel entitled to having our needs met. On the other end of the spectrum are those who become narcissistically self-involved and over-entitled as a response to emotional deprivation. These individuals are typically unable to recognize the needs of others, and they expect others to make it up to them. And though they are constantly taking from others, they are rarely able to actually take in and receive what is given to them. No matter how much they have, they are never satisfied, so they hold on to what is theirs in a miserly fashion, unable to take pleasure in giving without feeling depleted. To heal, these individuals need to experience a true recognition of their needs and find a safe source of goodness (in themselves and others) that cannot be spoiled through envy or aggression.The turning point in therapy for many narcissistically wounded individuals is when they are finally able to experience gratitude. I have learned, from my work integrating Judaism and positive psychology, that gratitude is a virtue that can actually be cultivated through mindfulness and spiritual practice. By developing mindfulness that everything that is ours is given to us as a gratuitous gift by others or, on a deeper level, by God, we can begin to truly “receive” and take in the good in our lives. We can also enjoy what we have, instead of focusing on what we lack.A newfound capacity for gratitude awakens in us a feeling of generosity and a desire to emulate the Creator by giving back to others, as Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach’s classic tale about the healing of a lonely miser suggests.For those who do not know the tale, here’s my own retelling of the story, inspired in part by Rabbi David Cooper’s retelling from God Is a Verb:In his youth, Rabbi Shneur Zalman was once summoned to raise funds to free a young man held for ransom on the eve of his wedding day by the Russian police. Knowing there were no rich Jews in the community who could possibly come up with the ten thousand ruble ransom being demanded, Shneur Zalman decides that his only hope is to approach the one rich man in town, Ze’ev the miser. Shneur Zalman’s two friends, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev and Reb Mendele of Vitebsk, try to dissuade him, reminding him that Ze’ev never gave more than a dirty kopek to even the most desperate beggar. But Shneur Zalman insists that Ze’ev is their only hope, and he tells them that if they want to come along to support him, they can come so long as they promise not to say a word, no matter what transpires.After consenting to Shneur Zalman’s terms, the three young rabbis go and knock on the miser’s door. Invited in, Shneur Zalman proceeds to pitch his cause. Ze’ev responds with a show of sympathy by pulling a dirty kopek out of his money pouch and handing it to Shneur Zalman saying, “Here, Rabbi, please take my contribution.” To everyone’s surprise Shneur Zalman then proceeds to thank the miser profusely and bless him for his generosity. As he concludes his elaborate blessing and gets up to leave, his fellow rabbis give him an exasperated look, but Shneur Zalman simply reminds them of their promise to keep quiet.Just as the three rabbis are about to leave the house, Ze’ev comes running back and says, “Come back, please, I want to give you a little more. It is such a sad story.” Ze’ev then proceeds to pull another pouch out of his pocket and from it he procures a shiny ruble. Again, Shneur Zalman showers the miser with blessings, thanking him again and again for his generosity and compassion. The scenario repeats itself several more times, each time ending with Ze’ev giving a bit more and Shneur Zalman continuing to bless and thank him. Eventually the full sum of ten thousand rubles is given and the rabbis are able to obtain freedom for the young captive, who then goes on to get married and invites Ze’ev to be his honored guest at the wedding.When his companions later ask him how he knew not to give up on Ze’ev, Shneur Zalman replies, “Deep down I knew that Ze’ev was no miser. It’s just that no one had ever been willing to receive his tiny offering. Everyone he gave that rusty kopek to threw it back in his face, so he never got to experience the joy of giving and the satisfaction of being received. When I accepted what he could give, Ze’ev found the strength to give more. And the more he let go and gave, the more he wanted to give.”In this tale the boundaries between giver and receiver repeatedly blur. In receiving Ze’ev’s gift, with all its limitations, Shneur Zalman gives Ze’ev an experience of his own goodness. By truly receiving not just what was given (a lousy, rusty single kopek), but the giver himself, Shneur Zalman offers Ze’ev what he deeply longs for—unconditional love and acceptance. Each time Ze’ev gives, his inner resources and sense of abundance grow. By giving, Ze’ev receives more and more of what is already his. Generosity functions much like those old-fashioned water heaters whose waters warm up only when the faucet is turned on. Similarly, the act of giving warms us from the inside and allows us to keep pouring forth goodness from our hearts. When the Torah commands us to give to the poor, the phrase used is redundant, “Give, you shall surely give” (Naton Titen, Deut. 15:10), for when we give we are gifted with the capacity and the desire to keep giving.The relationship between love and giving is beautifully drawn in Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler’s classic book of Jewish thought, Strive for Truth. We commonly assume, he says, that the more we love someone, the more we want to give to them. While this is true, the opposite is also true, suggests Rabbi Dessler. The more we give to another, the more we grow to love them. This truth is reflected in the linguistic connection between the Hebrew word for love, ahavah, and the Hebrew-Aramaic word for giving, hav, which is derived from the same root. By giving, he suggests, we invest a part of ourselves in the Other, and it is then easy to feel love, for we see the Other as an extension of ourselves. For this reason, the Bible commands us to give not just to those we love but to our enemies as well, for by giving to someone we do not naturally love, we will inevitably come to love them. In fact, Jewish law teaches that if faced simultaneously with an opportunity to help a friend and an enemy, both of whom are in need, one should help one’s enemy first in order to transform hatred to love (Talmud Baba Metzia 32b).The act of giving finds its deepest mystical expression in the practice of tzedakah (giving charity), through which we most clearly come to resemble the Creator. According to Kabbalah, the most sublime name for the divine, יﬣוﬣ (Yod-H-Vav-Heh), depicts the Creator as continuously en-eh gaged in the act of charity.According to Jewish numerology, the first letter of this name, yod, equals ten. Small like a coin, the yod symbolizes the gift of existence that God gives us through the ten divine utterances that continuously create the world. This gift is given to us with the next letter, heh, which is numerically equivalent to five. Like the five-fingered hand, the heh holds the gift of existence and reaches out with the divine outstretched arm, symbolized by the letter vav, which is shaped like an arm. The final heh of the name symbolizes our hand that opens to receive God’s gift of existence.God’s name is complete only when we receive the gift of existence with the humble awareness that even the hand with which we receive is given to us. Each time we practice tzedakah, placing a coin in the hand of someone in need, we complete the divine name and in doing so participate in the ecstatic, transcendent moment when giver and receiver merge.Next time you pass by a beggar on the street, you might just remember that reaching for the coin in your pocket and placing it in that individual’s hand is potentially a redemptive act, unifying the name of the One.