Introduction: The Psychology of Giving and Taking
Welcome to our daily character refinement. We previously discussed the distinction between being a giver and being a taker. Even when a taker gives, he is ultimately taking, because his underlying motive is to receive something in return—he gives only to get back. Conversely, when a true giver takes, he is still giving, because his ultimate intention is outward-focused. For instance, if he does not eat, he will not have the strength to care for others.
Why We Resist Saying "Thank You"
Let us explore another dimension of taking in order to give. In Alei Shur (Volume 2, Page 21), Rav Shlomo Wolbe explains one of the root psychological causes of ingratitude: when I receive a favor or good deed from someone and acknowledge it, I become indebted to them. I feel an obligation to be grateful and to say thank you.
Why is that so difficult? Expressing genuine gratitude involves a subtle form of submission. After all, they provided for me, and I now owe them—a state of delicate vulnerability and humility. Even against this subtle submission, human nature tends to resist. We see this vividly in small children: when handed a piece of candy, they often snatch it and run away, avoiding the vulnerability of saying thank you.
Furthermore, the recipient of a favor is not merely expected to say thank you; they also become beholden to society, knowing that in time, they may be called upon to reciprocate when that person is in need. No one willingly seeks out such burdens. Consequently, human nature inclines a person to downplay the favor and act as though nothing was ever received.
The True Meaning of Kefirat Tovah
This is the deeper meaning of kefirat tovah (כפירת טובה)—literally "covering over the good." It is like placing a lid over a benefit so it remains hidden from view. That is why such a person is termed a kofer b'tovah (כופר בטובה), one who denies the good. It is comparable to a borrower who denies a loan: he knows he took the money, yet he refuses to repay it and claims he never borrowed at all.
This reveals a fundamental insight into our nature: we feel an instinctive discomfort with being beholden. That discomfort is often why people refuse to recognize goodness—they cannot bear the debt. While denying a favor entirely is not the path of a righteous person, the underlying aversion to indebtedness is universal.
Bestowing a Burden-Free Favor
Now let us consider the person who is not a kafui tovah. He recognizes and acknowledges the good, but he still carries the uncomfortable burden of receiving—especially if he is fundamentally a giver, because givers inherently dislike being on the receiving end.
To address this, Rav Wolbe cites Rav Yerucham Levovitz, who taught that whoever wishes to bestow a complete, untainted favor should ask the recipient for a small counter-gesture at the very moment of giving. For example, imagine you are giving someone a gift or an extra piece of furniture, and they come to your home to collect it. If you happen to be building your Sukkah and say, "Could you help me carry this plank up?", you relieve their sense of indebtedness. By asking for that small assist, you allow them to feel: "I just reciprocated in some way; the debt is lifted." The recipient immediately feels that the act was balanced and that they no longer carry an unpaid obligation.
The Midrash of the Sighted Guide
The foundation for this principle is found in the Midrash on Parashat Beha'alotcha. Hashem instructs Moshe that the Jewish people should bring pure olive oil for the Menorah—not because Hashem has any need for it, but "so that you may light for Me just as I lit for you."
The Midrash illustrates this with an analogy of a sighted person and a blind person walking along a road together. The sighted person says to the blind person, "Please, hold this lamp and guide me with its light, so you will not feel indebted to me for escorting you along the way."
In this parable, the sighted guide represents Hashem, and the blind person represents the Jewish people. Hashem illuminated our path and led us through the wilderness. Yet, when it came time to construct the Mishkan, He instructed Moshe to bring olive oil so the people could kindle the light. Hashem interacted with the Jewish people in a manner that bestowed a complete, burden-free kindness. By asking them to kindle the perpetual lamp, He allowed them to feel as though they were actively reciprocating His benevolence.
Here, the "taker" is actually the ultimate giver. The only reason Hashem "takes" the oil is to spare us the feeling of being helplessly beholden, thereby making His gift complete. Similarly, when a host giving away a sofa asks the recipient to help carry a plank of wood, that act of taking is not self-serving—it is an act of giving, engineered entirely to preserve the recipient's dignity.
Why We Were Created as Interdependent Beings
Rav Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler builds upon this dynamic of giving and taking, explaining that this is the very reason Hashem created human beings as social, interdependent creatures. We are not self-sufficient islands. If we were entirely independent, we would never face the moral choice between giving and taking, because there would be no one to give to and no one to receive from. Hashem deliberately designed the world so our spiritual growth and ultimate purpose hinge upon navigating this balance.
This concept connects directly to Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz's explanation of the Talmudic statement that three categories of people are considered "as if dead": one who has no children, an impoverished person, and a blind person (chashuv k'meit). Rav Chaim explains that the common thread among them is the severe restriction on their ability to give; circumstances compel them primarily into the role of a receiver.
