כי יהיה בך אביון מאחד אחיך ... לא תאמץ את לבבך ולא תקפץ את ידך מאחיך האביון וגו' (טו-ז)
A beggar once came to the door of a young Jewish couple, who were recently married. Just minutes before, the husband and wife had sat down to their noonday meal. The husband, a wealthy merchant, closed his business every day at noon and returned home for a sumptuous lunch. Prepared with love and care, his wife always tried to make his lunch break as pleasant as possible before he returned to work. The couple had not been married long, and in truth, they did not know much about each other’s past. The husband hadn’t been born into a wealthy home, but he was a modest and kindly man. All the wife knew for sure was that her husband had once been a poor man, but the wheel of fortune had turned and he was now the proprietor of a successful business. Yet despite his newfound riches, the husband had continued to lead a simple life. Generous and giving, the memory of his own misfortune drove him to dispense Tzedakah liberally to anyone who asked for help.
The knock on the door that day had been nothing out of the ordinary. Poor people were always coming to ask for a donation, and those collecting money for a good cause knew they would be well received. But this time, the voice on the other side of the door had been especially pitiful. “Please, please have pity on a poor Jew,” the pauper had pleaded desperately. “It’s been days since I’ve had anything to eat. Please give me a crust of bread. I ask for nothing more.”
The sound of that tormented voice had immediately reminded the husband of his own past suffering, and his appetite had fled. Without hesitation, he told his wife to invite the beggar in and give him his entire plate of food. Happily surprised, the beggar ran straight to the table and quickly devoured the meal, the whole time thanking and blessing his benefactors.
After the man had left their home, the husband was surprised to see how agitated his wife had become. But why was she so upset? He knew she was a generous soul, so it couldn’t be the food that he had given away.
In response to his gentle questioning the wife broke down. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, “but I was suddenly reminded of my former life in Cairo, Egypt, before I was married to you. Like you, my first husband was a very rich man, and I also used to cook for him the most delicious meals. He, too, would close his store and come home for lunch.
“Hashem blessed my husband with great wealth, and his business dealings were very successful. Unfortunately, my husband had one bad character trait that ruined his life: he was extremely stingy. He was so unwilling to help the poor that he forbade me to give them food or drink if they came to the door. It bothered me very much, but I wanted to preserve peace in the home and obeyed his wishes. Eventually we earned a reputation for being miserly. Beggars would cross the street rather than knock on our door. It pained me greatly, but what could I do? I was trying to please my husband.” She stifled a cry.
“One day at lunchtime there was a knock on the door. I can still see my husband, having just taken his first bite of bread. ‘Who’s there?’ he called out. ‘I am a poor Jew,’ was the answer. ‘Please help me. I haven’t eaten in many days, and I am about to expire from hunger.’ This did not soften his heart. My husband had only become angry. ‘Go away!’ he shouted at the intruder who dared to interrupt his meal. ‘These impudent beggars won’t even let a person eat in peace...’ He then slammed the door in the poor man’s face. I burst into tears.” The wife looked stricken as she recalled the incident. “From that day on my husband’s business began to falter. One loss followed another until all the money was gone. Even the house was lost to creditors, and we were left with nothing. At that point my husband insisted that we divorce, and we each went our separate ways.”
The husband rushed to console his wife. But she insisted on finishing her story and explaining why she became so agitated. “It was rumored that he had become a pauper and a beggar. I never saw my first husband again. That is, until today,” the woman said. “Do you know who that poor man was who just left our house? It was my first husband!”
The husband’s eyes filled with tears. He too was moved to the depths of his soul. “As a matter of fact, my dear,” he replied, “I recognized him. And I myself was the beggar he turned away from the door that fateful day...” (Adapted from L’Chayim Weekly)
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