Share the burden, feel the pain?

In light of the current crisis facing not just Israel but world Jewry I would like to share with you a passage I recently came across in “Lightening the load” by R’ Reuven Leuchter, Mishpacha, 23 January (full text here). He writes:

The suffering around us isn’t just a cause for weeping — it’s a call for avodah. Our times demand from us the middah described in Pirkei Avos as nosei b’ol im chaveiro; literally, sharing our friend’s burden. Being nosei b’ol means seeing everything that your friend is going through, including the subtle difficulties you wouldn’t notice with a superficial glance. This is a necessary step toward helping your friend or providing emotional support, but it’s also significant in itself. Even when we can’t help, we must not remain indifferent to our fellow Jew’s plight. If we can’t alleviate our friend’s difficulty, the least we can do is acknowledge it.

To work on being nosei b’ol, we have to dispel a common misunderstanding. Being nosei b’ol doesn’t mean feeling other people’s pain. If we understand the severity of their hardship, we will inevitably be emotionally affected. But if we try to approach the plight of our fellow with our heart alone, we risk getting sucked into the quicksand of despair. Becoming too emotionally involved actually prevents us from helping others, because when someone is sinking in quicksand, only someone standing on firm ground can help him.

The beginning of being nosei b’ol is not to feel for the other person, but to think about him. To take a moment to step into his shoes and just think about his world, without searching for solutions. What is it like to live in his situation, day in and day out? How does it impact him physically, emotionally, spiritually, and socially? We’re often blind to the difficulties our friend experiences because we don’t think about his life. Even caring comrades can be oblivious to the most painful aspects of their friend’s situation, simply because they never thought it through.

To be nosei be’ol im chaveiro, literally pulling the yoke with one’s fellow humans and sharing their burden, is one of the 48 qualities associated with acquiring Torah skills and living in accordance with its precepts (see Avot 6:6). You don’t have to judge another person before you share their load. Indeed, Avot 2:5 suggests that, since we never stand in another person’s shoes, as it were, we should not even try to do so. You do have to think about others—not just in the abstract or when reminded, but in way that the result of your thoughts may be helpful to them. Yes, it is a tall order, but when our brethren are so greatly in need of help we should at least make the effort, even if this means overcoming the myriad distractions that come between us and our thoughts for others.

R' Leuchter writes: “The beginning of being nosei b’ol is not to feel for the other person, but to think about him”. It’s easy to extrapolate from this a message that we should not feel for others, but that’s not what he is saying. Of course we should have feelings; we wouldn’t be human if we were devoid of them. But an increased awareness of other people’s predicaments is only the beginning. If we don’t think meaningfully about their plight, what value are our feelings—to ourselves and to others?

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Middot at war 6: Picking up the pieces

This, the sixth and final post in Avot Today's Middot at War series, looks beyond the conflict to the aftermath. Is either side obliged to assist the other in picking up the pieces and engaging in the large task of reconstruction?

Prima facie this is a topic that lies way beyond the content of Pirkei Avot. However. There is a possibility that this may not be so.

At Avot 1:7 Nittai HaArbeli says:

הַרְחֵק מִשָּׁכֵן רָע, וְאַל תִּתְחַבֵּר לָרָשָׁע, וְאַל תִּתְיָאֵשׁ מִן הַפּוּרְעָנוּת

[Translation] “Distance yourself from a bad neighbour, and don’t stick to a wicked person, and do not abandon belief in retribution”.

The first two parts of this teaching have a plain meaning and, while commentators have offered many examples and explanations, they share a core meaning: don’t become too closely involved with bad influences. The third part, however, is a vague and general proposition that invites interpretation.

Midrash Shmuel offers several shots at explaining this teaching. One starts with a quote from the Torah: כִּ֣י תִפְגַּ֞ע שׁ֧וֹר אֹֽיִבְךָ֛ א֥וֹ חֲמֹר֖וֹ תֹּעֶ֑ה הָשֵׁ֥ב תְּשִׁיבֶ֖נּוּ לֽוֹֹ (“When you encounter your enemy’s ox or ass wandering, you must take it back”: Shemot 23:4). The Gemara (Bava Metzia, Eilu Metziot) establishes that this verse refers to one who is wicked: to help such a person is a way to achieve perfection of one’s soul and even to bring the wicked back to the path of goodness. R’ Yosef ibn Nachmies adds here that a person who is so steeped in goodness as to have reached this level of perfection should never despair of God’s mercy in respect of any puranut [translated above ass ‘retribution’ but in this context ‘disaster’] for which he has been destined.

Does this mean that a righteous nation should set about helping to restore the position of an evil enemy over which it has triumphed? I very much doubt it. My feeling is that this conclusion goes way beyond anything that Nittai HaArbeli might have contemplated. This mishnah addresses the individual, not the state, and the same must surely be said of R’ Yosef ibn Nachmies’ take on it.

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