By Rabbi Ori Bergman

A story: one day, on my way to work, I noticed a small sign hanging on an electric pole. It was a piece of paper with something handwritten on it.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I approached and read: “I lost 50 shekels somewhere on the road. If anyone finds them, please return them to me at this address. My vision isn’t great, so please help.”

At the bottom of the note was an address.

Knowing it wasn’t far, I decided to check the story. I arrived at an old cottage and saw an elderly woman sitting outside. She seemed blind, and as my steps approached, she asked, “Who’s there?”

I explained that I saw her sign, found 50 shekels on the road, and came to return them.

She started crying upon hearing this. When she calmed down a bit, she said, “Dear, there were at least 30-40 people who came and gave me 50 shekels. All of them claimed they found the money on the road. I didn’t write this note; I can’t even see properly, and I don’t know how to read or write.”

I reassured her it was okay, and since I was already there, I told her to keep the money. She asked me to tear the note on my way back and requested the same from everyone who had been to her.

Leaving the place, I had a million thoughts in my head. Who could have written that note? She asked everyone to tear it, but no one did. In my heart, I thanked the person who put up the note.

I understood that people have an inner need to help, even if they don’t always know how. There are so many ways to do it, and the person who wrote the note just found one way. They simply wanted to help an old woman living alone.

On my way back, someone stopped me and asked, “Hey, can you help me with this address? I found 50 shekels here and want to return them….”

This week, there was one piece of news that was unlike any other news – it was positive, uplifting and inspiring. The incredible generosity of the 96-year-old Ruth Gottesman who donated $1 billion to the Albert Einstein College of Medicine in the Bronx providing free tuition to all students.

I am reminded of the lyrics to the song “I can be” by Ya’akov Shwekey: Life is the people we love and what we give to one another. Loving is giving, giving is life

In this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tisa, we read about the Machazit Hashekel (the Half Shekel): Everyone who goes through the counting (of a census) shall give half a shekel according to the holy shekel. Twenty gerahs equal one shekel; half of one shekel shall be an offering to the Lord (Exodus 30:13).

A cryptic midrash describes how God told Moses that the people were to give half a shekel: “He showed Moses a coin of fire and said to him, this is what they should give.”

Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk, the 18th century Chassidic master explains that this midrash hints that money is like fire. Just as fire can be beneficial for heating and cooking, but can also destroy and burn, so money can also be used either for giving tzedaka (charity) and other productive ends or it can lead to corruption.

Money in itself is neutral (like fire) and, says the midrash, it is a tool and the way we use it determines whether it is used well or badly.

Sivan Rahav Meir cites a teaching of our Sages that speaks to the transient nature of money and possessions:

Why is it called property (nekhasim)? Because they are hidden (nikhsim) from one person and revealed to another.

Why are they called coins (zuzim)? Because they move (zazim) from one person and are given to another.

Why is it called money (mamon)? Because what you count (moneh) is not really anything.

Why is it called small change (maot)? Because they come and go from time to time (me’et le’et).

Shortly after the command to give the Half Shekel, the Torah instructs us about Shabbat. What is the connection?  When money rules, we remember the price of things and forget the value of things (Rabbi Sacks). Comes Shabbat, whose laws dictate that we are not to deal with money and in so doing we dedicate ourselves to the things that have value but no price.

Sir Moses Montefiore was once asked him: “Sir Moses, what are you worth?” He thought for a while and named a figure.   “But surely,” said his questioner, “your wealth must be much more than that.”   With a smile, Sir Moses replied: “You didn’t ask me how much I own. You asked me how much I am worth. So, I calculated how much I have given to charity thus far this year – because we are worth what we are willing to share with others.”

May we all take pleasure in the act of giving… giving… and giving some more.

Ori Bergman is Rabbi of Kehillat Ohr Tzion.