We're continuing our study of Eshet Chayil. We're in Pasuk (verse) Chaf (twenty). We're studying the urgency of chesed, of kindness, and the essential nature that kindness brings into our lives—much more than we can imagine.
We have been studying Megillat Rut. Hazal (the Sages) tell us that Megillat Rut was written to teach us just how much compensation there is for those who act and live a life of kindness. We learned that the Megillah begins not so much with kindness, but rather with those who did not respond when it came to kindness.
As we learned, Megillat Rut begins by talking about a very wealthy man named Elimelech. When there was a famine in the land of Israel, instead of stepping up and being there for the people who needed him, he went and lived in the fields of Moav. He basically moved to another country so nobody would bother him. There would be people waiting online. The Midrash (rabbinic teaching) says they'd be waiting online, asking him for food and help. He was someone they were relying on in a time of desperation. He understood that, and instead of stepping up, he ran away with his wife and two boys.
The Megillah begins by telling us about the destruction that took place in this man's life. He and his two boys died. That's how we start the Megillah. A Megillah that's meant to teach us about chesed and how awesome chesed is tells us that Ruth became the matriarch of royalty and the mother of Mashiach (Messiah), even though she wasn't even a Jew. She was a goyah (non-Jewish woman) from a nation that we are actually commanded to stay away from. But because of her excellence in the world of kindness, she was elevated above all the Jewish women and became the matriarch of royalty. There were many great Jewish women, but it seems that Ruth excelled in something above all, and that's what Megillat Rut—that's why it's written.
So before we share the great kindness of Ruth, the Megillah first begins with the disappointment of Elimelech, who would become her father-in-law. Before we discuss a few things that were unique about Ruth, I think it's a valid question to ask: Why would the Megillah, written to teach about kindness and how great it is—as the Midrash says—and how great the compensation is for la-gomlei chasadim, to those who do kindness, start with a story that basically shows the opposite? It's a story of a man who didn't step up and was punished, or didn't see a lot of good. Why is that the right way to start a Megillah that's teaching me about chesed?
It's important to know that the way Hashem designed the world, everything we see in it—even though we might say, “Oh, that's normal, that's natural, that's the way it is, it's always been that way”—we have to remember that before Hashem created the world, there was no world. No world means there were no people. No world means there were no feelings. No world means there were no feelings of happiness, no pleasures, and no givens. Basically, the Creator designed everything. Everything we see, everything we feel, everything we see in ourselves and others, was something He thought about. Nothing in your life, my life, or anyone's life is beyond what He designed and thought about.
One interesting thing we see in this world is that people like you and me are a lot stronger when we're worried about pain than when we're excited about something good. The power I have when I worry about something painful is greater than the power I have when I anticipate something good. For example, most people go to the dentist because they're scared of pain, even though it's healthy and good to have healthy teeth. But people generally don't go because they want healthy teeth. They go because they don't want the pain that comes with a mouth that's not taken care of.
So if I think about how good my teeth are going to be, maybe that can empower me to take care of them. But more so, if I think about how much pain I'm going to be in, I'll be a little more empowered to do what I have to do. The excitement for Olam Haba (the World to Come) doesn't give me as much power as the fear of Gehinnom (hell). It's not only in the next world; it's true of anything. Hashem created a world where fear of pain empowers a person more than anticipation of something good.
The question is, why did Hashem make the world that way? Why doesn't a person feel the power when they see good things coming into their life? Why doesn't that excite them as much, and why doesn't it empower them as much?
First, we have to build a few different levels to understand how Hashem designed the world. Number one: If people were able to see and feel the goodness of their actions and the results of what they would accomplish, there would be no free choice. For example, if a person could feel what it's like to be a Shomer Shabbat (one who observes Shabbat), even though they had never been Shomer Shabbat, if they knew what it would feel like in the future, there would be no free choice, because it would be so obvious that the person would definitely do it.
