September 17, 2004/Tishri 2 5765, Vol. 57, No. 3
Our best and our sweetestH. ERIC SHOCKMANFor millions of American Jews, the official end of the summer season brings with it an important new beginning. Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, ushers in the holiest period of the Jewish calendar. The 10 Days of Repentance between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur allow Jews to celebrate a fresh start by looking back on the year just ended and committing not to repeat past mistakes in the months ahead.In preparation for the holidays, the Jewish nonprofit agency that I work for took part in its third annual Volunteer Day. We have cooked lunches for homebound HIV/AIDS sufferers, packed grocery bags for poor and anxious families with young children, and served hot meals to veterans and seniors. This year, some of us went to work at a food bank. As we unloaded crates of donated goods and prepared them for distribution to a network of pantries and soup kitchens, I was struck by the range and quality of food that people had seen fit to send. From above, the crates were awash with bright colored labels in multihued tones, cans and boxes and packages of every shape and texture. But a closer look proved instructive. These were not just your typical donation offerings, not just the soups, rices and beans that seem to overpopulate the average consumer's cupboard. There were also dried plums, imported tuna and expensive Italian capers - and gourmet pasta, fresh juices and can after can of pricey artichoke hearts. I stumbled across bags of designer, hand-ground Colombian coffee and boxes of macadamia nuts. The Torah commands us to feed the less fortunate. But our tradition doesn't leave it at that; it urges us to adhere to a stricter standard: "When you give food to a hungry person, give him your best and sweetest food." Based on what I saw that day at the food bank, people are listening. Surely these donations were not simply the result of excess purchases; after all, canned goods last nearly a lifetime, and most people who enjoy capers once will likely use them again. The rich diversity we found at the food bank clearly revealed the donors' intuitive sense, both on a personal and communal level, of what is decent and right. Such donors understand the fleeting nature of financial security. They recognize that the families who receive their aid are no less sophisticated and no less deserving than they are; they simply have imported-tuna palates on a kidney-bean budget. We are now in a period of repentance and reckoning, struggling to unpack our hearts and open our minds, affirming who we are and imagining who we want to be. We can all resolve to be better. When we meet someone to transact business, we can offer our best and sweetest deal. When we see someone we love, we can give our best and sweetest kiss. And when we feed a hungry person, we can give our best and sweetest food. H. Eric Schockman is president of MAZON: A Jewish Response to Hunger, a national organization based in Los Angeles. |
