“The Use and Misuse of Money”

Parashat Ki Tissa — March 13, 2004

Our sages have written that one does not have to guard himself against a really bad person who expresses his evil openly, nor against a really pious person whom one knows to be sincere, but against a person who acts as if he [or she] were righteous… yet in money matters is a crook. True piety is determined by one’s attitude to money, for only he who is reliable in money matters may be considered pious.*

During the last several years, our country has been wracked by a series of financial scandals. Certain company names no longer evoke the particular business that was their focus, as much as they do lying and thievery.

Similarly, the names of certain individuals—even celebrities—previously known for their expertise or taste or talent, have been brought low, forever to be associated in the public’s mind with greed, and its partner, deception.

Money, it seems, is so attractive that no matter how much we have, we want to spend it, and we want more of it! And when we hear that people are succumbing to the temptation to pursue wealth at any cost, can’t we relate to that? Don’t we recognize that temptation within us as well?

Even in the absence of corruption, there are moral concerns about money. Concerns about the proper attitude toward, the pursuit of and the use of money are as old as the Bible, which sometimes communicates its concerns in very subtle ways.

For example, this week’s parashah, Ki Tissa, begins by talking about money. We learn about the need for every Israelite to contribute half a shekel. “The rich shall not pay more, and the poor shall not pay less.” Immediately thereafter, the text talks about the sink in the sanctuary at which Aaron and the other priests are to wash their hands. Why? Of course, you have to mention the sink somewhere, but why here?

1. Perhaps it is a warning: some of the money coming in may be ill-gotten gain. This raises the question whether such money may be accepted.

2. Perhaps it is to suggest that any contact with money can sully one; that money is inherently dirty.

3. Maybe it is to remind us that, though it needn’t be, money can be dirty. It can be used to further the good, but it can also be used to detract from the good.

Over the last several weeks I’ve had more conversations than I’d care to recount with people about the new Mel Gibson film. And whereas with Christians the conversations have often focused on the subject matter of the film, with Jews they have often focused on the morality of paying to see it in the first place. “I don’t feel comfortable,” one person told me, “rewarding the production of this film with my money!” People realize that they don’t want their money supporting causes with which they don’t agree. And that’s a reasonable argument.

But we live today in what’s been called, ad nauseum, a global economy. How careful can we be? Can we ever be sure that, when we purchase sneakers or sweatshirts, or washing machines or cars, or even fruits and vegetables, that our money will be for good and not for evil? For many years, Jews in this country refrained from buying Volkswagens or other German cars. They saw them as symbols of Nazism, and saw them as supporting the enemies of the Jewish people. I remember growing up with that consciousness, realizing that no self-respecting Jew I knew would drive a German car. And then I remember two incidents from my teenage years that confused me. The first was when the youth director at my synagogue drove me once to a USY event in his car. It was a Volkswagen Beetle. I just couldn’t understand it. