True Chesed: Giving What the Other Person Needs
Welcome to our daily class on character refinement. Today, we are exploring the concept of chesed (loving-kindness), and specifically what it means to give another person what they truly need.
Sometimes, what a person needs most is actually the opportunity to do you a favor. By doing that favor, they feel better about themselves. Consider a dinner guest who offers to make a cake, bring a salad, or help with preparations: participating allows them to feel far less beholden.
In Alei Shur (Volume 2, Page 281), Rav Yerucham Levovitz explains that if you want to perform a complete act of kindness for someone, you should ask the recipient to do something small in return. That way, they feel they have reciprocated and will not walk away burdened by a sense of indebtedness.
The Menorah and the Parable of the Blind Man
This principle originates in a Midrash that explores why Hashem commanded us to light the Menorah in the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple), given that He is the ultimate Source of light. Hashem explained that the command to prepare and kindle the oil was not out of personal need, but out of love: "I want you to light for Me, just as I lit the way for you."
The Midrash illustrates this with a parable of a sighted man guiding a blind companion along a journey. When they finally arrive home, the sighted guide turns to the blind man and asks, "Please, light a candle for me." The blind man is puzzled: "Why would you need me to light a candle when you were the one leading me the entire way?" The guide's intention was entirely benevolent—to give his friend the dignity of contributing, so he would not feel completely dependent.
In the same way, the Jewish people are symbolized by the blind traveler, and HaKadosh Baruch Hu is our guide. He asks us to light a candle for Him so that we feel like active participants.
This mashal extends to our entire existence. Hashem structured the world so that it feels as though our actions matter to Him, as the verse states: "Tenu oz L'Elokim"—give strength to God. He framed our service and prayers as essential needs, not out of any lack, but out of ultimate kindness: so that after 120 years, a person enters the World to Come without the pain of eating the "bread of shame" (nahama d'kisufa). Hashem allows us to feel necessary, capable, and involved.
When Giving Means Receiving
Sometimes, offering someone a favor means asking them for one. If an individual in shul feels unfulfilled, without direction or purpose, you can do them an immense service simply by saying, "Could you help organize these books? Could you take care of this task?" Offering someone a volunteer responsibility—even one without pay—restores their sense of dignity and purpose.
Giving is often receiving. We see this dynamic in the laws of Kiddushin. Under standard circumstances, a woman must receive an object of monetary value—such as a ring or a coin—to effect betrothal, accompanied by the declaration, "Harei at mekudeshet li" ("Behold, you are sanctified unto me"). However, the Gemara notes an exception involving an adam chashuv (an eminent, distinguished person).
If a woman presents a gift, such as an etrog, to an adam chashuv, the fact that he graciously accepts it provides immense satisfaction and honor to the giver. Because the pleasure she derives from his acceptance has genuine value, the adam chashuv can say, "Behold, you are sanctified unto me through the benefit you received by my accepting this from you." The betrothal is valid because his willingness to receive was itself a gift of real value.
The Vizhnitzer Rebbe: Anticipating the Unspoken Void
Discerning what another person truly needs requires a keen, sensitive eye. Two stories—one regarding the Vizhnitzer Rebbe and another about Rav Shach—illustrate this beautifully.
The Vizhnitzer Rebbe, Rav Moshe Yehoshua Hager, once attended the wedding of a follower and stayed much longer than usual. When he prepared to leave, he instructed his gabbai (attendant) to inform him the moment the wedding ended. The festivities concluded in the early hours of the morning, after the mitzvah tanz.
At 4:00 AM, the gabbai notified the Rebbe. The Rebbe reached out to the father of the bride—either by phone or in person—and spent twenty minutes asking detailed questions: "How many guests arrived? Who came later in the evening? How was the photographer?"
Seeing this, the gabbai could not contain his curiosity. The Rebbe explained: "This chasid just married off his tenth and youngest child. Usually, when parents return from such a milestone, husband and wife sit together and reminisce over the band, the guests, and the celebration. But this chasid is a recent widower. Imagine the pain of returning to an empty home with all his children grown and married, with no one to relive the wedding with. I wanted to be the one to listen."
Rav Shach: Listening Beyond the Question
Rav Meir Tzvi Bergman shared a related incident in his weekly leaflet, Shaarei Orah (Parashat Lech Lecha), marking the yahrtzeit of his father-in-law, Rav Elazar Menachem Man Shach.
Late one night, Rav Shach stayed awake as though waiting for a visitor. Eventually, there was a knock at the door. Rav Bergman stepped forward to answer, but Rav Shach went himself, gently saying, "Step aside; this matter concerns me personally."
A young woman stood at the doorway. Rav Shach stepped outside into the hallway and spoke with her privately for some time. When he returned inside, noticing Rav Bergman's curiosity, he explained:
"That young woman lost both of her parents. She studies at the Or HaChaim seminary under Rabbi Pardo and was recently presented with a shidduch proposal. Having no parents to consult, she came to ask me whether she should proceed. I answered her question, and the meeting was arranged. However, after every date, a young person returns home to discuss the encounter with their parents—what went well, what caused concern, and how they felt about the prospect. She has neither a father nor a mother to return to. Therefore, I told her, 'After your date, come back here and tell me how it went.'"
Reflecting on the encounter, Rav Bergman observed that Rav Shach did not stop at answering the technical question. He perceived the underlying void. The young woman did not simply need guidance; she needed a listening ear, a home to return to, and a parental presence to soften the absence of her parents.
Seeing Beyond the Surface
True chesed means looking past what is visible on the surface. When someone approaches you, look with open eyes to identify what they genuinely need—not merely what you wish to give them. Cultivating that level of perceptiveness requires genuine selflessness and an authentic concern for the emotional well-being of others.
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