by Rav Eli Mansour
During what was perhaps the most extraordinary time in our history, while wondrous plagues were being inflicted on the Egyptians, Gd was teaching the Jewish nation a crucial lesson through an undercurrent theme that, though far less dramatic, was no less crucial for Torah life.
Gd delivered ten devastating plagues upon the Egyptians, several of which began with an action performed by Moshe, or by Moshe and Aharon together. Thus, for example, Moshe raised his hands to the heavens to bring the hail (9:23), and Moshe and Aharon jointly threw ashes up toward the sky to trigger the plague of boils (9:9). When it came to the first three plagues, however, Moshe was told to stay on the sidelines. Aharon struck the Nile River to turn the country’s water to blood (7:19-20) and then later to produce frogs (8:1-2), and Aharon also struck the dust of the earth to bring the plague of vermin (8:13). The Talmud in Masechet Bava Kama explains Moshe’s passivity in these instances by citing a popular aphorism: “Don’t throw a stone into a well you drank from.” This means that we must show gratitude even to inanimate objects that benefited us. If we used water from a well, it is improper to cause it even minor harm by throwing a stone into it. This is why Moshe could not bring a plague upon the Nile River or upon the ground of Egypt. The Nile River is where he was hid as an infant from the Egyptian officials assigned to kill every Israelite newborn boy, and later in his life, he used the earth of the ground to hide the remains of the Egyptian taskmaster whom he killed. Strange as it may seem at first, Moshe owed a “debt of gratitude” of sorts to the river and the ground, thus preventing him from turning the river to blood and from turning the earth to vermin.
Be Nice to Your Styrofoam Cup
The commentaries on the Talmud record another incident that further illustrates this startling concept. The Rif (Rabbi Yitzhak Alfasi of Morocco, 1013-1103) was once approached by a businessman who had fallen upon hard times. Among the man’s enterprises was a public bathhouse, but he was now forced to sell the facility to cover his debts. The man asked the Rif to prepare the contract and oversee the sale to ensure its halachic validity.
The Rif, however, refused to participate in the sale in any way. “I have been a long-time customer of the bathhouse,” the rabbi explained. “I’ve used it many times, and I owe it gratitude.” The Rif thought he would be “double crossing” the bathhouse if he would help arrange for its sale, and he therefore sent the man to another rabbi.
An experience I once had as a student in kollel provides an example that is perhaps easier to relate to. While studying we would occasionally get a hot drink and bring it into the bet midrash. Once, after I finished my tea, I fidgeted with the cup as my havrutaand I learned together, and I was ripping it into pieces. My havruta mentioned to me that I shouldn’t rip my Styrofoam cup. After all, it offered me a valuable service, enabling me to drink tea. It isn’t proper to rip it up.
It may at first sound peculiar, but this is a direct, modern-day application of the Gemara’s teaching: “Don’t throw a stone into a well you drank from.” Just as Moshe could not cause damage to the river and the ground, and the Rif was deferential to his bathhouse, we should be genteel towards our Styrofoam cups, and, for that matter, all our belongings.
Exercising Our Gratitude Muscles
But isn’t this a bit extreme? We intuitively understand the concept of gratitude and appreciation, but what does it matter if I rip my cup into shreds or just throw it in the trash as is?
Rav Eliyahu Dessler (England-Israel, 1892-1953) explained that the idea is not sensitivity to inanimate objects per se, but rather the effects of this sensitivity upon our character. Indeed, a bathhouse has no feelings and would not care one way or another if the Rif arranged its sale. But we show gratitude to inanimate objects to sharpen our sensitivity to the importance of hakarat hatov – appreciating that which is done for us. By throwing a stone into the well we drank from, we would dull this sensitivity, if only slightly. Conversely, by ensuring to show gratitude to the well, we exercise our “gratitude muscles,” we train ourselves to recognize the favors done for us and to express our appreciation.
If, indeed, the Torah demands that we exercise this “muscle,” if this is how far we need to go in developing a keen sensitivity and awareness to the issue of gratitude, then this testifies to the unique importance of hakarat hatovin religious life. Gd does not want us to tear up the Styrofoam cup we drank from because our gratitude sensors must always be on high alert. Gratitude is so vital to Torah life that we need to hone this skill on an ongoing basis, to the point of treating even everyday household items with respect.
