Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Michael Swartz Bar Mitzvah
November 2, 2002
Unsung Heroes
I love teaching the Bible. I teach one Bible course each year in the Institute of Adult Jewish Studies and another on Wednesday nights in Midrasha. Sometimes I like to begin the course by saying the Bible is the greatest book never read. While we Jews and Christians ascribe great importance to the Bible, we too infrequently open it. There are large sections of the Tanakh that even the most observant Jews hardly ever read. When was the last time you read the books of Chronicles, Daniel, or even Proverbs, one of the Megillot attached to a festival? This morning, in the spirit of that motto about the Bible being the greatest book never read, I would like to pay homage to the greatest Biblical figures ever forgotten. I like to think of these men and women as the unsung heroes of our Bible.
Let me explain. There are certain names in our Bible which are familiar to almost all of us. We’ve heard of Abraham and Sarah, Joseph, Moses and Aaron, Elijah, Isaiah and King David. These figures dominate our religious imagination. But there is another group of people who are only mentioned in passing in the pages of our Bible, yet their influence on the course of Jewish history sometimes is no less significant than the stars of the biblical narratives.
Our Torah portion for this Shabbat contains the story of one of these unsung heroes. In fact, he is so unsung that we never even learn his name. All we know about him is that he was Abraham’s faithful servant, his household steward or retainer. Later tradition would identity this hero of Genesis 24, from which Michael read, as the servant Eliezer, introduced nine chapters earlier as “the one in charge of my household is Dammesek Eliezer.” Some scholars understand Dammesek to mean the Damascan and speculate that Abraham may have adopted him as a son so he would be Abraham’s beneficiary. Remember that Abraham is childless at this point.
One of the great Bible scholars, Albright, believes that Abraham adopted the native-born Eliezer so that Abraham would be able to obtain credit since Eliezer could own property, thus extending Abraham’s credit base. But that is all scholarly speculation. The fact of the matter is that in chapter 24, in which Abraham’s servant is one of only two central figures – the other being Rebekah – we are not sure who this mysterious servant is. It might have been Eliezer of Genesis 15, but the text never says so.
As Abraham approaches his final years – his beloved helpmate, partner and fellow pioneer, Sarah, having recently died – Abraham is concerned with their son Isaac’s well-being. So he assigns his servant the task of returning to Haran, his ancestral home, to find an appropriate wife for his son. With little concern for himself, the servant travels to Haran, carries out this task, as Michael read, and then quickly fades from the stage of biblical history.
So why isn’t Abraham’s servant identified by name in this long chapter 24? The Midrash claims that Eliezer had hopes of inheriting Abraham’s household, or at least having his own daughter marry Isaac. Since he could never attain the station to which he aspired, he is not mentioned by name. In the end, however, Eliezer – or whoever this servant is – faithfully fulfills his promise without concern for his own self-interest. Maybe the Torah’s silence is an expression of the servant’s humility and loyalty.
Abraham’s servant is only one figure in a long line of unsung heroes in the Bible. They come and go with little fanfare and never receive top billing in the biblical narrative. For example, there is the nameless, anonymous wayfarer who gives Joseph directions so that he can find his brothers. There are the midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, who save the Hebrew babies in Egypt. How about the nameless butler responsible for introducing Joseph to the Pharaoh? Bigthan and Teresh in the Book of Esther, etc., etc. While the Bible only mentions these unsung heroes in passing, our history would not have been the same without them.
The unsung heroes of our Bible remind us that, whether or not we ever get our “15 minutes of fame”, each of us has the potential to make a difference in the world and to change the course of history. We can do this simply by changing one life.
Unsung heroes can be found everywhere, in every walk of life. Often, however, they are hidden from sight. Their touch is present and it affects all of us. We recall the beginnings of the space age. We can probably think of three astronauts – Buzz Aldrin, Alan Shepherd, John Glenn – but how about all of their fellow astronauts and what about the thousands of scientists, mechanics, medics, technicians who made those space flights possible?
Or consider the case of the Righteous Gentiles, those who had the courage to defy the Nazis and save Jewish lives during the Holocaust. We have all heard of Oscar Schindler because Steven Spielberg decided to make a movie about him. But what we often forget is that there were literally hundreds of other men and women who in small and large ways saved lives. Some of them have been honored by the Israeli Holocaust Memorial, Yad Vashem – most have been forgotten.
The world is populated by unsung heroes, people who go about their daily lives and never receive credit and recognition for the deeds they perform and the acts of kindness they do. This is particularly true in the realm of moral behavior.
Jewish tradition teaches that there are 36 righteous people, lamed-vav tzadikim, without whom the world could not exist. These modest, upright people are not the leaders of religious orders or the recipients of the Nobel Peace Prize, nor are they necessarily Jewish. Their names will never appear on the front page of the newspaper or on the nightly news. They are hidden from public attention, and tradition claims that even they are not aware of who they are; yet we cannot live without them. They sustain this world.
Who knows, maybe one of these lamed vavniks – as they are called – is sitting next to you right now. You will never know. And since we cannot know who the unsung heroes of our world are, we need to remember to treat all people with reverence and respect.
There are many stories about these hidden tzadikim. One such story is told about Chayim, the miser. Though Chayim was one of the richest Jews in his community, he was also the most disliked. Whenever Chayim was approached for tsedakah by the elders of the community, they were sent away empty-handed.
Chayim eventually died. There was no love lost by his fellow townsmen, so nobody attended his funeral. It was left to the members of the chevra kadisha, the burial society, to unceremoniously see to Chayim’s interment.
But, within a few weeks after Chayim’s death, strange things began to happen. An old widow came to the rabbi crying: “Rabbi, there must be a thief in our town. For years now, every Tuesday and Friday I would find a bag of groceries on my front porch. Without this extra food I could barely survive and now, suddenly, the bags are gone.”
And the next day a young tailor with a large family showed up at the rabbi’s doorstep. Frantic, he began to weep: “Rabbi, I don’t understand. Once a week for the past five years I found an envelop filled with money in my mailbox. Though I work hard, I could not have survived without this gift. For the past two weeks this money has not arrived.”
Person after person came to see the rabbi with tales of woe. Slowly it dawned on the rabbi that these acts of charity had all come to an end when Chayim the miser passed away. Chayim, whose funeral everyone had avoided, had secretly been helping the members of his community for years. The rabbi sat at his desk and cried. A tzadik had lived in their midst and he had been unaware; he had wronged a good man.
The anonymous servant in this week’s sedra is truly a lovely character. He does what he has to do without any fanfare or recognition. He asks for God’s help in carrying out his task, but he does not ask for any reward. Best of all, he is grateful when he succeeds. The anonymous servant understands that the greatest reward for doing good deeds is the privilege of doing them. In the words of the sages, s’char mitzvah mitzvah – the reward for doing a mitzvah is the mitzvah itself.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all be more like Abraham’s servant? To live life with humility, to do good with no expectation of reward, to enjoy the pleasure of quietly making the world a better place – and then moving on.
And so, dear friends, as we pray, maybe this is what we should ask for – not for fame or high honor, but for the opportunity to do good deeds and to live with a quiet certainty that through our actions we are among God’s unsung heroes. What greater reward can there be! Amen
This message is based on the writings of Rabbi Mark B. Greenspan; I am grateful to him.
