One of the fundamental problems troubling those involved in providing welfare services, whether as individuals or as part of the public system, is the issue of the recipient’s participation in and attitude towards the assistance extended to him.  There is, of course, no disagreement that it is preferable to involve the recipient in the process of and responsibility for providing for his own needs.  In countless cases, however, the recipient appears not to be working as hard as he can, preferring rather to cast the burden upon others.  In such circumstances, a piercing question arises: To what degree and by what means should we press for the increased participation of the recipient of aid, and to what extent is it possible to condition the extension of assistance on his readiness to share the burden? Regarding this point, opinions differ, and Judaism’s position on the matter must be clarified.

 

            The search for an answer will initially be directed, of course, to the halakhic sources, but it will be quickly discovered – and this fact in itself demands investigation – that the fundamental sources in which an answer might be found, whether in the writings of Chazal or in the works of the poskim, are exceedingly meager.  There are, indeed, limitations that determine who is fit to receive charity.  The Mishna in Pe’a states: “One who has two hundred zuz must not take gleanings, forgotten-produce, field-corner produce, or poor man’s tithe.”[1] This standard, which applies to agricultural gifts to the poor, was codified as law with respect to charity as well, and was translated into buying power by several Rishonim: “Some [authorities] say that these standards applied only in their [Chazal’s] day, but today one may take [charity] as long as one does not have capital from which to support oneself and one’s household from the profits thereof; and this is a well-reasoned position.”[2]   This limitation does not, however, resolve our difficulty.  First of all, it is restricted to tzedaka (charity) – that is to say, monetary assistance – and does not relate to assistance falling into the category of gemilut chasadim (acts of kindness) that must be extended to “both the poor and the rich.”[3] Second, while it provides a test of means that excludes the “rich” from receiving charity, it does not offer any guidelines on how to relate to one who qualifies for charity because he is poor.[4]

 

            More directly related to our issue is a Tannaitic dispute that appears to reflect different attitudes towards the matter at hand:

Our Rabbis taught: “Lend” (Devarim 15:8) – this [refers to someone] who has nothing and does not wish to be supported [from charity], to whom we give [money] as a loan, and afterwards we give [it] to him as a gift.  “Surely lend him” (ibid.) – this [refers to someone] who has [resources of his own] but does not wish to support himself [from them], to whom we give [money] as a gift, and afterwards we collect [it] from him after his death.  [These are] the words of Rabbi Yehuda. 

But the Sages say: [If] he has [resources of his own] but does not wish to support himself [from them], we are not bound to [help] him.  How, then, do I explain “surely lend him”? The Torah spoke in the language of people [and we cannot infer anything from this phrase].[5]

We see that according to Rabbi Yehuda a person who has means that he does not wish to exploit is still defined as a needy person who must be treated and granted aid – and this seems to derive from the mitzva of tzedaka, not only from gemilut chasadim – though he does not acquire the charity money permanently.  His situation is similar to that of a person who is stuck on the road without any money, about whom Rabbi Eliezer ruled that “if a property-holder was traveling from place to place and in need of taking gleanings, forgotten-produce, field-corner produce, or poor man’s tithe, he may take them, but when he returns home he must repay them.”[6] According to the Sages, however, the fact that a person “has resources of his own” in and of itself exempts others from all responsibility to take care of his needs – at least, in the framework of the mitzva of gifts for the poor. 

 

Despite the striking difference in attitude reflected in this dispute, it does not suffice to resolve our question, for we must define the term “someone who has resources of his own.” Rashi explains: “[This means] someone who has resources of his own, but does not want to support himself from his own resources, but rather from charity, and he afflicts himself with hunger.”[7] Rambam sharpens the point: “A wealthy person who starves himself, and is miserly about his assets, not to eat or drink from them – we do not concern ourselves with him.”[8] This formulation was codified as law in the Shulchan Arukh.[9] We appear to be dealing with a miser who prefers to save and starve – or to take from charity – rather than use the resources already in his possession.  Despite all the criticism that may be leveled against a passive person who takes no steps to help himself, he certainly cannot be compared to a person of means who mortifies himself.  Even one who maintains that the latter is responsible for his lot[10] can require the extension of assistance to the former.

