Sometimes we can make a local impact without even knowing it. A couple months ago, Miriam
and I finally decided it was time to take the plunge and get a minivan. I would
give up my old car and inherit my wife's Subaru. We contacted an organization
called Vehicles for Change which accepts donated cars, repairs them when
possible and distributes them across three states. Two weeks later, a flatbed truck met me on
Eutaw Place, across from the shul, and drove my car toward the highway.
A couple weeks later, I got an email from
our emeritus rabbi who lives across the alley from us. “I think I saw your car in the neighborhood
today,” he said. “No, you must be
mistaken,” I replied, “I donated my car.”
But sure enough, parked around the corner from my house is my old car
with the same familiar stickers on the dash and the tell-tale portion of the
key I once broke off in trunk.
Rambam
tells us that it is a higher level of tzedakah to give anonymously – and I
certainly tried. But the story reminds
me how powerful it can be to support one's own neighborhood, one's own community. The Talmud says: Ani’ei ircha kodmim, the poor of your
own city (or community) come first, and we are reminded that we should construct our
dwelling places so as to provide access for the poor. Rashi adds that a gatehouse must be situated
in a way that ensures the owner of the home will hear the tza’akah of the ani, the
cry of the beggar looking for food (Bava
Kamma 7b).* This is how we harness the Jewish values of tzedakah and gemilut hesed.
The word "locovore" was Oxford's word-of-the-year in 2007. Eating locally is great, but perhaps we also need a word to express the value of volunteering and giving locally, something like "locanthroprist."
Definition: One who excels at locanthropy, of course.
*Thanks for Dr. Aryeh Cohen for introducing me to this beautiful text.
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