- A person without children lacks the natural outlet to pass life and wisdom forward to the next generation.
- An impoverished person is constantly placed in the position of receiving charity.
- A blind person is often reliant on others for basic navigation.
They are likened to the deceased because their circumstances hinder them from easily fulfilling life's core purpose: the active choice to be a giver rather than a taker.
The Reciprocal Dignity of Receiving
Rav Dessler addresses an obvious question: if society is inevitably split between those who have and those who need, does that mean half of humanity is doomed to be takers?
He clarifies that receiving does not automatically make someone a taker. A person can receive without taking. The genuine giver, even when forced by circumstances to be a recipient, does not possess a taker's mindset. How does he reciprocate? Through hakarat hatov (הכרת הטוב)—an overflowing, genuine sense of gratitude. He repays his benefactor with heartfelt appreciation.
This truth is reflected in Megillat Ruth (2:19). When Naomi asks Ruth where she gathered grain and who extended kindness to her, Ruth responds: "The name of the man with whom I worked today is Boaz" (ham-ish asher asiti imo hayom Boaz). Commenting on this verse, the Midrash Lekach Tov notes: "More than the homeowner does for the poor person, the poor person does for the homeowner." By accepting the charity, the poor person affords the benefactor the merit of doing a mitzvah and earning a portion in the World to Come (Olam HaBa). Thus, even the recipient is actively giving back.
The Two Givers and the King's Verdict
A well-known Midrash in Bereishit Rabbah (33:1) relates a story of Alexander the Great visiting a remote kingdom to observe how its king administered justice. Two citizens came before the court with a dispute.
One man had purchased a plot of land from his fellow and subsequently discovered a hidden treasure buried within it. The buyer pleaded: "I bought the land, but I did not purchase the treasure; it rightfully belongs to the seller." The seller argued back: "When I sold you the land, I sold it with everything in it, from the depths of the earth upward. The treasure is yours."
The king asked the first man, "Do you have a son?" He answered yes. He asked the second, "Do you have a daughter?" She answered yes. The king then ruled: "Marry your children to one another, and let the treasure belong to both of them."
Alexander stood amazed. When the king asked how such a case would be resolved in his empire, Alexander replied, "I would execute both men and confiscate the treasure for the royal treasury."
The Midrash highlights an exceptional principle: when two genuine givers interact, neither is willing to unfairly benefit from the other. The righteous king recognized this dynamic and joined them as partners. When givers unite, they harmonize their giving and receiving, creating an ideal world.
Great Leaders and the Sensitivity to Ingratitude
Because the righteous cannot bear the thought of being mere consumers, Jewish history contains extraordinary accounts of gedolim (great Torah leaders) and their extreme sensitivity to hakarat hatov.
A personal encounter illustrates this vividly. During the final week of the life of Rav Michel Yehuda Lefkowitz, one of the premier sages of our generation, I was privileged to enter his room. He said to me words I will never forget: "Ani chayav lecha hakarat hatov"—"I owe you a debt of gratitude."
Why would a revered sage in his nineties say this to me? It was because our synagogue had supported Kollel Taharot, an institution he championed to study the neglected laws of ritual purity. Even at the end of his life, he viewed that assistance as a personal favor for which he remained indebted.
A similar sentiment is found in a famous incident involving Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach. On a freezing, rainy winter day, Rav Shach insisted that his grandson call a taxi to take him to a funeral in Tel Aviv. Concerned for his failing health, his grandson protested the harsh weather. Rav Shach was unyielding: "If you do not take me, I will take the public bus."
Upon arriving at the cemetery, Rav Shach walked behind the casket of an elderly woman in the pouring rain, holding an umbrella against the biting cold. When his grandson inquired about his connection to the deceased, Rav Shach explained that decades earlier, as a destitute yeshiva student during a harsh winter, he had no coat. This woman's late husband owned a garment shop, and following his passing, she brought coats to the yeshiva to distribute to needy scholars. Rav Shach had received one, allowing him to stay warm and immerse himself in Torah study.
Decades later, he braved the winter storm to escort her to her final rest. He told his grandson that he deliberately went out into the cold so he could physically recall what it felt like to freeze, ensuring his hakarat hatov to her was felt with the utmost authenticity.
The Ultimate Litmus Test
Ultimately, the litmus test for whether a person is truly a giver or a taker lies in how they feel when they receive:
- The taker views every benefit with entitlement, thinking: "Of course I received this; it was coming to me anyway."
- The giver feels fundamentally humbled, thinking: "I am not entitled to this favor, and I remain forever indebted with gratitude."