If a person could taste the sweetness of learning Torah before actually doing it—if they could take a taste test and say, “Oh wow, that's what this is, that's what it feels like”—then there would be no free choice. Every person would be learning, because the truth is, anyone who learns Torah and is really committed to Torah knows that it's very sweet. It's not, “Oh, I have to learn.” It's, “I don't know how I could put down the book.” The great people who have invested in learning Torah can't put the book down. It's not that they think, “Oh wow, they're so awesome. They don't stop learning.” They can't even imagine that they could do anything else. How come they're different from the other person who's struggling—“Should I learn? How much should I learn? I have 10 minutes. Should I do something else? Should I waste a few minutes?” What's the difference? The difference is that one tasted it and one didn't.
So if you taste it, the Or HaChaim says that if people tasted the sweetness of Torah, they would become Meshuggah. They would become crazy. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves. Sometimes a person is so happy about something that they don't know what to do. They just don't know how to handle it. That's how beautiful and tasty learning Torah is.
Again, Shabbat. I think many of us can definitely understand. I think every Shomer Shabbat Kehilchatah (according to Jewish law)—anyone who has invested in Shabbat—knows that the sweetest day of the week is Shabbat. The greatest day of the week is Shabbat. The tastiest day of the week is Shabbat. Shabbat is gorgeous on so many levels. It brings Ahdut (unity). It brings families together. It brings people to appreciate each other. We learn more on Shabbat. We eat better on Shabbat, we rest on Shabbat, and we worry less on Shabbat. When Shabbat comes, that's it; everything's over. We're in a new zone. Even the food tastes different on Shabbat.
Now, someone who never kept Shabbat, who grew up in a secular world or in a family that really didn't appreciate Shabbat, wouldn't be able to understand that feeling. It's not their fault; they never experienced it. Hashem did not make a taste test for mitzvot (commandments) and say, “Okay, here's what Shabbat tastes like. Here, take a bite. See if you like it.” If Hashem had done that, that would have been very nice. I would have done that. If I want to sell my product, I'd create a taste sample of each product. That's how they sell perfumes. Take a little sample, see if you like it, come back for more.
If I were selling my products, I would make sure to sample each item. Sample Shabbat, sample Tzniut (modesty). A woman who lives with Tzniut has a different life. People think Tzniut is only going to change the way they dress. It's so much more than the way a person dresses. It changes a person's life. It changes the way they think. It changes the things they worry about. It changes their priorities. They wake up differently; they sleep differently. A person who lives with Tzniut is a different person, but only if they actually practice it, if they're in it.
I would say, let's give people a sample: this is what a life of Tzniut tastes like. But Hashem did not do that. Hashem did not give us a taste sample of things we don't do. Why didn't He do it? How come I would do it and He didn't? I'm so much kinder than the Creator. The simple reason is that I'm ignorant. I would do it because I'm trying to sell the product. But Borei Olam (Creator of the World) is not trying to sell the product. He's trying to make us successful. If I'm trying to sell the product, I want him to buy it. So here, sample it. But if Hashem gave us a sample, there would be no free choice. We would do it because we had no choice, and then we wouldn't be able to accomplish anything, because we wouldn't be choosing.
If I give you something on the menu and say, “Here's the menu,” and you say, “Okay, you have one option: chicken,” that's not called free choice. “Okay, choose it. What do you want?” “Chicken.” That's not called free choice; it's the only item on the menu. And even if I say, “Oh, there are two items. One is this awesome piece of meat; one is stale old meat that's been around for three weeks. Okay, which one do you want?” That's also not a choice. For something to be a choice, there has to be a real option.
So if we're going to be accomplished people, people ask, “If Hashem loves us so much, why didn't He make us perfect? We could come out of the womb with all the Torah, the Mal'ach Torahs; we could actually keep it, we could retain it, and we would come out with the most beautiful Middot (character traits). We would be the kindest, the smartest, the most patient—we would be perfect. Hashem could make perfect things. Why didn't Hashem make us perfect? Look how He made us. We come out of our mother's womb selfish, angry, jealous, ignorant, and more. And that doesn't change automatically. A person could stay that way for the rest of his life. Why would Hashem do that? Hashem, don't you love us? Don't you want us to succeed? Why don't you just make us perfect? Why would you make us this way? Like the Pasuk says, a person is already ra (evil) from a young age. He has a pull, a magnet pulling him toward doing something bad. Why would Hashem make us that way?”