 

            A clearer source relates to a mitzva that involves not tzedaka but gemilut chasadim – perika and te’ina (“unloading and loading,” the positive commandment to help another person unload an animal that has fallen under its load, or to help the master reload the animal that has fallen): “[If the owner] went and sat down and said: ‘Since the commandment is upon you, if it is your wish to unload, unload,’ he is exempt, as it is said: ‘With him’ (Shemot 23:5).”[11] This case parallels our question; but the talmudic passage is unclear as to whether this limitation is unique to the mitzva of perika and te’ina, based on the Scriptural decree “with him,” or whether it embodies a principle that is valid regarding the provision of assistance in general.

 

            In his commentary to the Torah, Keli Yakar, Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim Luntshitz adopted the second position.  The verse reads, “If you see the donkey of him that hates you lying under its burden, and would forbear to unload it (ve-chadalta me-azov lo), you shall surely unload it with him” (Shemot 23:5).  As opposed to Rashi, Keli Yakar understands that the word ve-chadalta grants an allowance not to offer assistance:

 

Therefore it says “and would forbear to unload it,” because the word “lo” does not mean “with him,” and [therefore we infer that] you are permitted to forbear helping him when he refuses to join you in the task.  This is an answer to some of the poor among our people who cast themselves on the community and refuse to do any work, even if they are able to engage in certain work or in some other endeavor that will bring food to the table, and they complain if they are not given whatever they are lacking.  For God did not command this, but rather, “You shall surely unload it with him,” and “you shall surely help him to lift them up again” (Devarim 22:4).  For the needy person must do whatever is in his power to do, and if, despite all his efforts, he fails to earn a living, then every man in Israel is obligated to support and strengthen him, and to provide him with whatever he is lacking, and unload even a hundred times.[12]

 

            As opposed to Keli Yakar’s certainty about this issue, we find that one of the Rishonim, the Meiri, was in doubt about the matter.  In the course of a discussion regarding a talmudic discussion in Kiddushin, he mentions the two possibilities raised above, without deciding between them.  The Gemara there states that if a man says to a woman, “Be betrothed to me with this loaf of bread,” and she tells him to give it to a dog, she is betrothed to him only if the dog is hers, for only then is she regarded as having derived benefit from the dog’s eating.  In the continuation, the Gemara raises the following question, which it leaves unresolved: “Rav Mari asked: What if the dog was pursuing her? [Do we say that] in return for the benefit of saving herself from it she resolves and cedes herself to him; or perhaps she can say to him, ‘By Torah law you were indeed bound to save me’?”[13] On this, the Meiri comments:

 

If a dog was pursuing her in order to bite her, the validity of her betrothal is in doubt.  For perhaps owing to his saving her, she resolved and ceded herself to him; or perhaps, since he too is bound to act in that manner, for the Torah states: “Neither shall you stand idly by the blood of your neighbor” (Vayikra 19:16), she does not resolve to cede herself. 

Now this applies when she agrees to return the value of the loaf of bread, for if not, he is not obligated to save her, for one is even forbidden to save himself with another person’s money.  But there are some who say that while he himself is forbidden to save himself with another person’s money when the owner of that money is not there, nevertheless whenever the owner of the money is present, he is obligated to save [the person in distress] even on condition that he will not recover from him what he spends on saving him, and he cannot collect that sum from him in court.  This is what [the Sages] said regarding the mitzva of unloading: “[If the owner] went and sat down and said: ‘Since the commandment is upon you, if it is your wish to unload, unload,’ he is exempt, as it is said: ‘With him.’” The reason is that it says “with him,” but without that [stipulation] he is obligated. 

And if you propose to say that even where it does not state “with him,” the same law applies – [I would answer that in the case of unloading an animal one is exempt from helping if the owner refuses to participate] because the injured party can help him, and if he refuses to help, others do not have a greater obligation to save his money than he does.  Furthermore, there we are only dealing with the rescue of money, but here where we are dealing with the rescue of the person himself, and that person is unable to save himself, [the onlooker] is obligated to rescue him even if it causes him a [financial] loss, and he cannot collect from him what he expended on his rescue.[14]

 

            Meiri’s words are instructive in and of themselves, but in light of the silence of the rest of the Rishonim and poskim, they do not negate the fact that our problem has not been exhaustively discussed in the primary halakhic sources.  This silence has left us room to investigate the matter.  Specifically, it has left room for a discussion which is based on the halakhic foundations of gemilut chasadim, and which by its very nature will bring under consideration the moral and ethical dimension of the issue.  It is precisely this dimension which is problematic, for our problem is rooted in a clash of values. 

