The Pauper's Present
One day, a prominent minister arrived in a city, and, naturally, the locals turned out to greet him. It wasn't every day that a high-ranking official shows up in town. People from all walks of life came with gifts—gifts of every shape and size. The minister, being a busy man, appointed a secretary to receive these gifts. A wise move, given that one man can’t possibly manage such an avalanche of offerings.
But then, through the crowd, came a destitute man, clutching his present. He wasn’t willing to hand it to the secretary. No, he insisted on delivering it to the minister in person. After a good deal of persistence—and more than a few hours of waiting—the poor man finally secured a brief audience with the great minister.
The minister graciously accepted the gift. He opened it, expecting something grand—or at least meaningful. Instead, he found… well, not much. Nothing particularly remarkable. Certainly not on par with some of the extravagant gifts the others had brought. He raised an eyebrow.
"Tell me," he asked, "why did you go to such trouble to bring this to me in person? You could have given it to my secretary. He’s quite capable of handling these matters."
The poor man, undeterred, explained:
"Your honor, my gift is small—especially for someone as great as you. But I knew that if you saw me, if you understood how little I have, then you would appreciate its true value. Then you would treasure it just as you treasure the lavish gifts of the wealthy. That’s why I had to deliver it myself—so that you would see the person behind the gift."
The Meal Offering
But the Sages remind us: "The amount is not important, but whether one directs one's heart to heaven." (Menachot 110a). It's not the value of the gift, but the sincerity of the giver.
Take, for example, the minchah, the meal offering. Of all the Temple offerings, only this simple gift of flour is described as being brought by a nefesh—a soul (Leviticus 2:1). Why? Because it was the offering of the poor. “For whom is a meal offering most common? The one who has little else to give. And so, says the Holy One: I count it for him as if he has offered his very soul” (Menachot 104b).
The Midrash sees this reflected in the words of Psalms: “For [God] does not despise nor abhor the cry of the poor” (Psalms 22:25). Just as God does not turn away from the prayers of the needy, neither does He turn away from their offerings.
But there is a second half to the verse: “He did not hide His face from him.” God does not reject the poor man’s gift—provided the poor man does not hide his face from Him.
We judge by appearances—wealth, status, fine clothing. Even in acts of generosity, we measure by the visible: the size of the donation, the prestige of the gift. But as the prophet reminds us: “Man sees what is visible to the eyes, but the Eternal sees into the heart” (I Samuel 16:7).
God sees into the heart. He sees the soul behind the offering. Like the poor man in the story, we must bring ourselves to God—and then, no matter how modest, our offering will be valued.