And the answer is: if Hashem made us perfect, then by definition it would mean we're not perfect. I know you didn't understand what I just said. If Hashem made us perfect, then by definition it would mean we're not perfect. Why? Because to be perfect, you can't be a taker. A taker is not perfect. A giver is perfect. Takers are not perfect. Shlomo HaMelech says, if you want to live a good life, don't be a taker. Sometimes you have to take, but don't be a taker. There's a big difference between taking and being a taker. They're not the same thing. Sometimes taking is giving. Someone gives you a gift, so you take it; that's called giving. You're giving them the satisfaction that you accepted their gift. But don't be a taker. Don't be a person who's looking to take from others: “When am I going to get this from my mother? When am I going to get this from my father? When am I getting an inheritance? When am I getting...” Don't be a taker.
A taker is not godliness. A taker is selfishness, and being a taker doesn't produce much of a person. If the Creator gave us perfection, then by definition it means we're not perfect, because that means our perfection came by taking. How can someone be perfect by taking? The only way perfection can happen is if we make it ourselves, like Hashem made His own perfection. Nobody gave Him perfection. Therefore, the only way we would become perfect is if Hashem gives us an opportunity to choose to become unselfish, even though our nature can make us selfish; to choose to become a person of wisdom, even though we can be ignorant; to choose all the beautiful things of life.
So in order to facilitate free choice, Hashem does not give samples of what it tastes like to do anything good. Any sample would be a home-run sale, but it would be such a home run that there'd be no free choice. So don't expect to taste the sweetness of anything Hashem tells you to do until you actually do it, whether it's Tzniut, Shabbat, Kashrut (Jewish dietary laws), or raising your children with the principles and values of Torah. There are different ways to raise children. Some children are raised with the values of the street and a little Torah, and some are raised with the values of Torah. It's a different world. It's a different child. It's a different home. You'll never be able to taste what it feels like to have a young boy or girl who has grown up and lives according to the values of Torah. You'll never taste that Nahat (pleasure) unless you're in it. There's no taste sample for anything Hashem tells us in life. Unless you're in it, you're not going to taste it—not because Hashem doesn't want you to do it, but because He needs you to do it. It can't be without free choice.
So that's number one. Once in a while, by the way, Hashem sends us inspiration, and inspiration is not a real taste. Inspiration is like this cloud where, for a second, we think about doing something, and then three minutes later it's gone. Hashem tries to help us a little bit, to inspire us to do something we're not yet doing.
Okay, that's number one. Hashem could not give us a taste of the sweetness of good things. So what? How does a person invest? How does a person invest in doing God's will, in following the Creator's direction? It's amazing; think about it for a second. A person is born into this world knowing nothing about it. They were just born into it; they don't have any experience. I'm talking about 14-year-olds, 15-year-olds, 18-year-olds. They know nothing about life. But somehow, when the Creator guides them and says, “Listen, let me tell you how to do it. This is how you go about bringing success into your life,” a person says, “No, I think I'm doing it my way. I think I'm going to do it a different way.” This makes no sense.
In the same way, you would never build a building without calling an engineer or an architect, because you know nothing about buildings. People know nothing about marriage. They get married; they know nothing about marriage. People are so worried about getting married, but not enough people are worried about being happily married. Why? How come? Because they assume, “What's the big deal? Marriage, what's the big deal? Easy, what could go wrong? What could be? I know everything. Getting married is all I need to do.” And boom, then you're thrown into the furnace, and you start realizing, “Oh no, I didn't think about this. How did this happen? Where did this come from? Did I do something wrong? Am I married to the wrong person?” All those questions could have been much more useful if they were asked when you were 15. But when we're 15, we don't think like that.
For some reason, Hashem made it so that we're able to be satisfied with what we know, never imagining what we don't yet know, as if we know everything. You have a child come into your life, so what do you do with him? What do you do? How many people are out there learning, calling, sweating to learn how to raise a decent child? Very few people. How come? Because they know. But how do you know? You never did it. How would you know if you don't learn?