 

On the one hand, there is the mitzva of gemilut chasadim, with all the halakhic and social obligations that it involves, which demand of the benefactor maximal assistance.  On the other hand, there is a demand, perhaps no less legitimate, to minimize the aid and to share the burden.  This demand has at least three components – one related to the limitations of the benefactor, and two connected to the welfare of the recipient. 

 

First of all, since we are talking about dividing up limited resources, generosity toward one person always comes at the expense of his fellow.  This consideration is true about every act of benevolence, but it is especially valid with respect to a public system built on the money and efforts of others upon whom are made coercive demands.  While its full political weight is felt in trying times, whether because of real political and economic limitations or against the background of a taxpayers’ revolt, it is valid at all times as a moral argument.[15]

 

Second, unqualified giving, even were it possible in a practical and budgetary sense, is liable to clash with the fundamental objective of any relief plan: the rehabilitation of the recipient to the point that he is capable of standing on his own two feet, emotionally and functionally.  If Rambam placed at the top of the scale of charity “a person who assists a poor Jew by providing him with a gift or a loan or by accepting him into a business partnership or by helping him find employment – in a word, by putting him where he can dispense with other people’s aid,”[16] then it is clear that the highest goal in helping a person who has already fallen low is the restoration of his independence.  It is precisely abundant aid that is liable to block the attainment of this goal, by intensifying the reality and the feeling of dependence to the point of degeneration and even paralysis of the emotional strengths that are necessary for the rehabilitation process. 

 

Lastly, the participation of the recipient is necessary for his moral benefit, no less than for his psychological benefit.  One need not adopt the views of Emerson or Carlyle in order to understand that the ability to assume responsibility is a measure not only of a person’s emotional health, but also of his spiritual level.  Therefore, whenever this ability is impaired by unconditional giving – or by giving to which only minimal conditions are attached – there exists an additional dimension to the clash of values that stands at the center of our problem.

 

            This clash necessitates a dual approach, in the spirit of the words of Napoleon – that a person should pray as if everything depended upon God and fight as if everything depended upon him.  When relating to the needy person, one ought to encourage personal effort and stimulate self-confidence.  This point has a universal moral foundation, but it draws special strength from the enormous emphasis that Judaism places on free will.  The entire halakhic system is based on one central fact – “Free will is bestowed on every human being.  If one desires to turn toward the good way and be righteous, he has the power to do so.  If one wishes to turn toward the evil way and be wicked, he is at liberty to do so.  And thus it is written in the Torah: ‘Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil’ (Bereishit 3:22) – which means that the human species had become unique in the world, there being no other species like it in the following respect, namely, that man, of himself and by exercise of his own intelligence and reason, knows what is good and what is evil, and there is none who can prevent him from doing that which is good or that which is evil”[17] – and upon the conclusion that may be drawn from it: “Since every human being, as we have explained, has free will, a man should strive to repent, make verbal expression of his sins, and renounce them, so that he may die penitent and thus be worthy of life in the World-to-Come.”[18] What is true about penitence on the spiritual level is true about rehabilitation on the emotional and physical level.  Since every man has free will, he must strive to rehabilitate himself and confront his problems and overcome his difficulties so that he may live and merit life in this world.  The Torah asserts that, factually, a person is capable; and therefore, morally, he is obligated.  Pouvoir oblige.  The recognition of free will is a basic component in the Torah’s outlook regarding the provision of support in general, and it is especially important in assessing the recipient’s contribution to his own rehabilitation.  His personal responsibility stands at the center of Judaism’s ethics and psychological understanding, and its practical expression in treating the needy is strengthening the feeling and reality of his personal strength.

