5786 Parshas Behar-Bechukosai - Not All Heroes Wear Crates

Torah Parallels

Parshas Behar-Bechukosai

לעלוי נשמת האדא בת מרדכי

 Not All Heroes Wear Crates

In Parshas Behar, the Torah commands: “וְכִי יָמוּךְ אָחִיךָ… וְהֶחֱזַקְתָּ בּוֹ” — “If your brother becomes impoverished… you shall strengthen him” (Vayikra 25:35). Rashi explains that the Torah is teaching us not to wait until a person has completely collapsed financially before helping. Rather, one must help at the earliest signs of struggle, Rashi continues with the following illustration as an example: Once a donkey has fallen under its burden, even five people may struggle to lift it back up. But while it is beginning to slip, even one person can steady it and prevent the fall entirely. 

The question that comes to mind when reading this is what exactly is the chiddush (novelty) Rashi is adding? From reading the passuk alone, wouldn’t it be obvious to simply “help a brother in need”? 

Perhaps Rashi is teaching based on the pashut pshat of this mitzvah, that the mitzvah is unique because it isn’t merely a command to help others, but to develop the awareness to notice when help is needed.  Embedded in this are a couple of profound lessons about how the Torah views the responsibility we must have toward others. 

First, the Torah is demanding sensitivity and awareness. Collapse is easy to notice, but the Torah asks us to notice the onset of instability. Before a person collapses, be it physically, mentally, emotionally, or financially, there are usually subtle signs first. Perhaps a slight wobble, a newly developed habit, a change in routine or behavior, etc., that point to a quiet struggle beneath the surface. The mitzvah of “וְהֶחֱזַקְתָּ בּוֹ” requires paying attention to those nuances before the situation becomes obvious to everyone else. 

Second, the Torah teaches us not to leave people with the hope that “they’ll figure it out.” Oftentimes, even when we notice someone beginning to struggle, we reassure ourselves that things will probably work themselves out for them. Rashi emphasizes that our chiyuv and responsibility is not merely to hope things improve on their own, but to step in early and help restore stability.  

Taking these two ideas together, we also get a sense of how the Torah defines “heroism”. 

There is a certain prestige that comes with helping someone once they have already fallen. Public rescues are more visible, there is often recognition and appreciation, and the relief is more evident and measurable – like someone who comes to the rescue to lift the crate that fell from the donkey. However, from here we see that the Torah seems to place even greater value on the quieter form of heroism: the person who notices the shifting weight before the collapse, who adjusts the burden early, who prevents the fall from ever happening in the first place.  

Supporting another requires maintaining a level of sensitivity to those around us, and actively caring and being interested in others’ well-being, all without fanfare. No one applauds the friend who sensed emotional strain before anyone else noticed. No one celebrates the mentor who quietly intervened before failure occurred. No one sees the countless small acts of awareness, encouragement, and support that spared another person from eventually hitting the ground. Yet, this is what it truly means to be mechazek another.