One reason for the centrality of gratitude in Judaism emerges from the discussion of the anonymous Medieval work Sefer Hahinuchconcerning the missva of honoring parents. The Sefer Hahinuchwrites that at the heart of this obligation is the notion of hakarat hatov. Our parents gave us our very lives, and lovingly cared for us throughout our childhood and beyond, and we owe them an incalculable debt of gratitude. By showing them gratitude, the Sefer Hahinuchadds, we will ultimately come to realize our incalculable debt of gratitude to the Almighty – who is also directly responsible for our very existence and everything we have in our lives. By recognizing the kindness performed for us by other people, and accustoming ourselves to feeling grateful for that kindness, we will naturally recognize all that Gd has done for us, and feel indebted to Him. Hakarat hatov is indispensable for religious life not only as an intrinsic, intuitive ethical value, but also as a vital means of cultivating our sense of subservience to Gd. The more we appreciate all that is done for us, the more we recognize our obligations to the Almighty, who has given us and gives us absolutely everything.
This message, too, is conveyed in the Exodus story. The Torah relates that the initial decrees against Bene Yisraelwere enacted by a “new king…who did not know Yosef” (Shemot 1:8). The sages explain that Pharaoh failed to show gratitude to Yosef who predicted the harsh drought that befell the region and oversaw the storage of gain in advance to avoid a food shortage. Yosef rescued Egypt, and yet the nation showed no gratitude, and enslaved his people – Bene Yisrael. And thus when Moshe, many years later, came to Pharaoh and demanded in the Name of Gd that the slaves be freed, the king replied, “I do not know Gd” (Shemot 5:2). First he “did not know Yosef,” and then ultimately he “did not know Gd.” If we fail to appreciate the kindness of other people, we will also fail to recognize the kindness of the Almighty and our obligations to Him.
Small Favors Can be Huge
In light of the vital importance of hakarat hatov, it behooves us to properly understand the Torah’s perspective on this quality, and dispel common misconceptions regarding the scope and nature of this obligation.
One such misconception relates to what we often call “small favors.” We tend to think that our gratitude for a favor should be proportional to the exertion and sacrifice made on our behalf. The greater the favor, we instinctively assume, the greater our debt of gratitude.
But there are several indications that the Torah takes a different view on “small” favors. From the Torah’s perspective, even seemingly trivial favors warrant an enormous debt of gratitude.
Back in the Book of Beresheet (29:10), we read the incident of Yaakov Avinu rolling the large stone off the well in Haran. A group of shepherds had assembled to give water to their flocks, but they had to wait until all the shepherds came because many men were needed to push the stone off the well. Yaakov, however, managed to singlehandedly remove the stone, and he then proceeded to draw water for Rahel’s flocks. The Midrash comments that Yaakov was a man of exceptional physical strength, and he moved the stone off the well with the same minimal effort required to remove a cap from a bottle.
And yet, surprisingly, in our annual tefilat geshemprayer for rain, we ask Hashem to grant abundant rainfall in the merit of Yaakov, who removed the stone from the well. This simple act, which entailed virtually no effort on Yaakov’s part, has the potential to yield enough merit to provide sufficient water for the entire world, for all time. From the Torah’s perspective, there a “small” favor is not necessarily measured by effort. Hesed, by definition, is something spectacular and transcendent. Even the simplest act of kindness has inestimable value, and deserves immense feelings of gratitude.
Another example is to be found, once again, in the story of the Exodus. Moshe was forced to flee from Egypt after killing an Egyptian taskmaster, and he arrived at a well in Midyan. The Torah (Shemot 2:17) relates that a group of shepherds chased away Yitro’s daughters, who had come to draw water for their herds, and Moshe saved them. The Midrash explains that the shepherds actually threw the young women into the well, and they would have drowned if Moshe had not arrived at the scene. Yitro’s daughters reported the incident to their father, who then invited Moshe for a meal (Shemot 2:20).
The effects of that dinner invitation were still felt centuries later. When King Shaul set out to wage battle against the nation of Amalek, he first delivered a message to the Keni tribe – the descendants of Yitro, who lived near Amalek – urging them to leave the area so as to avoid harm. In this message, Shaul said to the Kenites that he wants them to be spared because of the kindness they extended to Bene Yisrael (Shemuel I 15:6). According to one view in the Midrash, this refers to the kindness Yitro extended to Moshe.
Imagine – Yitro invites the man who just saved his daughters’ lives to have a piece of bread with him, and because of this gesture, an entire tribe of his descendants are saved centuries later!
Indeed, “small” favors go a long way. Even a dinner invitation, and even a dinner invitation that has been rightfully earned, is a great act of hesedfor which one must feel a great debt of gratitude.