 

            As for our problem, this emphasis does not exhaust itself in encouragement.  It seems to me that it expresses itself in criticism as well.  The final Mishna in tractate Pe’a states: “And anyone who is not in need of taking and does take will not die before he will be dependent on others.”[19] The Mishna does not clarify – nor does the Gemara here or anywhere else – to whom it refers.  But it is difficult to assume that it is talking about someone who has two hundred zuz (or fifty with which he conducts business), but nevertheless takes charity.  Such a person is a real thief.  It may be suggested that we are dealing here with a person who does not have two hundred zuz, but is capable of earning such a sum.  Formally, such a person is entitled to accept gifts for the poor, because he is still defined as a pauper.  But since he refuses to develop his abilities, Chazal do not spare him their criticism.  Indeed, when Rambam codifies the Mishna’s ruling, he adds a source, but ignores the element of theft: “He who, having no need of alms, obtains alms by deception will, ere he die of old age, fall into a dependency that is real.  Such a person comes under the characterization: ‘Cursed is the man that trusts in man’ (Yirmiyahu 17:5).”[20] It is not clear whether the evil lies in his lack of trust in God and his reliance on man – which belongs, of course, to the realm of the relations between man and God – or in the unnecessary exploitation of people through their deception.  In any event, we are certainly not dealing here with real thievery, and it is reasonable to assume that the reference is to someone who is capable of sharing the burden, but renounces his responsibility.

 

            When relating to the benefactor, the situation is reversed.  His readiness and obligation to extend assistance to another person is in great measure a function of that other person’s weakness.  The stronger the recipient, the more the inclination to help him dissipates.  Here, then, is the essence of our question; and it divides into two.  First of all, does there exist, fundamentally, an obligation to offer charity and acts of kindness to a person who is capable of overcoming his difficulties, but for some reason gives up? Second, if indeed such an obligation exists, what factors determine the circumstances in which it applies?

 

            The answer to the first question is connected to the roots of the obligation of gemilut chasadim.  This mitzva has two different but complementary sources.  The first is the foundation of interpersonal mitzvot, the great principle of Rabbi Akiva: “And you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Vayikra 19:18). This fact should be understandable by itself, but in any event, Rambam explained it:

 

The following positive commands were ordained by the Rabbis: visiting the sick, comforting the mourners, joining a funeral procession, dowering a bride, escorting departing guests, performing for the dead the last tender offices, acting as a pallbearer, going before the bier, making lamentation [for the dead], digging a grave and burying the body, causing the bride and the bridegroom to rejoice, providing them with all their needs [for the wedding].  These constitute deeds of kindness performed in person and for which no fixed measure is prescribed.  Although all these commands are only on rabbinical authority, they are implied in the precept: “And you shall love your neighbor as yourself,” that is: what you would have others do to you, do to him who is your brother in the Law and in the performance of the commandments.[21]

 

The second source is one of the focal aspects of mitzvot between man and God: “You shall walk in His ways” (Devarim 28:9).  Some of the actions included in Rambam’s list under the heading of “loving your neighbor” are characterized by the Gemara in Sota as part of the obligation of imitatio Dei, imitating God:

 

Rav Chama son of Rav Chanina said: What means the text: “You shall walk after the Lord your God” (Devarim 13:5)? Is it possible for a human being to walk after the Shekhina; for has it not been said: “For the Lord your God is a devouring fire” (ibid. 4:24)? But [the meaning is] to walk after the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He.  As He clothes the naked, for it is written: “And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife coats of skin, and clothed them” (Bereishit 3:21), so do you also clothe the naked.  The Holy One, blessed be He, visited the sick, for it is written: “And the Lord appeared unto him by the oaks of Mamre” (ibid. 18:1), so do you also visit the sick.  The Holy One, blessed be He, comforted mourners, for it is written: “And it came to pass after the death of Avraham, that God blessed Yitzchak his son” (ibid.  25:11), so do you also comfort mourners.  The Holy One, blessed be He, buried the dead, for it is written: “And He buried him in the valley” (Devarim 34:6), so do you also bury the dead.[22]

 

On the practical level, the two sources of obligation are generally congruent, but from a theoretical perspective, they are very different; and with respect to our question, it seems to me that a distinction should be drawn between them.  Based on “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” it is unreasonable to obligate a person to do for his neighbor that which he would not make the effort to do for himself.  The obligation towards his neighbor and his neighbor’s right to receive acts of kindness seem to be conditioned on his neighbor’s readiness to do his share.  However, the obligation to imitate God does not depend upon any other factor, for God’s kindness is unconditional.  There is indeed a saying that “God helps those who help themselves,” which implies that He does not help those who don’t help themselves; and whole generations of people who ignored the unfortunate, and even abused them, soothed their consciences with this idea.  This, however, is not the Jewish outlook. 

