Donkeys, Oxen & Outreach: Restoring What is Lost

“Finders keepers losers weepers.”

Most people know this idiom as a children’s rhyme. It is, however, quite old. The earliest written use of this expression dates to 200 BCE by the Roman playwright Plautus, and it trickles down in various forms through English literature until it’s specifically referenced as an “auld Scotch Proverb” by D.M. Moir in 1824.

It’s not a very Jewish concept.

There is a mitzvah of hashavat aveidah, returning lost objects. There is a whole Talmudic Tractate on the subject, Bava Metzia. It can be really simple: Finding something with someone’s name and contact information. It can be very complicated: Finding a Rolex in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

At the core of the mitzvah is the concern we should have for others’ wellbeing – physical, emotional, and even spiritual.

Let’s go to the sources.

“If you see your fellow’s ox or sheep gone astray, do not ignore it; you must take it back to your fellow. If your fellow does not live near you or you do not know who the owner is, you shall bring it to your home, and it shall remain with you until your peer claims it; then you shall give it back. You shall do the same with that person’s donkey; you shall do the same with that person’s garment; and so too shall you do with anything that your fellow loses, and you find: you must not remain indifferent. If you see your fellow’s donkey or ox fallen on the road, do not ignore it; you must raise it together.” (Devarim 22:1-4)

On a simple and practical level, we must be on the lookout to return lost objects. The Torah expects us to keep our eyes open - “do not ignore it” - for the opportunity to help someone who has lost something - “gone astray” - or whose animal needs assistance - “fallen on the road.” We cannot ignore this responsibility even if it requires effort on our part - “bring it to your home” and “give it back.” Shirking our responsibility is not an option – “you must not remain indifferent.”

The Or HaChaim and the Chafetz Chaim both note that the mitzvah of returning lost objects extends to a deeper and more spiritual responsibility. We need to be on the lookout for other people’s religious wellbeing. They read the verses as describing someone who has “lost” their commitment to religion or observance or gone astray. They may be wandering around or their faith has fallen by the wayside. We must help give it back to them and raise them up. Sometimes, we have to bring them into our homes to restore their religious commitment. We cannot remain indifferent.

Some call this kind of activity “kiruv” or outreach. There is some truth to these terms. We won’t get anything done without engaging with others, getting closer to people, or reaching out. At the same time, this term is a misnomer. The Lubavitcher Rebbe (among others) disliked the term “kiruv rechokim – bring near those who are far” to describe engaging, educating, and trying to inspire Jews with less education or observance. What gives us the right to say we personify what is “near” and define them as being so “far?!?”

These days, returning lost objects in the Biblical sense has come along way from donkeys and oxen. Without a clear, identifying symbol, it’s a lot harder to perform the mitzvah of hashavat aveidah. These verses, though, maintain an enduring message to keep our eyes open for what our fellow might be missing.

I am particularly struck by the expressions the Torah uses, “If your fellow does not live near you” and “you shall bring it home.” While the text is requiring the finder to bring the lost object home, I cannot but help see this verse as teaching us the potential of influencing people at home – inviting them to our homes or visiting them in theirs. Nothing beats the power of a visit or, especially, a Shabbat or holiday meal together. As we enter the High Holiday season, we’ll have plenty of meals, Sukkah Hops, Kiddushes, and other gatherings at which to share the beauty of Judaism with family, friends, and not-yet friends.

Each of us has an obligation to be on the lookout for all who have lost something – be it an object, the gift of a good Jewish education, or a strong sense of religion. We need to pick them up, bring them near, take them home, restore them, and raise them up. We cannot remain indifferent.

Judaism Must Preserve the Core & Stimulate Progress

Nine-year-old Joey was asked by his mother what he learned at Hebrew school.

"Well, Mom, our teacher told us how God sent Moses behind enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. When he got to the Red Sea, he had his engineers build a pontoon bridge and all the people walked across safely. Then he used his walkie-talkie to radio headquarters for reinforcements. They sent bombers to blow up the bridge, destroy the enemy, and all the Israelites were saved."

"Now, Joey, is that really what your teacher taught you?"

"Well, no, Mom. But if I told it the way the teacher did, you'd never believe it!"

It is a mitzvah to make Torah and Judaism relevant in each generation.

The Torah is very clear in instructing us how to address difficult questions and ensuring Judaism remain relevant throughout the generations.

“If a case is too baffling for you to decide, be it a controversy over homicide, civil law, or assault—matters of dispute in your courts, you shall promptly repair to the place that the Lord your God will have chosen, and appear before the levitical priests, or the magistrate in charge at the time, and present your problem. They will investigate and tell you their decision.” (Devarim 17:8-9)

I do not think this verse is laying out a hypothetical. “Ki” does not only mean “if.” It can mean “when.”

There WILL come a time when difficult questions concerning the relevance of Judaism will arise. People WILL come to the religious leadership ba-yamim ha-heim – in that time. Those leaders MUST provide relevant answers.