Being a Good Guest
Another common misconception is that gratitude depends on intent. If we benefit from the actions of somebody else, who is pursuing only his own personal interests, we often think we do not owe appreciation and gratitude if the person never intended to help us.
The Talmud, however, teaches otherwise. Discussing the proper attitude that a guest should have toward his host, the Talmud instructs:
What does a good guest say? “Look at all the trouble the host went through for me! He brought me so much meat, he brought me so much wine, he brought me so many loaves – and all this trouble he went through only for me!”
What does a bad guest say? “What trouble did the host go through for me? I ate one slice of bread, I ate one piece of meat, and I drank one cup of wine. All the trouble that the host went through – it was only for his wife and children.
The ungrateful guest looks at the lavish meal and calculates that his presence did not really affect the host. All the food and beverages were purchased and served anyway for the family, and his share was minimal – and whatever he ate may have even gone to waste had he not been there – so he does not have to feel appreciative about the abundance of food that was prepared. But the grateful guest does not look at it that way. He sees the bottom line: he was served a nourishing meal. The fact that the meal would have been served without him, and that perhaps the portion he ate would have gone to the garbage, is immaterial. If we derive benefit from another, regardless of his motivation, we owe a debt of gratitude.
In one of the most astounding verses in the Torah, we are commanded to deal kindly with Egyptians because they granted us refuge in their land during a period of famine (Devarim 23:8). The Egyptians were not especially nice to us, to say the least, but the fact remains that Yaakov and his family were given quarter there at one time. This in itself, demands a measure of gratitude, to the extent that it has been codified in the Torah for all eternity.
Thanking the Mailman
Practically speaking, this means that we must feel thankful even toward those whom we expect and pay to provide services for our ultimate benefit. The fact that the mailman gets paid to bring us our mail every day does not absolve us of the obligation to warmly thank him. And the same goes for the bus driver, the barber, our employees, and everyone else who provides us with a service. When we come into the house and see that everything is neat, clean and orderly, it is proper to say “thank you” to the housekeeper. If we walk into a store and the salesman spends time helping us find the product we need, we should express our appreciation.
But, of course, gratitude begins at home. It might be expected that a wife cooks for her husband, but the husband is obligated to show his appreciation – as a wife is obligated to express her gratitude for her husband’s hard work to support the family. The fact that these are the generally accepted roles is irrelevant. If somebody does something for us, we owe a debt of gratitude.
January is a time when many people travel and enjoy a well-deserved vacation. I frequently emphasize the vital importance of manners and courteousness especially during travel, when we have the opportunity to present a positive image to those who have little other contact with Orthodox Jews. Additionally, however, we must not forget our basic obligation to express our gratitude and appreciation for the services we receive. Vacationing is not cheap, and unfortunately, many travelers feel that the exorbitant sums of money they shell out for their trips absolve them from the need to say thank you, and allow them to make strict, unyielding demands from the staff that serves them. Being a difficult, ungrateful passenger or hotel guest not only causes a terrible hillul Hashem (defamation of Gd’s Name), but also bespeaks an appalling lack of hakarat hatov. No matter how much a traveler is paying, he must be grateful for the service he receives, and act with courtesy and consideration. If the Torah commands us to be grateful to the Egyptians for the hospitality they offered us, travelers must certainly be grateful to the airplane crew and the hotel staff that serve them.
Rabbi Avigdor Miller z.s.l.(1908-2001) was once riding a New York City bus and saw the driver assist an elderly woman. The woman wanted to board the bus, and the driver got out of his seat, went down the steps, and helped the woman walk up onto the bus. When Rabbi Miller returned home, he penned a letter to the MTA, specifying precisely which line he was riding and at what time, and expressing his admiration for the driver for showing such care and consideration. Some time later, he received a letter back from the driver, who thanked the rabbi for writing the letter, as a result of which he received a promotion. The driver was amazed that the rabbi took the time to commend him for doing something he was required to do, as part of his job.
We all witness and experience kindness in innumerable forms throughout the day. And yet, we tend to complain and criticize far more than we compliment and thank. Instead of complaining about what the people around us do wrong, we should feel grateful for what they do right. If we accustom ourselves to give praise and compliments instead of complaints and criticism, our homes and communities will be much happier and pleasant places to live. And we will then become ever more aware of the countless acts of kindness that Gd performs for us at every moment, and thus inspired with a greater desire to serve Him with faithful devotion.
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