One day some years ago, I was walking along a main street in
downtown Jerusalem, when the sole of my shoe suddenly became
unstuck. The heel was still there, so the sole did not break
free entirely. It just flapped back and forth. There I stood,
ruefully contemplating my damaged shoe. What would I do now?
How could I proceed with my morning's plans? How could I even
get home? At that point, a total stranger came up to me. He
opened his James Bond case, extracted some small items, and
handed them to me with a smile. I muttered some thanks. He
smiled again, more broadly this time -- and was gone.
He had handed me three thick elastic bands. With them, I
attached the sole of my shoe to the uppers, and continued
with my program for the day.
Gemillus chassodim -- kindness -- takes many forms, I
thought. I had been the recipient of real charity. This man
had truly helped me. There was nothing in the world I had
needed more at that moment than thick elastic bands to bind
around my shoe.
But I believe that while this stranger did me a favor, I did
him one too. I think I made his day. Rarely, I suspect, had
he done so much chessed, just like that, on the spur
of a moment. Seldom, if ever, have I end gendered a smile of
such pure happiness as the one that I generated in that man
that day.
On another occasion, the boot was on the other foot, so to
speak. I was sitting on a Jerusalem bus, on an inside seat by
the aisle. An elderly lady got on the bus. Knowing there were
seats behind me, I did not get up. But then the bus suddenly
began to move. It lurched forward and the lady began to fall.
I have never regarded myself as having fast reactions, but
this time something happened outside myself. Quick as a
flash, my arm went out and I caught her, and stopped her from
falling. She thanked me profusely, of course, but I did not
need any thanks. The knowledge that I had not failed someone
during their hour -- or second -- of need was all the thanks
I needed. Throughout that day, my arm hurt me, and I enjoyed
that hurt. It was my secret badge of honor.
I felt a special sensation of gratitude that I had been there
just at the right time. A second earlier, and she would not
yet have been near my seat. A second later, and she would
already have passed behind me. How often am I granted the
chance to do such a kindness? A kindness was done to me that
I was able to do this chessed!
Gemilus chassodim is a reciprocal situation that comes
in many forms. Some of them are major enough to have category
titles all of their own and do just come under that
particular heading. One of these is hachnossas orchim,
extending hospitality.
Probably the most famous host of all times was Avrohom Ovinu,
and it is with reference to him that the Torah mentions the
world AiSHeL, the Hebrew acronym of eating, drinking and
lodging (or accompaniment). Hospitality, of course, involves
much more than that. It involves making the guest feel
welcome. We must try to provide him with company, if that is
what he needs. We must grant him peace and quiet -- in the
event that that is what is most important to him. And often,
nowadays, we need to furnish explanations of what we are
doing and why.
In AiSheL: Stories of Contemporary Jewish Hospitality,
we encounter fourteen tales of late 20th Century-style Jewish
hospitality of a kind that our ancestors never knew.
I shall not spoil the book by summarizing them. But one thing
I shall reveal. The guests seem to have felt good -- but the
impression one gains is that often the person who benefitted
the most was the host.
