By Rabbi Mordechai Rhine

Yakov fled his parent’s home and arrived in Charan, where he saw the shepherds waiting with their flocks. “What are you waiting for?” he asked them. They told him that they wait until all the shepherds gather, and then, together, they remove the rock that is on top of the well. When Yakov saw Rochel, his cousin, Yakov promptly removed the rock singlehandedly, and watered the flock.

One wonders: The shepherds had a perfectly good strategy to get the water. They would wait until they were all gathered, and then as a team, they would remove the rock. What compelled Yakov to remove the rock on his own?

Rashi tells us that when Yakov met Rochel, he cried because he had nothing to give her. “My grandfather’s servant came with much wealth and many gifts, and I come with nothing [because Yakov had been robbed].” The Alter of Slabodka explains that this is what compelled Yakov to remove the rock on his own. Yakov was desperate to be a giver. He removed the rock on his own, because he had no money to give. Instead he gave of himself. Yakov desperately wanted to be a giver.

In many life interactions there is a giver and a taker. Sometimes it requires creativity to identify which person is the giver.

For example, when you see a person visit a patient in a hospital you may think of it in the way of conventional wisdom. “Who is giving to who? Certainly the healthy person is giving to the patient.” Yet, sometimes you will encounter a patient who is so appreciative, that the visitor seems to float out of the room in joy, most pleased with the patient’s  uplifting attitude, tidbit of wisdom, or the genuine smile that the patient shared with them. I ask you: Who really gave more to who?

The Talmud in Brachos tells of one of the most serious forms of theft: To steal from a poor person. Rashi explains: Although the poor person has nothing which you can steal, you have stolen from him if he greets you and you do not reciprocate in greeting. It is considered a very severe form of theft. Because the poor person has literally nothing, and yet, he tried to give. He gave a greeting, a smile, a bit of warmth. If you do not return the goodhearted greeting that is due him, you have taken from him without paying, and it is like theft.

Perhaps the greatest example of giving, when you have “nothing” to give is Avraham who is described with the words, “And he believed in Hashem, and it was considered for him like charity.” Can one really give charity to Hashem?

The answer is that if you give someone something that they really want but cannot get on their own, it is akin to “charity”. In this case, Hashem wanted something  very much. In a world of confusion, Hashem wanted someone to believe in a greater future. In a world that did not believe, Hashem wanted someone to believe that Avraham and Sara would have children, and that their descendents would inherit the promised land. Although Avraham was pathetically poor compared to Hashem, by believing, he gave “charity”. He gave something that Hashem so desperately wanted.

Perhaps this is why our Rabbis tell us that the reward for a person who solicited a donation is even greater than the reward given to the donor himself. As great as giving a donation is, in a certain way the one who encouraged the donation gave even more. In conventional wisdom the one who solicited gave nothing. But in truth by soliciting the donation he afforded the donor the opportunity to give.

Rav Dessler points out that in all relationships, even those for which we are well paid, a person can strive to be a giver. By being generous with a customer or boss, by providing services just a bit better than are required of us, and by doing it with good cheer, we too can be givers even when we think we have nothing to give.

With best wishes for a wonderful Shabbos!