Hashem gave us this confidence, this overconfidence, that makes us feel like we've figured it out. But there are people who actually invest in the words of the Creator. So I ask you: where would my energy come from to change something about myself? You know one thing about yourself: you like the way you are. You don't like change. You like your habits. You're comfortable with what you do. That's all of us. How would someone say, “You know something? I'm going to change”? If there were a taste test, then I would know why you would change, because you're tasting something and you want more of it. But now we're saying there's no taste test. So where would someone get the strength to say, “You know something? I'm going to make a change. I'm going to start doing it this way”? It's not so easy. We all know that. And every day you get older—not every week, every day you get older—it gets harder and harder and harder. When you were 15, it was hard. When you're 16, 17, it's harder; at 20, harder; at 30. The older you get, the more like a tree you are: you get harder and harder and don't have a chance to soften.
How would a person find the strength to change who they are? Everybody needs to change. People think, “Oh, you know who needs to change? The people growing up in a secular society.” Everyone needs to change. We all have to change. Nobody's perfect yet. If you think you're perfect, that's the biggest sign you're not perfect. You're not perfect. Be honest. Of course you can change, and we all need to change. What would life be if we all stayed the same?
Could you imagine a little baby saying, “No, I'm not walking”? What do you mean, you're not walking? “No, I'm happy the way it is. I like to be picked up. I like to be taken in a carriage. Why would I want to walk if people are carrying me?” I hear him, by the way. Make sense? You're getting service all day long. You ever see people complaining, “Oh, it's too far. I have to walk”? He never has to complain. Imagine your one-year-old tells you, “I like it. I'm good.” By the way, he does like it. He can't imagine what it's like to walk.
Imagine this conversation between you and your one-year-old. He's saying, “I don't understand. What do you want from me? What do you people want from me? You try—come, come, let's walk. Why do I want to fall? What are you doing? I'm very happy the way I am.” So what's the difference between you and him? The difference is you know how beautiful walking is. He doesn't.
So how would a person change themselves in really meaningful ways without the taste test of what it feels like on the other side? It's very hard to do that. I'm going into a world that, as far as I'm concerned, is dark. What does it feel like to keep Shabbat, really keep Shabbat? I don't know. If I learn the laws of Shabbat, it feels like I'm going into jail. Not just a regular jail with windows, but solitary confinement with four walls. You can't do this, you can't do that, you can't do this, you can't talk on the phone, you can't drive, you can't cook, you can't turn on lights. You can't even tell someone to do it for you. If I read all the laws of Shabbat, I'm certainly not getting a taste. If anything, I'm tasting bitterness. How would I be able to start doing that? How am I going to become a modest person when I don't know what that tastes like? The opposite: I see what it looks like. I see what it looks like on paper. I'm like, “What is this? Who would live like this? What is wrong with people?” That's how you would feel if you're out of it.
I'll give you a few examples, but they're not limited to these examples. Anytime you change something into something else, from the outside you're going to look in and say, “Why would I do that?” So why would a person do it? That's a question. It's a good question. Why and how would a person be able to change?
The answer is there's something called Emunah. Emunah is a place where the mind no longer is capable. Emunah comes in. Whatever I understand, I don't need Emunah for. Me and many of you do not need Emunah for the sweetness of Shabbat. I don't need Emunah for that. I taste it every seventh day. But where the mind isn't there yet—where I don't yet know about this Shabbat—I need something else. I use Shabbat as an example. It's called Emunah. Emunah says, “Yes, I don't know. I don't know. I really don't know. I have no idea what this is going to feel like. But I trust my father. My father told me that this is a good deal. If I trust my father, that's called Emunah.” What's giving me the strength to go into it? Here I am, going to invest a tremendous amount of money into something I know nothing about. Why am I doing it? Emunah. I trust my father. He would never hurt me.
Where the mind ends, Emunah can step in and replace the sweetness. Even if I don't taste it, if I have Emunah, it can get me there. And that's why the Pasuk says that change and growth in life can only happen with Emunah.