 

Judaism does, of course, recognizes man’s obligation to do whatever he can to provide for his own needs, and even forbids reliance on miracles, but it does not condition Divine assistance on man’s contribution.  With all the importance of “earthly stirring” (itaruta diletata), “heavenly stirring” (itaruta dile’eila) does not depend upon it: “‘And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious’ (Shemot 33:19) – although he may not deserve it.  ‘And I will show mercy to whom I will show mercy’ (ibid.) – although he may not deserve it.”[23] Lovingkindness is provided even to one who is “undeserving” because he is negligent in his efforts to advance himself.  The quantitative and qualitative dimensions of God’s mercy – “‘Abundant in mercy’ – to those who need mercy because they have not sufficient merits [to be saved by them]”[24] – include, without a reckoning, even those who are undeserving.  If God would do a reckoning, who in fact would be able to stand? The same applies, then, to man’s obligation to engage in acts of lovingkindness out of a desire to follow in God’s ways.  Not with calculated and planned steps, and not out of considerations of reciprocity and mutuality, agreement and parallelism, does man walk in the footsteps of his Creator, but precisely with acts of kindness that breach the dams of balance and reckoning; which are given, as formulated by Rambam, even to “one who has no right at all to claim this from you.”[25]

 

It is possible to suggest another difference between the two sources of obligation, as far as our question is concerned, if we examine  the nature of the relationship to the other person.  Gemilut chasadim that is based on love of one’s fellow has an interpersonal foundation.  The recipient is considered as a party with standing, as a gavra (subject), in the framework of mutual, if not equal, relations.  Thus, it is reasonable to condition the obligation of the one party on the conduct of the other.  But gemilut chasadim that is based on walking in the ways of God is not rooted in a relationship with another person.  It constitutes a personal moral and religious challenge in the context of which the other person is merely the field of activity, sort of a cheftza (object) with which the mitzva is fulfilled – and as it applies even to animals, for “the Holy One, blessed be He, sustains [all creatures,] from the horns of wild oxen to the eggs of vermin”[26] – but not a party with any standing in the matter.  Thus it follows that the negligence of the recipient does not negate the obligation of the benefactor.  Is a reckoning done with the horns of wild oxen and the eggs of vermin?

 

            According to the aforementioned understanding, there is indeed an obligation to help the needy who do not do their part to help themselves to the best of their ability. But the fact that this duty is based on only one of the two sources of obligation of gemilut chasadim dulls its force. While on the one hand, as we have seen, the obligation to imitate God has wider application than the obligation to love one’s neighbor, on the other hand, its validity is less clear and obligating. With respect to the nature of the mitzva and its obligation, the love of one’s neighbor, as it is applied on the practical level – over and beyond the fulfillment in the heart that it requires – is similar to other mitzvot. In specified circumstances, the actions that are demanded by this duty are as obligatory as wearing tzitzit and constructing a railing on one’s roof, as blowing a shofar and donning tefillin. There is no escaping its demands, and it may not be pushed aside because of other spiritual demands, barring cases in which any mitzva would be pushed aside (because of the rule that one who is already engaged in a mitzva is exempt from performing other mitzvot, or the like). For example, one may not neglect gemilut chasadim that is connected to the love of one’s fellow only in order to study Torah, just as one may not neglect the mitzva of lulav for that reason. Moreover, it is possible that such actions are not merely means to achieve an emotional relationship, or even the external expression that reflects that relationship, but rather the practical dimension of the mitzva.