How do we understand new technology? How do we deal with different family dynamics, different lifestyles, or having so many choices? We can’t just say times have changed.

In Built to Last, Jim Collins argues that for companies to be sustainable for the long haul, leaders must embrace a seeming paradox. Preserve the core and stimulate progress. They must both honor and protect their fundamental values and beliefs, while at the same time push their organizations forward and embrace change.

That’s exactly the challenge we face - and must embrace - in Judaism. We face changes to our reality. At the same time, we can never just change and create a new Torah.

Grappling with this challenge is demonstrated in the Torah’s requirements for the King of Israel. (Devarim 17:14-20) The King needed to write a Sefer Torah. In fact, the Gemara in Sanhedrin (21b) teaches that the King was obligated to write 2 Torahs. The King must write one Torah, just as everyone is commanded to do. That Torah is placed in the King’s treasury. The second Torah is unique to the King, and the king carried that Torah wherever he goes.

These two Torahs represent the values of preserving the core and stimulating progress. One Torah was stored away, never moved. It was a permanent reminder to remain true to the morals and values contained within. This Torah represents tradition, and this Torah could be passed down from one king to the next. The second Torah must be written specifically for this King. It can’t be purchased or acquired as an inheritance. The King must write this Torah and keep it with him wherever he goes. This Torah represents the King’s obligation to stimulate progress. Whatever new initiatives he tries to initiate, whatever new challenges he may face, the King responds to the new reality with the guidelines of Torah.

The same is true for us today. There are questions. Many things look very different than they did in the past. Judaism, however, is built to last. The Torah was the first to teach us to preserve the core while embracing progress. We must be up to the challenge of balancing the two. We cannot just embrace the times while ignoring tradition nor can we deny the changing times.

The story is told of how Rav Kook, upon one of his visits to an anti-religious kibbutz, was approached by one of the leaders who greeted him as follows:

“With all due respect Rabbi, you shouldn’t waste your time trying to convince us to be religious. It’s not that we don’t know what Torah is. Most of us were raised in observant homes. We know Torah, rabbis, mitzvot and we don’t like them!"

Rav Kook, puzzled, asked, “Why?"

The kibbutznik replied: “We simply can’t stand your old-fashioned, meaningless, outdated rituals!"

Exclaimed Rav Kook, “I agree.”

“What?” asked the surprised rebel.

Explained the Rav, “I also hate the ‘religion’ that you describe. But the dynamic, idealistic and deep Torah is so beautiful that it can respond to any era. Anyone who is exposed to it cannot but love it!”

There will be really difficult questions. We will wonder how Judaism can respond to seemingly impossible contemporary challenges. We can – and will – provide answers.

The Right Kind of Influencer

Today, influence and influencer have taken on entirely new meanings.

An “influencer” is a person with the ability to use their social media presence to convince their followers to buy a particular product or service by promoting or recommending the items on social media. The role has reshaped companies and can be particularly impactful with young people.

Judaism is aware of the power of the influencer. The “wrong” kind of influencer can be guilty of a capital crime, teaching us the power and responsibility of even attempting to influence others.

The Torah (Devarim 13:712) presents the “meisit,” one who entices Jews to stray from Judaism and God. This individual uses their influence to lead people astray. Such an influencer is guilty of a capital crime and stoned so that “all Israel will hear and be afraid and such evil things will not be done in your midst.”

Think about it: The influencer is stoned for attempting to use their influence sinfully – even if they are unsuccessful.

Rabbi Simha Zissel Ziv, known as the Alter of Kelm, noted that if the Torah assigns such a harsh punishment for the mere attempt – successful or otherwise – to lure others to sin, then there is certainly a great reward for those who attempt to influence others for the good. Whether or not we are successful, there is great value in just making an effort at influencing others and changing people’s lives for the better. It’s great to be a successful influencer, but it’s just as important to try to help people physically, emotionally, or spiritually.

We should be on the lookout for these opportunities.

Our parsha begins with the word “re’eh,” which means “see” in the singular. The verse, however, then shifts to the word “lifneichem,” which means “before you” in the plural. Why the grammatically inconsistent shift?

The Kli Yakar suggests that the answer can be found in the Talmud (Kiddushin 40b) where the Sages tell us that we should each see ourselves as split 50/50 between merits and demerits. Our very next action will determine our destiny. Furthermore, we should view the world as likewise split 50/50 and that any individual’s next action will impact the whole world. This is why Moshe highlights the singular and the plural. We are responsible for our own actions, but we must also be cognizant that everyone is interconnected, and our actions reverberate beyond our own individual lives. We need to choose wisely. We need to hope others choose wisely as well. And we need to realize our choices and actions can influence the entire world though how our choices and actions reverberate with others.

We have tremendous influence! The things we do and say can make a huge difference in how others think, feel, or act. It’s a tremendous opportunity, responsibility, and privilege. Chance occurrences can turn into meaningful moments.