Therefore, a person who understands that he is the creation of the Creator, that Hashem made us, understands that He doesn't need us. He made us only because of His kindness. Not only did He make us. Every second, some people say, “Hashem, show me that you're here. Show me that I'm here.” Wait, are you blind? Every second of our lives, our entire makeup is given to us. No doctor could give us our breathing. No person can make our heart. No person could—I don't know about you, but did your thumb grow the wrong way? Mine did, because one finger went up. The second went up. Four fingers went up. And then the thumb decided to go left. And then the other hand, the same story. How did the thumb know to go the wrong way? And it didn't only happen to me. It happens to all of us. Wow. Incredible.
Now imagine your thumb were straight like the rest of your fingers. You'd be in big trouble. You wouldn't be able to grab. You wouldn't be able to do most of the things you do with your hand, because your thumb grew straight up. It's fortunate that our fingers have three parts: one, two, three. If they were one piece, we couldn't bend them. You know what it would be like to have a hand you can't bend? The Creator thought about every single detail in my life. Every single one. From my thumbs to my fingers to every part of my external and internal body. None of these things I could do. None. Zero.
I go to sleep at night. I know for a fact I'm not breathing because I'm sleeping, because when people talk to me, they can't even get my attention. So who's breathing when I go to sleep at night? Why am I not scared? “I can't sleep because who's going to breathe?” Because obviously someone is helping you breathe, and it has nothing to do with you. Every night is another reminder: it's not you. You're lucky to be in this world. You're fortunate to be alive, and there's someone taking care of you.
Now, a child only sees themselves. They don't see Hashem. They don't see their own parents. They don't see anybody. The whole world is about me. I don't even think about whether the child thinks, “Where do I get my dinner from? Did I thank my mother for that?” They don't think like that. An 18-year-old doesn't think like that. They feel, “What do you mean? It's coming to me.” A person can grow their whole life that way. It's no surprise. You could be 80 years old and not see the gifts of the Creator that you're receiving every second of the day. Literally, we could sit here for a hundred years and we wouldn't even scratch the surface of all the things we have.
Once a person recognizes that their life was given to them, that their pleasures were given to them, that anything they have in life was given to them by the Creator of the world, and now the Creator says, “Listen to me. Shabbat's good,” He doesn't even have to say Shabbat's good. He just says, “Just do this.” Of course it's good. Hasn't He proven enough to you and me that He wants us to enjoy life? He has. Did He have to make so many kinds of fruits? Go into a fruit store. We don't need fruits to survive. We could survive on oatmeal. We could have a pill every day, one pill, and that's all we need. Why do we need so many colors, so many tastes, so many textures? You walk into a fruit store; you can't believe it. Some people walk into a fruit store and say, “What a store,” and they can't stop talking about the guy who owns the store. You're missing the point. The guy in the store didn't make the fruits. You can give him credit for putting them out nicely, but do you understand what's going on in front of you? Every color you could imagine, every taste you could imagine, every kind—not just one apple. There are a thousand apples, literally over a thousand apples grown in the United States of America, a little different in size, texture, and taste.
I could survive without that. We could survive without spices. We'd be fine. We would eat pasta. It would be bland, and we would survive. No, Hashem says, “No. Life without spices, haram. How can I? I want you to enjoy it. You want this spice, you're in the mood for this one, you're in the mood for that one. You know how many spices there are?” Do you think spices were made by men? Hashem actually thought, “How can I bring my children even more pleasure?” It's not enough that they breathe and eat and are satisfied and all. How could they really enjoy it? And how are they going to have the same spice every day? So let's change it up. Today, we're going to do this one. Today, we're going to have that one. You can have pasta every day for probably a thousand years, and every day it could taste different. Salt, sugar—we would be fine without them. But life wouldn't be as enjoyable, and on and on and on. There's no end.
We could live without the scent of things that smell good. We could live; we could survive. No, Hashem doesn't want us to survive. He wants us to enjoy.
Now, you and I might think that the reason Hashem does this is because He wants us to enjoy. And the truth is, you're right. But there's an even greater reason. You know, good parents—when I say good, I don't mean as opposed to bad. I mean parents who know what they're doing and understand what it takes to raise happy, responsible, successful children. Good parents invest in their children not only to give them joy. Of course they like their children to enjoy themselves, but they invest in something even greater.
