Building an olam chesed means building their world – not ours

Some people never grow up.

They might be wealthy CEOs, venerated professors, leaders of countries. But there’s a part of them that never graduated from child to adult.

Babies are egocentric. They view themselves as the center of the world. Naturally, their way is the only way. They aren’t yet capable of grasping another person’s perspective.

As we mature, most of us learn to consider, even appreciate, viewpoints other than our own. But it’s an ongoing struggle. Many never become superb at it.

If we want to be true chesed creators, if we want to be “mechayeh es kulam,” bringing people their best lives, we need to master this art of growing up. The art of relating to another’s way of thinking.

Why?

When we get a clear request for help, we know exactly how to fulfill it right. Organization needs $5000? Ok, just wired the money. Friend asks for a listening ear? No problem, here’s two.

But if we’re ready to move beyond reactive chesed – if you’re interested in proactively enhancing people’s lives – we run into a challenge. We’re so sure our relative needs xyz type of help – but what if he doesn’t? What if we’re mixing up our needs and preferences with his?

In Parshas Shemos, we read the following about Moshe Rabbeinu: “Vayigadal Moshe vayeitzei el echav vayahr b’sivlosam.” “And Moshe grew up, went out to his brethren, and saw their affliction.”

Rashi lets us know that “vayahr b’sivlosam” didn’t just mean he physically saw their pain. Instead, he “applied his eyes and heart to be distressed over the Jewish people’s plight.”

The Alter of Kelm states that the early stories of Moshe Rabbeinu serve to describe the traits Moshe possessed that led Hashem to choose him as Klal Yisrael’s leader.

“Vayeitzei el echav” wasn’t a mere physical act. Moshe “mentally” went out to his brothers. He left his own viewpoint so he could relate to their experiences and needs.

That’s what chesed creators do. They quiet their own ideas and priorities so they can meet another’s need on that person’s terms.

When presenting the mitzvah of tzedakah, the Torah instructs, “Open up your hand to him [or] lend him ‘asher yechsar lo’ – that which he is missing.” As per Rashi, this means we’re obligated to provide him “even a horse to ride on, or a servant to run in front of him, or even a wife.”

If we were supporting a wealthy friend who went bankrupt, we’d be focused on nourishing food, respectable clothes. We’d raise our eyebrows disapprovingly if he asked for a brand new horse – or, in our terms, a Cadillac SUV – to replace the one the bank took.

Sure, we think it’s ridiculous, but we’re not considering his needs. What if he’d happily make do with a single Shabbos suit, and swap beef dinners for baked beans, but suffer mortal embarrassment driving a cheaper car?

Building an olam chesed – being mechayeh es kulam – means doing the hard work of dropping the “we know better” mindset. Of helping others build their world, not the world we think they should be building. Of accepting that if our newlywed kids take the anniversary money we give them and splurge on a vacation instead of using it sensibly on much-needed furniture – well, that might just be what they need most. They don’t love their folding table either, and it’s impossible to know what “marriage needs” might be trumping the practical ones.

Let’s start thinking like real chesed creators. Let’s choose someone in our life who we give to often – spouse, child, elderly parent, needy friend – and really delve into who they are. What they want. And how we can fulfill the needs we might not understand.

It isn’t easy. But it triggers a fulfillment that reactive chesed-doers can’t imagine.