Just DO it

They pull at my heartstrings. They follow me wherever I go. Somehow they know where to find me. And they are silent. Their words are unnecessary, for their eyes do the talking.

They say that eyes are the window to the soul. Well, their soul talks to my soul, and my heart bleeds at what I see there. I want to cry, because it hurts me. I want to scream at G-d, because of the injustice of it all. My hand reaches towards my pocket, hesitates- and then I walk away.

You know what I'm talking about because you've seen them too. They are everywhere. On street corners, in the mall, on sidewalks. Some look clean and put together, while others seem to have all their life's possessions in a bundle by their feet, and look like they havn't eaten in days.

Some people avert their eyes, and rush by as if they didn't see them at all. Unfortunatly, because there are so many of them, we have become immune to them, and people really don't notice they are there. Other people do stop and give something, a coin or two.

I see them. Even if I avert my eyes, I see them because they are hard to miss.

There's a picture in front of me of Rabbi Nachman M'Breslov. He has his hands up in the air, palms out, as if begging us to do teshuva. When I see beggers, this is what I see. They may be sitting there quietly, but in my mind they are screaming and crying for me to help them. How can I turn them away? How can I abandon them in their time of need?
'Simple', a voice inside me answers. 'Just walk away.'

And sometimes I do. on a day when my conscience allows me, I mumble something about not having any change on me, trying not to think about the fat hundreds sitting in my wallet. In the space of two seconds, a battle is being fought in my head. 'Well I don't really want to break up a bill. Plus, I already gave tzedaka this morning before davening. So really I'm not a bad Jew, I already did my part.' One side has won.

And then I can go on my merry way, with a clear conscience, reassuring myself that I'm a good person, and I'm not going to go to hell, contrary to what the lady was screaming after me as I walked away.

But it does hurt me. Because I have, and they don't. At the end of the day, I have a warm bed to go back to, with food, and clothes, and even extra things. While these people are not as fortunate as I am. Some don't have homes, and resort to sleeping on park benches. Some have families to support, small childrern who are hungry and have no food. They wait to see what their father will bring them at the end of the day. They rely on him for their livelyhood, and due to certain circumstances, he relies on good people like you and me for his livelyhood.

By giving him money, you are putting food into his mouth, keeping him alive. By not giving him, you are potentially killing him. With that thought in mind, how can you not give?

When I stick my hand in my pocket to take out money, they sense it. I have in mind to give only one person, but suddenly twelve pairs of eyes are staring at me, watching my every move.

Do I have to give everone? Do I have to empty my pockets and give them all I have because they need it and I don't?

I don't know.

I question G-d, and the system he created. In an ideal world, everyone would have enough, whatever they need. There would be no rich people, or poor. We would all have an equal amount. There would be no mitzvah to give tzedakah, because no one would have a need, no one would be lacking. Just one less mitzvah, 612. Imagine that.

It was tried before. It didn't work. In Russia, one man got up and tried to make everyone equal. They had a slogen: "All men are created equal". But some are more equal then others. There are always those who want more. They aren't happy being comfortable. They want to be filthy rich, rolling in money. And they don't want to be 'equal'. They want to be better, or they feel inferier.

G-d was right. He is always right. If everyone was equal, the world would be a boring place. Rich people would have nothing to do all day, and they wouldn't be able to give away millions of dollors to charity, and feel good about themselves.

So G-d made levels. Those that have, and those that don't. Those that need, and those that give. He gave us a commandment to give, and left it up to us to even things out, for the rich to make sure the poor are provided for.

Poor people are not exempt from this mitzvah, merely because they don't have anything, and rely on others. And I am not a rich person. At times, I to rely on others for money. So does it make sense that we all have an equal commandment?

G-d commanded me to give, so thats what I must do. At the end of the day, its not up to me to worry if others are doing their job or not. I didn't make the rules, I just play by them. I need to give as much as I can, and not worry about the rest. To what extent do I have to give? I don't know.

'But what if the person doesn't really need the money?' I've heard this question many times before, and it bothers me. People have told me, 'you shouldn't give to this person because they are not Jewish/ they don't really need the money/ they use it for drugs.

I ask them how they know that. And if its true, who are you to judge them? Who am I to decide if this person is worthy of my money or not? I need to give because G-d told me to, and thats it. G-d put this person in my path for a reason. And if they don't really need the money, just the fact that they are lowering themself to beg shows that they need it in whatever way.

I don't have all the answers, but I know one thing.

You may not have money to give, but you have the ability to feel. If you become immune to someone in pain, someone who needs your help, then in truth, you are worse off then them.

If you walk by a begger and don't give him money, thats between you and G-d. But if your conscience doesn't bother you, if your heart doesn't hurt for them, even a little bit, because f their plight, then you have a problem.

Purim is coming up. now is the time to think about someone else, other than yourself. Open your hand and your heart, and just give.

Shimshon Stock, z''l, used to sit outside his house on purim, with his infamous black box, collecting money for families in need. He had a well known saying: 'Take out your wallet, take out a dollar, and give me the rest.'

Shimshon's holy soul was taken from us on purim, two years ago. He cared so much about other people, and G-d ironically chose to take him on this happy day. He was a very special person, and though I didn't know him that well, I miss him, because there is one less good soul in the world.

I'm sure this purim he'll be sitting up there, laughing and celebrating, and keeping an eye on his black box, watching it fill up with money.

I walk by someone less fortunate then I am. Their eyes follow me, their heart talks to my heart. I hurt inside, and I want to help them. I want to give everyone, to eliminate all suffering from this earth. But I know that isn't possible. So I give as much as I can, and hope that I have done my part.

Give, because G-d commanded you to. Give, because they need it. Give, because it makes you feel good. There are many reasons why we should give.

But remember one thing. If you stop giving, or feel you can't give, never stop caring, never stop feeling. Because the second your heart turns away, the second we stop hurting for others, I question, what has the world come to? How have we fallen so low?

Open your pockets, open your hearts, and give.

Just DO it.