Revealing

“I remember that everybody was trying to protect you. And I’m learning today that you experienced that as one of the great difficulties of that time” journalist Haviv Rettig-Gur recently said to Shaked Haran. We met her last week. He concludes, “Because what you needed was clarity and information.” 

“Yeah, Yes” she responded.“I felt very strong. Confident in my ability to hold everything together. I was sure that I’m not going to break.” 

I love when deep conversations include revelations like this one. At the time, Haviv recalls, sheltering Shaked from potentially devastating news was thought to be necessary. This would protect her. How often do we keep terrible news from a loved one, particularly if sharing it is not necessary and we know it will cause them pain. Sometimes we’re right and sometimes we’re not. Our intent may be sincere and pure, but we can’t decide or feel precisely what others feel. We desperately want to help. But what’s helpful for one person, may not be for another. 

Plumbing the inner ducts and passageways of the heart is intimate work. I may not even know myself what I’ll find to be helpful or hurtful. 

This week’s portion of Torah contains a favorite passage that touches on generosity’s inner-life. Voluntary offerings were brought every morning (ba-boker ba-boker) (Ex. 36:3). Instead of translating the Hebrew as every morning, it can be literally translated to mean the most morning part of the morning. That is, at the earliest hour when the stars fade and the sky begins to lighten. Why would someone bring gifts then, when it’s still quite dark? Because they would not be seen or recognized. Their generosity would be completely anonymous. This is private goodness. 

To be clear, public goodness is essential. You and I can’t be expected to invent on our own, how or when to get generously motivated. But knowing that some of it is entirely behind closed doors is also important. It keeps us tuned to the inner-frequency of intrinsic kindness. 

Shaked added something more: “Actually, this was the time in my life that I had the least fear in the world. I saw myself as on a mission, as a vessel for my family in Gaza, and because I’m not the focus, nothing can happen to me.”

It’s good advice. I hope you too find it revealing. And may you pursue your mission – with clarity and courage – embracing your role in your people’s liberation story with moral handsomeness.