If I have proven to my son or daughter that I'm interested completely in their benefit, that it's not about me, I don't say things like, “After all that I did for you.” No, no, don't do that. If I can convince my son or daughter through my actions, my sacrifice, my talk, and the way I speak that my entire focus when it comes to them is them and their happiness, you know how I do that? When I know they don't like the kibbeh this way, I make it that way. Oh, they don't like the spaghetti that way? I make it that way. And I make sure to tell them, “Brother, I know you like it this way. I like it the other way, but I made it for you.” When I invest day after day in doing things only for them—not because I like them, but because I know they like them—then I see them enjoy it.
For many parents, that's enough: I got them to enjoy themselves. No. Great parents know that's only one thing they've accomplished. Actually, the most important thing is that their children have Emunah in them, because one day their children are going to need them, and one day they're going to need their advice, and they're not going to understand what they're saying. The parent is going to tell them, “No, you shouldn't do this,” and they're going to look at the parent and say, “Why not?” Or the parent will tell them, “You should do this,” and they'll say, “Why?” Now, what's going to give them the strength to do what the parent says? Not just because the parent said it, because the parent is more experienced and knows better. What's going to give them Emunah in the parent? Seeing, over the years, the parent's tremendous unselfishness and desire for only what's good for them. When they see that unselfishness, the parent is building their Emunah—not because the parent needs someone to listen, but because the children will one day need the parent. They're going to need advice from somebody. They're going to do things they may not understand, but they can't do it on their own. They need someone to believe in.
The Creator of the world invests in every kind of fruit, every kind of vegetable, every kind of spice, and every kind of anything, not just so that we can enjoy—which is also good—but for something even greater. He's building our Emunah in Him, because He knows that as we start living life, we're going to need His advice. If we're going to live according to our feelings, emotions, and ideas, good luck. You'll be in big trouble. The product of people who live life on their own is pretty well documented in the streets. Go into many homes and you'll see what it looks like to live a life on your own. The Creator knows the greatest gift He can give you and me is Emunah in Him—not because He needs you to trust Him. He doesn't need us. But the Emunah we have in Him is going to help us make every right choice: every right word to say, every word not to say, everything to be involved in, and anything we shouldn't be involved in.
When a person has Emunah in the Creator, they become connected to success. They don't need to taste the sweetness of Shabbat when they have Emunah in the Creator, who said, “You should do it.” They have that Emunah, which gives them the strength to do what's good for them even though they're not there yet.
So let's review. If the Creator gave us the taste test, there'd be no free choice. He can't do that. But if we develop our Emunah, that's our own accomplishment, our own free choice. Of course, you can live a life without Emunah. You can live blindly, close your eyes, and say it's all about me. It's a type of arrogance. It's a type of selfishness. It's a type of not realizing. You ever look at your children and say, “I don't understand. Say thank you. Call me. Say hello. Appreciate a little something.” And you say, “What, they don't realize? They don't see?” You know how many children actually think their parents hate them? It's not 10, and it's not 50 either. It's a pretty big number. Now you say, “What do you mean? How could they think that? What?” They don't see. They're blind. They don't see what I do for them. Do I do this for the neighbor? Do I go there for the cousin? What are you thinking? I don't make dinner for the block. Why wouldn't they see that? The answer is that a person can live with a mask over their eyes, and as clear as something is, they can choose not to see it.
And we are the same. We can choose not to have Emunah. We can choose to go into the store and say, “Wow, what a store. Let me call the owner and tell him how awesome he is, how kind he is, he's so sweet, he's so beautiful,” and forget the Creator who gave it to you. This could be a person's life forever unless they choose, unless they choose to have Emunah.
The choice to have Emunah means that I trust Hashem only does what's best for me. I can taste Shabbat before I even taste it. I know it's there. It's in the bank. I got it. If that power were very, very strong, again, we're back to square one. It would take away our free choice.
