Did you see the story recently about Rob Leibowitz, the 60-year-old single father of 5, whose kidneys were failing? After enduring dialysis treatments that were four hours each, three days a week, and learning that he was on an organ transplant waitlist that was 7 to 10 years long, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
You see, his search for a donor was complicated by his blood
type, O Positive, which makes him a universal kidney donor, but only able to
receive a kidney from a person with the O blood type. His children could not
donate to him for medical reasons. It looked like he might not get a kidney in
time.
So he had a t-shirt made – simple white with black lettering
that read: “In Need Of Kidney - O Positive -
Call” and it listed a phone number. Then he took his shirt and his kids to
Disney world.
As they walked around the
park, people snapped pictures of the shirt. They shared them on Facebook. The
post went viral. Soon after, at least 100 phone calls came in – 50 with serious
offers.
According to the Washington Post: “Donating a kidney
requires a long screening process, including extensive medical tests and a
psychological evaluation…After initial testing, three potential donors went to
New York for additional testing, which included meetings with psychiatrists,
social workers and a surgeon. Then there were blood tests, X-rays and tissue
tests. None of the three were a match.”
Then he heard from Richie Sully, another single dad, who
took at 16hr bus ride to New York for testing. Every hour was worth it, because
they were a match.
The surgery was completed on Jan 18. I saw the two men
post-op on the Today Show. They’re now best friends. When asked why he did it,
Richie Sully said, “Because I could.”
Who or what do you think of when I ask you
to think of your “other half?” A spouse, a dog, a friend, a sibling? So often
we limit our “other half” to something romantic – but the concept of the
invisible missing piece of you can be even more transformative than that.
It’s Shabbat Shekalim, a special Shabbat in
the Hebrew calendar. The day reminds us of a specific mitzvah that was required
of the Israelites when they were wandering in the desert – each person had to
donate half a shekel to the upkeep of the desert tabernacle.
The half shekel was mandated as part of the
census – meaning it would do two things: account for a person in the general
population, and it would sustain the portable sanctuary until it came to its
permanent residence in Jerusalem.
But why count the half-shekels and not the
people themselves if a census was what we were really after?
The Torah says that the half-shekel was to
“atone” for each person, that is, some interpret, for the sin of worshipping
the Golden Calf. The Israelites atoned for their descent into idolatry by building
up God’s sanctuary. Instead of giving their gold for an idol, they handed over
their precious metal toward a positive, selfless, communal endeavor and to a
God that, most importantly, they could not see.
It’s as if the Torah is telling us that a
person doesn’t count until they contribute something constructive to the
community. Being a body in a crowd isn’t enough. That body must give something
– physically, financially – to a communal, holy endeavor.
But why only half a shekel? One, to keep it
fair. Everyone from the poor to the rich was expected to participate and it was
important to stress that each person was worth the same amount.
And then there’s a more symbolic
explanation. Half a shekel implies tha…there is another half somewhere. An
invisible half. A Godly half of the human shekel.
Which makes me think about value and the
things we’re willing to pay for these days.
The internet has opened us up to the
incredible value of sharing. Think of how often you offer to “share” something
– either a picture on Facebook or a file on dropbox. Nowadays, we transmit
knowledge widely and without cost. What an incredible re-introduction of such a
compassionate social gesture – sharing!
But what’s come with this great invention
is an antipathy toward paying for things. For example, most synagogues around
the country collect dues. Same with many gyms, professional associations and
other “member-driven” organizations. Post-2008, Americans, on a whole, have
been understandably more anxious about their disposable income. We pay for
things that we deem necessary to our everyday lives, things that we pay for and
then immediately use.
So what about something we might not use
every day? Why still contribute for its upkeep and not just for the service we
draw from it?
The answer begins with the other-half a shekel.
It’s the holy value we don’t readily see in some of the places where we spend our
shekels – synagogue being one of them.
For example, the other day I was on my way
to write this very drash at my top-secret sermon-writing location. Don’t ask
where, it’s top secret!
I was driving through my neighborhood,
thinking through my half-baked ideas on this subject. As I came to a small intersection,
I saw a cab dropping off an older woman at a home. She started to scale a
steep, icy driveway. She was not very steady on her feet. Almost without
thinking, I pulled over, put on my flashers, got out and offered to help her up
the driveway. She put her hand out. Holding hands, I guided her to the steps
then up to the door. “Thank you, baby!” she offered. I told her to have a good
day and headed back to my car.
I’m not telling you this story to make you
think I’m a good person. Sometimes I question just how good I am. Instead, I
tell you this story to illustrate the invisible other-half of the shekel.
Because I was writing this sermon, because my identity as a Jew and as a rabbi
was fresh in my mind, because I was psychically connected to this very special
community of people, I was moved to righteous action in that moment.
We don’t always think of the long-term,
indescribable, invisible benefit we derive from our connection to a particular
community. But my connection to you all pushes for me, demands for me to be a
better person. You make me seek out my other half a shekel and I find it in you
and in what I understand to be God. That’s a value that you don’t reap the
immediate rewards from, but should be counted nonetheless.
Hm, when you look at it this way, it turns
out to be a pretty good deal: a whole shekel for the price of a half. Not bad.
Shabbat Shalom!
Closing
“It’s exciting when you find parts of yourself
in someone else.”
The internet attributes this quote to someone named
Annaka Silvia.
The internet offers no other insight into who this person
is.
Isn’t it fitting that the source of this inspirational
quote – so perfect for our theme tonight – is invisible. Does the author even
exist?
God of our ancestors, unseen creator of connections and
righteous action, may we never stop searching for our other half-a-shekel, that
divine part of ourselves or another person or a community that holds us accountable.
May we be counted among blessings, manufacturers of holiness, and keep reaching
for the wholeness of shalom.
