Sources from essay by Rabbi Yair Robinson in The Mussar Torah Commentary
I go visit an older congregant at the hospital after a difficult surgery. We talk. We pray. As the conversation wraps up, I ask if the synagogue's caring committee may reach out. Without fail, as soon as the words are out of my mouth, the congregant looks at me with bewilderment, amusement, and a bit of anger–and responds dismissively, "But Rabbi, I'm on the caring committee!" as if to say that he somehow can't accept the support. But why? Why is it so hard for this congregant to accept the visit the support, the sense of appreciation and love from a fellow community member? Encounters like this happen all the time. Someone offers help, and we blanch; they give us an unexpected gift, and we turn beet red from embarrassment; or they offer a compliment, and we stammer and stutter. Why can we not just say thank you and move forward with a little spring in our step? Why is the offer of help swatted away so instinctively? Why can't
we accept another person's gifts?
A gift, I would argue, is something freely given by someone else, to our benefit, where we cannot return the favor. This is demonstrated beautifully in Parashat Eikev, which presents Moses describing the various blessings that Israel will experience once they enter the Promised Land, as well as how God will allow Israel to conquer it. In describing those blessings—of sustenance, of health, of children, and of victory—Moses also reminds Israel of their forty years of wandering and the miracles that God wrought for them during that time—not only large and obvious miracles, like manna, but also the otherwise unnoticed fact that their clothes haven’t worn out. In all of these descriptions, there is a reminder, both explicit and implicit: these have all been gifts of God, and God’s gifts will continue.
Before they cross the Jordan River, Moses reminds them further of God’s generosity, lest Israel assume their prosperity is the work of their own hands. In one of the following verses, we read:
(י) וְאָכַלְתָּ֖ וְשָׂבָ֑עְתָּ וּבֵֽרַכְתָּ֙ אֶת־יהוה אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ עַל־הָאָ֥רֶץ הַטֹּבָ֖ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר נָֽתַן־לָֽךְ׃
(10) When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to your God יהוה for the good land given to you.
תָּנוּ רַבָּנַן: מִנַּיִן לְבִרְכַּת הַמָּזוֹן מִן הַתּוֹרָה? — שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״וְאָכַלְתָּ וְשָׂבָעְתָּ וּבֵרַכְתָּ״ — זוֹ בִּרְכַּת ״הַזָּן״, ״אֶת יהוה אֱלֹהֶיךָ״ — זוֹ בִּרְכַּת הַזִּמּוּן, ״עַל הָאָרֶץ״ — זוֹ בִּרְכַּת הָאָרֶץ, ״הַטּוֹבָה״ — זוֹ ״בּוֹנֵה יְרוּשָׁלַיִם״, וְכֵן הוּא אוֹמֵר ״הָהָר הַטּוֹב הַזֶּה וְהַלְּבָנוֹן״. ״אֲשֶׁר נָתַן לָךְ״ — זוֹ ״הַטּוֹב וְהַמֵּטִיב״. אֵין לִי אֶלָּא לְאַחֲרָיו, לְפָנָיו מִנַּיִן? — אָמְרַתְּ קַל וָחוֹמֶר: כְּשֶׁהוּא שָׂבֵעַ מְבָרֵךְ, כְּשֶׁהוּא רָעֵב — לֹא כׇּל שֶׁכֵּן.
The Sages taught in a Tosefta: From where is it derived that Grace after Meals is from the Torah? As it is stated: “And you shall eat and be satisfied, and you shall bless the Lord, your God, for the good land that He has given you” (Deuteronomy 8:10). The Gemara explains: And you shall bless, that is the blessing of: Who feeds all...That He gave you, that is: Who is good and does good.
(א) וברכת את יהוה אלהיך. למען תזכור כי מאתו היו אלה לך:
The reason why the Eternal blesses you in such a fashion is so that
you wil remember that only from God could you have been given a
land with such an abundance of advantages
Why is it so hard to accept a gift?
Some of this feeling is caused by our false assumption that we need to return the favor. We receive a gift, something freely given, and we perceive ourselves as obliged to repay the kindness. When we reciprocate — or, for example, when we are in a vulnerable position like the ill congregant — we recoil from accepting the offer. Our pride, feelings of unworthiness, and fear of obligation toward the other constrict us. Instead of accepting the generous offer of support, praise, or a gift, we reject it and are poorer for it. We are good at giving, but we are terrible at receiving because we fear the need to be grateful. However, Mussar teaches that the middah of n’divut (נְדִיבוּת, “generosity”) is intimately related to the hakarat hatov (הַכָּרַת הַטּוֹב, “gratitude”) commanded in Eikev.
Moshe Chayim Luzzato, also known as the Ramchal, elaborates on this idea of God’s generosity in his work Mesilat Yesharim (The Path of the Upright).
Everyone, whatever their circumstances, whether they be poor or rich, healthy or sick, has occasion to perceive many a miracle and many an act of mercy by virtue of the very circumstances in which they are placed.” We experience God’s generosity, then, and must acknowledge it. While this acknowledgment is itself an act of gratitude, we must be in a state of n’divut in order to express this gratitude in the form of gifts to others — because we cannot repay God...If we appreciated the kindnesses received from God, we would surely be eager to worship God. All the more, if we realized that our happiness depends upon God, and that whatever we need and whatever is indispensable comes from God and from none other, we would undoubtedly not serve the Holy Blessed One with indolence, nor be remiss in the performance of our duties.
Rabbi Ira Stone, in his commentary on M'silat Yesharim, elaborates:
Ramchal traces the source of gratitude to the fact that we are neither responsible for our own creation nor for the good that accrues to us by virtue of our creation. Another brings us into creation, and another provides for whatever is good in our being, from physical nourishment to emotional sustenance. Gratitude for these gifts is an obligating realization; we are indebted before we are even conscious. This indebtedness is fundamental to Mussar in particular and to Judaic thought more generally. The centrality of mitzvot derives from it. Contrary to the philosophical idea of free will, the Mussar concept of freedom is played out on a field of preexisting obligations.
In Eikev, Moses reminds us of God’s generosity—of protection, sustenance, and a land flowing with milk and honey—and our need to express our gratitude for God’s gifts. When, in response to Parashat Eikev’s central commandment, we express our gratitude for God’s sustenance, we also place ourselves in the realm of n’divut. We are called to ask, “I have sustenance, but what of those who do not? My life is full of miracles and mercy, but what of other people’s suffering? My satisfaction is not, at the end of the day, my own, but an expression of God’s generosity; so, what can I do to make sure that God’s generosity is felt by as many people as possible?” When we receive a gift, a compliment, or an offer of support, we must not bat it aside or think ourselves unworthy; we must accept it, acknowledge it, and reflect on how we can pass that generosity on to others, continuing the cycle of n’divut.
A Question to Ask
- Take a moment to remember a time when someone offered you a gift, compliment, or support. What happened in your body? Did you feel open or constricted? Then, recall a moment when you acted out of generosity toward someone else. How did that person respond? How can you help others accept and enjoy your gifts and support? (Consider journaling your responses and experiences.)
- As you receive someone else's generosity, listen to your own sense of obligation toward the other. Where is it directed? How can it be guided?
- Look at Deuteronomy 8:10 again. Birkat HaMazon is intended to be a spiritual practice for every meal, an act that reminds us of the need to express generosity and gratitude. What practice, if any, moves you to do the same in your life? Consider creating a ritual for each moment of n'divut (whether you are the recipient of generosity or the one giving). Incorporate into your ritual a sense of obligation toward others.