What happens when a person can't get their Emunah to get them where they need to go? Hashem created something else. He created the fear of pain. The fear of pain is for a lower level. Really, you should do things because they're good for you, because they're sweet for you. But sometimes that doesn't cut it, so Hashem made the fear of pain greater, so that even if you don't trust in the good things, at the very least you'll be afraid. You know how many people do the right thing because they're afraid of the alternative? They're scared about where their children will be, so they'd rather do the right thing, not because they want the right thing. They don't taste the right thing, and their Emunah isn't strong enough to get them there. But their Emunah could be strong enough—strong enough to make them scared that, God forbid, they'll be an alcoholic, a drug addict, this, or that. That's very scary. It takes less Emunah to be scared than it takes to enjoy the beauty of the future. Hashem did that on purpose, so that even if we don't feel that our Emunah can bring us to the taste, at the very least our Emunah can make us scared of the other side.
If that doesn't work, then there's actually real pain, where a person goes through pain, and hopefully that pain can wake them up. There are many different types of pain in life. Pain is a wake-up call. It gives people a wake-up to do things they couldn't do before. But it's not meant to be like that. A person shouldn't wait to get to that point. There's no need for it. Our Emunah is enough. You don't need to live a life scared of punishment or destruction. You don't need that. A person who lives with Emunah is living a very beautiful life.
That is why, although we're coming to discuss the beauty of kindness, the greatness of kindness, the sweet life of kindness—that's what Ruth's all about—what does the Pasuk begin with? Here's what happens to people who are selfish. Here is the story of the selfish Elimelech, who ran away instead of stepping up when needed. Why is that there? It's there to support the weaker person. The person who reads the story of Ruth and still doesn't have enough to get them to the sweetness—“My Emunah isn't getting me there”—can at least first see the other side. You may want to get onto the Ruth bandwagon not necessarily because of how great she became, but because you see the disaster of the alternative.
So the Megillah begins by giving a simple lesson: a person who lives a selfish life is living a life of destruction. Okay, that's how we start. Selfish living is a life of destruction. I have to repeat that again: selfish living is destruction. What does it mean? If you go visit someone every third week, that doesn't make you an unselfish person. Selfish living means your whole life is about you.
You know, one time there was a Talmid (student). He came to the Rabbi and said, “Rabbi, I have to talk to you.” “What happened?” the Rabbi asked. He said, “My learning is not so good. My tefillah (prayer) is not so good. My middot are not so good. My laziness. My—” The Rabbi told him, “Listen, you have a big problem.” He said, “Rabbi, I know. That's why I came to you. I have more than one problem.” The Rabbi said, “No, you have one big problem. You're only worried about yourself. It's my learning, my tefillah, my, my. Is there any room somewhere? Are you worried about anybody else in your life? Is there someone else you're worried about, someone else you're thinking about?”
A life of selfishness is a life where a person is totally focused on themselves. When you're fully focused on yourself, it's a recipe, it's ingredients for destruction. A person needs to expand their life. They need to call friends, if that makes them feel better, call their parents, and look for opportunities to give someone something they need. Maybe a compliment. Maybe a little note, maybe a text message. Be on the lookout for people who might need you wherever you go. Even if you don't find anyone, even if you walk home from here to your house and don't find a soul, you can still be living unselfishly. How? As long as you're looking for the opportunity, as long as you're walking into a room and asking yourself, “What is it that I can do for somebody here?” As long as you're walking down the street anticipating something you could do for someone, even something that will take a second, that means your entire view of things is about others. Nobody came your way; it doesn't matter. Your eyes are open this way.
When people think about themselves all day long, they become sick. They start worrying; they become sad. I don't want to say it with such confidence because I'm not so confident, and I don't want to get personal, but I'm very, very sure—almost a hundred percent—that many of the mental sicknesses people suffer from are because they're thinking about themselves all day long. When you think about yourself all day long, you're going to find a lot of issues, a lot of things to worry about. You have this worry, that problem, this problem. We have to turn the camera. Today they have phones where the camera can look at you or at others. It's a good Musar (ethical lesson).
When we are born, the camera is focused only on us, and everything is about us. Even when we see someone, it has to do with me. Even when I give something to someone, eventually I'm thinking about me. It's all about me. And a person can stay more or less the same way for the rest of their life. Hashem forces us along the way—literally forces us, if we're lucky to get married—to think about somebody else. But at some point that becomes selfish too, because now the other person becomes you, so now it's about you. It's the same thing. You and your husband are the same person. And then He forces us again, if we're lucky to have a child, to do things for someone else. But again, at some point it's also useless, because at some point the child becomes me, and anything he does is no longer selfless. It's one and the same.
