Universal Kindness

In parashat Re'eh, the Jewish nation is poised on the banks of the Jordan, ready to enter the Promised Land. Here, at the threshold of their national destiny, Moshe their leader delivers an epic farewell oratory. The speech is more than a review of their past; it is a vision of their future. Moshe focuses upon the laws that have particular relevance to the national and civil aspects of communal life. It comes as no surprise that Moshe exhorts the Jews regarding laws such as charity. However, he also reviews the foods Jews may eat, and those from which they must abstain. How do the laws of kashrut relate to the nation as a whole?

The food we ingest becomes part of our bodies. In the most literal way possible, what we intake is the source of our energy. Every word spoken, every lifted finger, is powered by what we have eaten. And so, a Jew is careful of what he eats and how he eats it. The commentators discuss many kosher and non-kosher animals, pointing out traits that are desirable or undesirable, to help explain their kosher status.

However, Rabbi Wollenberg from England points out in an article on this week's parsha, one non-kosher animal seems to have a positive trait. The Talmud explains that the stork, called chasidah, is so named for its propensity to do chesed, kindness towards its own kind. This seems like an emulable trait; why is the stork forbidden?

The Kotzker Rebbe explains: the stork engages in acts of kindness towards its own kind. However, this kindness does not extend to those outside the stork's family. The rabbi from Kotzk says that it is not enough, and we may not ignore those outside our circles.

On the face of things, this answer seems like quite a beautiful lesson. However, if we examine the laws of charity, we find that (ב"מ ע"א) "aniyei ircha kodmim": when giving tzedaka, we are responsible first for our own families, then for our own town, then our own city. The laws of charity seem to agree with the kindness of the stork! How can the Kotzker call kindness directed towards one's own kind "unkosher", when that is precisely what the halacha seems to require?

The answer to this question can be found in a subtle distinction between the two. In the laws of charity, the closer circles to a person take precedence. It is not that one may cease to give charity after his own are satisfied. The halacha simply informs us of the proper order. Loving-kindness begins at home, but in no way does it stop there. The light and benificence of the Torah emenates forth and eventually envelops the world. This is in stark contrast to the stork, who the Talmud tells us, limits its kindness exclusively to its own.

It is one of the hardest tasks in our lives not only to do good, but to do ordered good. Order, seder, gives structure to our actions, and allows them to be, not only good now, or in an hour, but in twenty years. My father-in-law often tells me that this is a lesson he received from Rabbi Tessler, of blessed memory: ensure that the good you do is true good, not superficial good. When we order our priorities, we are able to ensure that no good goes undone, while at the same time, none is decayed by exaggeration or neglect.

In one of Rav Kook's pieces of poetry, his 'שיר מרובע', he describes the passage of a man from his concern over his personal redemption, to an interest in Jewish National redemption. From there, the protagonist finds a higher plane of redemption, that of all Mankind. Finally, he ends by finding the ultimate redemption, the redemption of the Universe, and the validation of Creation.

Rav Kook in this poem is not describing layers of consciousness that replace each other. He is rather speaking about maintaining four discrete views in harmony, allowing each to influence and vitalize the other properly. The song is of wisely choosing from a blending of the four perspectives that which best suits whatever situation one experiences.

In Moshe's time and today as well, the transition from desert to Israel is one in which the Jews are tasked with taking the physical and spiritual midbar and converting it to a gan Hashem. Upon entry to Israel, a group of individuals begin the task of building a healthy national home. The rights of the individual and the needs of the community will come into conflict more and more. How are we to properly provide each with their just desserts?

The only way to do this correctly is to maintain different perspectives, individual, national, global and universal. We may not stop at any point, as the stork does. We must recognize the priorities set, but not lose ourselves within their details and waypoints. Thus the chasidah gives way to true chesed, and the individual finds his place not by being erased or lost in the group, but by being given his proper place within the community.

Kashrut, then, provides deep lessons for a nation building a state. The teachings imparted certainly are relevant to the Jews at the doorway to Israel.