 

For this reason, the mitzva also divides, if only by rabbinic decree, into various branches, each one being defined as a mitzva in its own right, to the point that Rambam discusses the priority given to each one:

It seems to me that the duty of comforting mourners takes precedence over the duty of visiting the sick, because comforting mourners is an act of benevolence toward the living and the dead.[27]

As I heard on various occasions from my revered teacher, Maran HaGaon Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, such a discussion is possible only if we assume that by rabbinic law, the comforting of mourners, the visiting of the sick, and similar obligations each become separate entities and categories. Otherwise, it would be necessary to adopt a contextual approach that would judge each case according to its specific circumstances. It seems to me that it is reasonable to add that the basis for this development is the Torah level of the mitzva that grants gemilut chasadim and its specific actions the status of actions and fulfillments of the mitzva of “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

 

            The nature of benevolence that is based on walking in God’s ways is entirely different. This mitzva, in all its aspects and with all its offshoots, outlines a direction and a goal, but it lacks absolute and specific content. The moral action that it demands is part of an overall spiritual effort. Thus, it competes with parallel efforts for a person’s attention for and the allocation of his resources – such as expanding Torah study or deepening the fear of heaven; and circumstances are possible in which a person’s priorities will demand that preference be given to other objectives at the cost of gemilut chasadim. In this framework, the focus is upon the personality of the benefactor that is fashioned and expressed through his actions, and not the needs of the recipient. To the extent that his spiritual personality can develop more in other ways, the needs of the other person – inasmuch as they are just a means and not the objective – are liable to be set aside. Therefore, basing a specific act of chesed exclusively on walking in God’s ways narrows the dimensions of the obligation.[28]

 

            To this limitation, which is connected to the circumstances of the benefactor, we can add a second limitation that is connected to the situation of the recipient and his capability of rehabilitating himself. It seems to me that it is possible to distinguish between two levels of capability. In one, a person is in distress – there being no halakhic doubt about this fact – but he is capable, through intensive efforts, to contribute to the solution of his problems, and perhaps even to rehabilitate himself. Regarding such a person, there is room to discuss, at the very most, whether or not his refusal to exert himself as required exempts others from doing for him what he is not prepared to do for himself. Beyond a certain point, however – and I openly admit that, practically speaking, I don’t know where to draw the line – it is so easy for the needy person to help himself that his situation cannot be called one of distress. When his own salvation is easy to achieve, but for some reason he refuses to help himself, it is difficult to view him as in need. In such a case, the allowance to ignore his problems is not an exemption that stems from his refusal, but an absence of obligation that is rooted in the fact that he simply is not included in the parameters of the mitzva. With regard to the mitzvot of perika and te’ina or gemilut chesed, he is like a rich man with regard to the mitzva of tzedaka. A doubt may even be raised whether one who goes out and helps a “needy” person of this sort fulfills these mitzvot. Regarding the obligation, in any event, it is certainly possible to distinguish between these two levels. Regarding the one, the other person is fundamentally obligated to extend assistance, though there might be some practical limitations. Regarding the second, he is entirely out of the picture.

 

            This point brings us to the practical complications of our problem. Reaching a fundamental decision and establishing operative guidelines are two different things. The conclusion that there is room to include in the mitzva of gemilut chasadim the extension of relief to the negligent does not mean that it should be extended – or extended in the same measure – in every case.

 

            Before concluding, we must survey the main factors that must be considered when performing such chesed. One, that has already been mentioned, is the needy person’s ability to help himself. Even in cases where the indigent person is certainly regarded as being in need – for example, where a person can do much to alleviate his distress, but cannot remove it altogether on his own[29] – it is clear that the needy person’s ability to help himself must impact upon the obligation to help him. The more possible the mission, the more restricted the obligation – both because the recipient is less needy and because his responsibility, in the double sense of burden and guilt, is greater. It is, of course, impossible to establish precise criteria for this point. Regarding loading and unloading when the owner stands on the side, the Mishna states: “If [the owner] is old or sick, [the passerby] is obligated.”[30] But it does not clarify the level of old age or illness, and certainly there is room here for different approaches. I myself am inclined to a liberal definition, but clearly there is no absolute answer; and the same applies with respect to our general question regarding gemilut chasadim. If we are talking about finding a job – and that is the primary practical point in our day – there is yet another vague factor: dependency on others. As opposed to the cases of loading and unloading, here efforts in and of themselves are no guarantee of success. Thus, it is possible to apply the words of the author of the Me’il Tzedaka:

