Behar: The Hen and the Pig

"When your brother becomes impoverished and is unable to support himself in the community, you must come to his aid." (Lev. 25:35)

The Maggid of Dubno was once collecting for a charitable cause when he visited a wealthy man with a reputation for being a miser. Rabbi Yaakov tried appealing to his sense of generosity by citing examples of poorer members of the community who nonetheless donated to the cause.

The wealthy man, however, refused to help. He even explained why he could not contribute. "Rabbi, I will tell you a secret: I have prepared my will, and most of my money will go to charity. So you understand why I cannot give you anything today."

The Maggid responded by asking, "Do you know the difference between a hen and a pig?"

The wealthy man, surprised by the rabbi's question, just stared.

Unperturbed, the Maggid continued:

"A hen is a small animal, and does not have much to give. Her eggs are light, weighing only a few ounces, And yet the farmer takes care of her like a baby. Even if she should leave the coup and make a mess in the house, the farmer will not harm her.

"The pig, on the other hand, is much different story. It is a large animal, providing many
pounds of meat and lard. You would think that such an animal is quite valuable. And yet no one is ever nice to the pig. If it leaves its sty, it will be driven back with a broomstick. And if the pig dares to enter the farmer's house, it will get a beating it will not soon forget."

"Get to the point, Rabbi," said the man impatiently. "What is the reason for this discrimination?"

"That is exactly what I want to explain," replied the Maggid. "The hen may not have much, but what she gives, she gives graciously each day, as long as she lives. The pig, on the other hand, has much more to offer, but it will only give after its death."

 The Maggid turned to the miser. "Now you tell me: which of the two is the worthier donor?"

(Adapted from "The Maggid and His Parables," pp. 216-217.)

The Work of a Maggid

A fellow rabbi once stopped the Maggid. “I listened to your lecture and enjoyed it immensely. You certainly deserve the honor and respect that you receive. But I have a question. We both base our sermons on the same Torah; we both expound on verses from the Torah and statements of the Talmudic sages. We should both expect to receive the same recognition for our efforts. Yet while your talks are greeted with much enthusiasm, I receive little thanks for my efforts. Why am I so unfortunate?”

The Maggid thought for a moment, and responded, "With all due respect to you, as well as to the honor of the Torah, permit me compare the two of us to two thieves, each of whom stole a pair of shoes.

“Each pair was worth the same amount, thirty dollars. The first thief immediately re-sold his pair, and picked up ten dollars for them. He did not make much profit.

“But the second thief had a different modus operandi. He took the shoes home, and went to work. He opened up all the seams, re-designed the shoes and finished them according to his own concept of style and beauty. When he was done, he polished the shoes until they gleamed. When he went to sell them, he asked for fifty dollars – and that's the price he got.

“The same is true of our work. We both took precious merchandise from the same source - the Torah. But our 'returns' are a function of how much effort we put into fashioning that merchandise.

The Sages taught, ‘The reward is commensurate with the effort’ (Avot 5:26).  The praise and honor we receive for our efforts is in proportion to the time and effort we spent analyzing the wisdom that we took from the Torah, and in our work in skillfully preparing the lecture.”


Adapted from "The Maggid and his Parables," pp. 271-272.