Home Is Where The Hard Work Is

Last week at the Shabbos table, my husband Chaim and I had an interesting discussion. We talked about how people are multi-faceted, in that every person has a strength and a weakness. In other words, we are not simple but rather complex beings.

When relationships end, sometimes we automatically jump to conclusions about the people involved from what we already know. It’s important, though, to remember that we don’t always know another person fully. As humans, we are more complicated than one-dimensional. Just like we shouldn’t suspect the innocent or be חושד בכשרים, we also shouldn’t assume that we know the whole person or their story.

To elaborate, every human being has two faces, a public and a private one. This is due to the discrepancy in our comfort in one setting over the other. When we are comfortable, we naturally let our guard down and act differently, for better or for worse. For example, I see children all the time who are very quiet in the classroom, while I hear from their parents that they are full of life at home. As soon as we step over the doorway and drop our keys on the kitchen counter, we take off our public mask and put on our private mask, whatever this means to each and every person.

So, as Chaim and I were enjoying our lunch, dipping the challah into our hummus—or to be more consistent, our hallah into our hummus—I thought of a great Chazal that explains this area of human complexity. In Bava Kama 87a, our Chachamim discuss what is harder to do, something that you were asked to do and you have to do it, or something that you do of your own choice? It’s a great question since doing the dishes as a chore for my mother is only asked of me and is nothing extra. Yet, choosing to help an overwhelmed mother in another household means going out of my way and acting special.

To my surprise though, Chazal conclude that גדול המצווה ועושה ממי שאינו מצווה ועושה. Someone who is commanded to do and does is greater than one who isn’t commanded and does anyway. This value plays on the principle in Mishneh Avos of לפום צערא אגרא: the harder the work, the greater the reward. Because it’s harder for me to do a sink full of dishes as an obligation rather than a chessed in another home, I get a much greater reward!

During Shabbos lunch, as Chaim and I dipped our shnitzel into more hummus, I mentioned this mishneh because the disparity between people’s double face, I believe, is often related to how they handle their obligations at home, in comparison to how they decide to help others outside.

For example, my family appreciates what I do for them at home. But at the same time, this is my obligational role, and I must meet their expectations even if I don’t feel like it. And although I’m definitely valued for being a good mother and spouse, I get no acclaim for this, and neither a salary nor a Public Service Award. (Unless my husband’s planning on a big anniversary surprise.)

On the contrary, if I give a lot of tzedakah, the community might know about it, I might get widespread recognition and even have a designated plate with my name in the local shul or Yeshivah. Because of this dichotomy in people’s responses to our public and private actions, it is much harder to meet our expectations at home than to surpass them outside.

גדול המצווה ועושה ממי שאינו מצווה ועושה! Our friends and associates can be chosen, yet our family, no matter how amazing and fun, cannot be. Many of us have different ways we operate indoors than out, hopefully for the better! After all, as the expression goes, Chessed starts at home. This is our utmost priority, whether it is difficult and whether we are satisfied with others’ appreciation.

In this line of thinking, as my husband and I finished our chocolate dessert (and closed the hummus container), I came up with a brilliant interpretation of גדול המצווה—the lights were very bright!

There’s a pasuk in Koheles, טוב אחרית דבר מראשיתו, that the end of something is greater than its beginning. After all, what we finish is greater than what we started.

Yet, there’s another way to read this sentence based on the role the prefix מ- plays in Hebrew. In the first read, we use מ-, as more than, טוב אחרית דבר מראשיתו, the end of something is more than its beginning. However, מ- can also mean from, as in מן, which would play this verse out in a reading that means just the opposite: טוב אחרית דבר מן ראשיתו, the end of something is only good from its beginning. Interestingly so, there are many pesukim to support this concept, such as סוף מעשה במחשבה תחילה, an act is seeded in its original thought.

So when the Gemara writes  גדול המצווה ועושה משאינו מצווה ועושה, perhaps it’s not only commenting on the greatness of one who is commanded over, or more than (מ), one who is not. It can alternatively be commenting on the fact that גדול המצווה ועושה, a person who is great by doing what he’s commanded to do should learn to be great in what he does מן שאינו מצווה ועושה, from a person who does the same task willingly. In other words, when we are obligated to do something, we should learn from the excitement and zerizus of one who does so by choice. גדול המצווה ועושה ממי שאינו מצווה ועושה. In this way, the “commandee” will be all the more greater.

In this way, may we treat both our private and public activities with the same meaningful enthusiasm, so that others can appreciate what we do so endearingly, within the walls of our home and without.