Children, life and sustenance do not depend on merit, for it is written: “And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious” (Shemot 33:19) – although he may not deserve it. We learn from here that whoever sends out his hand to take, we give him. And there is no proof that if he is healthy, he is fit to work, for his fate does not help him earn a profit, even if he works all day long.[31]

Nevertheless, there is room to distinguish between one who is looking for a job, but fails to find one, and one who sits back doing nothing, if we just adopt the principle – as apparently Me’il Tzedaka did – that a person’s refusal to take advantage of his own abilities lessens the obligation upon others to act charitably towards him.

 

            On this level, one point requires special emphasis. It may be assumed that the illness mentioned in the Mishna – parallel to old age – is a physical illness, the definition of which is relatively simple. The serious difficulty arises with respect to emotional illnesses or hindrances, both because their scientific definition is less precise and because they are subject to sharp ideological controversy. Psychological disability – fear of responsibility, difficulty in adapting oneself to a steady routine, distaste for authority, dependency on the home – can eat away at the ability to work no less than a lame foot. Without a doubt, however, it is less recognized, in both senses of the word.

 

The degree of recognition depends in no small measure on the idea of free will. This is why the halakhist will be inclined to adopt an ambivalent attitude towards the struggle over welfare budgets across the Western world today, between conservative politicians who are “stingy” and social workers who are “generous.” On the one hand, Halakha’s excessive valuation of chesed and of society’s responsibility toward the needy brings him to support the expansion of aid. But on the other hand, the more that this demand is based on the argument that aid must be expanded because psycho-social circumstances fetter the needy and prevent them from joining the work force, it clashes with the emphasis that Judaism places upon free will.

 

Halakha indeed recognizes psychological causality, and Chazal even saw such circumstances as a factor that mitigates or even altogether removes responsibility and guilt.  For example, we find suffering as a mitigating circumstance:

Rav Sheshet said in the name of Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya: I could exempt the entire world [Rashi: the Jewish world] from judgment from the day of the destruction of the Temple until the present time, for it is said in Scripture: “Therefore, hear now this, you afflicted and drunken but not of wine” (Yishayahu 51:1).[32]

With regard circumstances of seduction the Gemara states:

What is “And Di Zahav” (Devarim 1:1)? They said in the school of Rabbi Yannai, Thus spoke Moshe before the Holy One, blessed be He: Master of the Universe, the silver and gold (zahav) which you showered on Israel until they said, “Enough (dai),” that was what led to their making the calf… Rav Chiyya bar Abba said in the name of Rabbi Yochanan: It is like the case of a man who had a son; he bathed him and anointed him and gave him plenty to eat and drink and hung a purse around his neck and set him down at the door of a brothel. How could the boy help sinning?[33]

Generally, however, the heavy emphasis that Halakha places on man’s freedom and ability and the fundamental trust that it puts in him stand in absolute opposition to the psychological determinism that is prevalent in wide circles of those who support an “enlightened and liberal” welfare policy. Trusting man and emphasizing his responsibility means believing that he is capable of transformation, if he so desires. Shifting the focus from ability to will narrows the definition of “an old or sick man,” and it is also liable to diminish the feelings of obligation and sympathy toward the needy:

Rabbi Elazar said: Any person who has no knowledge – it is forbidden to have mercy upon him, as it is stated:  “For it is a people of no understanding; therefore He that made them will not have compassion upon them, and He that formed them will not be gracious unto them” (Yeshayahu 27:11).[34]

From a certain perspective, it is possible to respond in the manner that Rav Chen reported in the name of his father: “How much mercy [has been shown] to one to whom it is forbidden to show mercy.”[35] But with all the sympathy over his lack of understanding, the fact that a person is regarded as one with unused abilities certainly tends to diminish the degree to which one fulfills gemilut chasadim in his regard.