When I buy a ticket for my son to travel, I don't say, “Oh, I bought a ticket for me and my son.” It's me. It's the same thing. But Hashem forces us at different times in life to step out of our turn, to turn the camera the other way. But it's meant not just to be a practice in itself. It's meant to open up our life. It's a very different kind of life.
It's not the American way. It's not. The American way is very much, “To each his own. I don't bother anybody. As long as I don't bother anybody, I don't hurt anybody, I'm good.” In this country, if you lived your whole life and didn't bother anybody, they give you a medal. They'd say you're like someone from the Nobel Peace Prize. “You never fought with your neighbor?” “Never fought with my neighbor.” No? But the Torah says that living a life where you don't bother anybody, but it's all about you, is destruction. You're not getting any prizes. “I didn't bother anybody.” But that's not what life is about—not bothering people. You have a mission, and there is no greater mission than to be an unselfish person.
And that's not something you do on Friday mornings or Shabbat afternoons. When do you do your chesed hours? When do you do it? Here we do chesed hours. “I do chesed on Monday morning at 10 o'clock.” What about 11 o'clock? “No, I don't do chesed.” People ask all the time, “So how can I do more chesed?” Are you kidding? Every second of your life can be chesed. How can you do more chesed? It's a silly question. There's nothing to do. It's who you are. Every time you see someone, you put the lens the other way and ask yourself, “So what can I do?” Maybe you can't do anything, but if you ask yourself whether the lens is focused on the people in your life, or waiting to be focused on them, you're a star.
That's Ruth. Ruth is the matriarch of royalty, the matriarch of Mashiach. Wow, the matriarch of Mashiach. What do you have to do to be the matriarch of Mashiach? How many times do you have to finish Tehillim every day to achieve that? Surprisingly, the Midrash says no. The whole Megillah of Ruth is meant to teach you—and “teach you” is not talking about ignorant people. “Teach you” is talking about the person who went to school, went to yeshiva, knows Torah, understands everything—that there are a lot of beautiful things about a person. How awesome is the life of those who live unselfishly, those who live a life of chesed. Instead of focusing on their problem, they focus on somebody else's problem. Instead of asking, “What do I want?” ask yourself, “What possibly can I do for somebody else here?” It's a whole different way of life.
This way of life is the seed of Mashiach. Mashiach is someone so special, so great. What makes that? Gomlei Chasadim, those who do kindness. It's something to think about. It's something to worry about.
On one hand, living a life without kindness is destruction. By the way, you may have a little destruction in your life and not know where it comes from. That's one of the secrets of the Creator: He can bring destruction into a person's life. Destruction doesn't mean your whole life is destroyed. Destruction means you have problems, you have issues. Who doesn't have problems? When you have something destructive, if Hashem made it obvious that it was because of your selfishness, then there'd be no free choice again. So Hashem doesn't make it so clear. But you can be very, very, very confident that, for the most part, things that are destructive in a person's life come from a person whose camera is very much on themselves. That produces destruction. It's destruction at all ages, in all situations. You may say, “No, can't be, it's not true.” Okay, up to you.
But this Megillah makes that point right at the beginning: selfishness. What did Elimelech do wrong? He didn't kill anybody. He didn't hurt anybody. He didn't steal from anybody. He didn't bother anybody. He's a good man. Okay, he didn't help people. “Oh, the Megillah says, you don't help people out? Destruction.” We may not see it that way, but the Megillah makes that point very clear. Destruction comes from selfishness. And then the flip side: look what happens to Gomlei Chasadim. Look where they end up. Look where they become strong. It's a strong message from Megillat Rut, but it's a relevant message. It's a message you could live with the minute you walk out of this class, the minute you finish this. Okay, let's turn the camera. That's all you have to do. Turn the camera. I know I have a lot of issues. I know I'm dealing. Turn the camera. It's liberating, it's exciting, and it's fulfilling, and it's the way to live life to the fullest.