Rabbi Aryeh Levin, the famed tzaddik of Jerusalem, once spotted a young IDF soldier on a short furlough from the army. The rabbi knew the young man from the neighborhood in Geula, and so he crossed the street and extended his hand in greeting. “Shalom Aleichem,” said the venerable sage. “Please come to my home. I would very much like to drink tea with you and hear about your activities.”

The young soldier seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t think it’s right for me to come visit you,” he said. “I don’t wear a kippa anymore.”

Rabbi Levin, in his black hat and long kaftan, smiled warmly at the young man and took his hand in his own. “Don’t you see? I’m a very short man. I see you, but I cannot look up so high as to notice whether you are wearing a kippa. But I can see your heart – and your heart is big and kind, and that’s what counts. You are also a soldier placing your life at risk for all of us in Israel. Please drink tea with me; your kippa is probably bigger than mine.”

Influencers have come a long way since Dale Carnegie released How to Win Friends and Influence People in 1936. Our responsibility is to appreciate both the positive and negative role influence may play. Most important is to be on the lookout for opportunities to enhance people’s lives through lessons, actions, model behavior, or even a glass of tea.

Count Your (100) Blessings!

“And now, Israel, what does your God demand of you? Only this: to revere your God, to walk only in divine paths, and to love and to serve your God with all your heart and soul.” (Devarim 10:12)

How do we serve God? ONLY by walking in the divine path and serving God with all we have. No big deal.

Like any Jewish parent, God doesn’t ask for much…

The Talmud (Menachot 43b) notes the open-ended nature of this request. How can it be that “all” God demands is “merely” to be spiritually perfect? Rabbi Meir understands the verse as referring to a specific religious goal.

“A person is obligated to recite one hundred blessings every day, as it is stated in the verse: ‘And now, Israel, what [ma] does the Lord your God require of you.’ The verse requires mah which is to be understood as though it said me’ah – one hundred. God is demanding a specific number of blessings each day (me’ah) rather than the open-ended quest for religiosity - mah (what).

How can 100 blessings a day take the place of revering God, walking in divine paths, and loving and serving God with all our heart and soul?

Rabbi Shmuel Eidels (16^th century) and Rabbi Yosef Chaim (19^th century) explain that reciting numerous blessings daily cannot replace other aspects of Judaism. Reciting 100 blessings a day, however, creates a religious mindset and worldview which does nudge us to be more aware of God and God’s blessings.

This can be compared to the Talmudic teaching (Berachot 4b) that one who says the Ashrei prayer three times a day is guaranteed a place in the World to Come. Is that all it takes? Eat, drink, and be merry – just remember to say Ashrei three times a day?!? The true meaning of the teaching is that someone who takes the time and makes the effort to pray properly each day – including all three times Ashrei is recited in the morning and afternoon- is likely the type of religious personality living the kind of life worthy of a place in the World to Come.

When I study with people who are converting to Judaism, there are many important ideas and practices. I always stress that prayer and blessings are ways to regularly connect with our faith in God. Other mitzvot can become habits or practices – kosher, Shabbat, holidays. We develop a rhythm of observance without always thinking more deeply about these rituals as being spiritual or connecting us to God. Prayer and blessings are different. They are exclusively about acknowledging we have a connection with God. Reciting 100 blessings a day pushes us to bring God into our lives throughout each day.

Should you think saying 100 blessings daily is a lot, I have two pieces of advice:

1)  Reciting 100 blessings a day is easier than you think. The regular order of prayers and blessings contains 90 berachot. Reciting the Shemone Esrei three times a day is already 57 blessings. Throw in the Morning Blessings and Shema, and you’re at 90 before eating anything. A couple of meals and snacks, and you’re already there. (Shabbat, with shorter prayers, means you just must eat more.)

2)  The number of blessings recited is less important than our need to count our blessings. What does the word “baruch” mean? It is often translated as “blessed.” When you plug this into the opening of any beracha, you get the expressions “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe…” What exactly does “Blessed are You” mean? Who speaks that way?

I prefer translating the word “baruch” as “the source of all blessing.” Translated this way, the opening of a beracha reads: “You, Lord our God, King of the universe are the source of all blessing…” This makes much more sense. A beracha is not describing God. A beracha is acknowledging the presence of God.

A new Gallup poll found that Americans’ belief in God has fallen to a new low. Seventy-four percent of Americans said they believe in God, down 16% over the last 20 years. The numbers aren’t any better within the Jewish community. I believe belief is personal and fluid. Not everyone believes the same way all the time. There are ebbs and flows. (That’s why Judaism focuses more on practice.) The Torah, as interpreted by Rabbi Meir, however, provides us with a mechanism for developing and exploring our faith: Count our blessings. Each time we stop to acknowledge what we have is what God gives us, we strengthen our connection with Judaism and with God.

100 blessings a day has got to keep something away – even as it can also bring us closer to God.