 

            This point borders on a second important factor: the needy person’s motives. A lazy person who sneers at society and expects it to support him certainly can not be compared to a refined person who prefers to remain within the confines of gentility rather than skin carcasses in the market; and between these two extremes there is a broad spectrum. According to the determinist view, this point is significant only with respect to the treatment: help offered to the “lazy” should be restricted or cancelled because it is liable to encourage an anti-social attitude or undermine his ability to function. From a Jewish perspective, however, this distinction is replete with clear moral content, and as such, it has great weight on the operational plane. In certain situations, the needy person’s spiritual benefit, irrespective of the benefactor’s limitations, demands a cessation of chesed that is liable to produce corruption; and this should be given priority. However, it falls upon the benefactor or the welfare agency to ascertain, honestly and sincerely, that this consideration, and not the natural inclination to scrimp, is the driving force behind this withholding of assistance. If indeed the move is dictated not by budgetary considerations but rather by conscience, the denial of aid might be absolutely justified.

 

            The third factor is the need of the recipient. The graver his situation – and most importantly, the more dangerous it is – the more difficult it becomes to withhold aid, even when it seems appropriate from other perspectives. In the extreme case, where the person in need is in mortal danger, it would be unthinkable to allow him to deteriorate because he is responsible for his troubles. This follows by way of a kal va-chomer argument. If in the case of a person who wishes to commit suicide, we are obligated to frustrate his design and save him – and this seems to be obvious[36] – then surely in the case of a person who endangers himself in indirect ways, where his “guilt” is less clear, all the more so must we come to his rescue. Without a doubt, even Rabbi Shimon, who maintains that if a person has resources of his own but does not wish to support himself from them, we are not bound to help him, will concede that we may not ignore a person who mortifies himself to the point that his life is placed in jeopardy. Maharam of Rothenburg has already written:

I was asked about a teacher who had entrusted a deposit in the hands of his landlord, and he was arrested on false charges, and he instructed his landlord not to ransom him; I wrote that he must ransom him against his will… Even if he says, “I do not want you to ransom me,” we ransom him with his money against his will… For we learn from a verse that one who sees his fellow drowning in a river is obligated to save him and exert himself and hire rescuers, and it is obvious that even if he commands, “Do not save me,” one must save him and later one can collect one’s expenses from him.[37]

The severity of the situation – and Chazal[38] viewed the dangers of captivity as exceedingly great – magnifies the obligation to rescue, the responsibility of the person in danger be as it may. While Maharam’s conclusion that expenses may be collected from the ransomed captive differs from the position of Rabbi Shimon (which was codified as law regarding the provision of financial support), this difference is clearly attributable to the differing needs in the two cases.

 

            This point is reflected in the words of Meiri cited earlier. As may be remembered, one of the distinctions that he offered between the talmudic passage in Kiddushin, which implies that the obligation of rescue falls entirely on the rescuer, and the Mishna in Bava Metzia, from which he infers that it falls also on the rescued party, was the difference between saving a life and saving property. Meiri does not explain, but it seems to me that at the root of the matter is the assumption that regarding bodily danger there is an absolute obligation that leaves no room for any kind of reckoning. Even the lazy and those who take advantage of others have a right to life. As for property, it is possible to demand, at the very least, the needy person’s participation – whether in order not to place too heavy a burden on the benefactor, or in order not to detract from others in need, or in order to teach him a lesson. But as for life, the obligation to rescue stands above all other considerations.[39] From this type of danger, while rather extreme, we may infer, in the framework of our discussion, the law governing other situations. The principle underlying the words of the Meiri is valid regarding assistance in general: the obligation to assist the “lazy” is a function of the danger threatening them.

 

            In the end, of course, these factors, each one independently or taken all together, cannot be translated into precise solutions for the problem of assistance to those who are negligent about helping themselves. While they outline a direction and propose guidelines, the need to deal on both a moral and a practical level with the particular aspects of each individual case and every public framework, remains in place. This is rooted in both the complex social reality and the outlook of Halakha. The effort to encourage sensitivity on the one hand, and responsibility on the other, to nurture both a work ethic and an ethic of giving, to hold onto both tzedek (justice) and tzedaka (charity), reflects Halakha’s values. It is in this complex of values that our problem lies, and within it are also found the foundations of its solution. One must, however, strive to reach it, and for the proper motives.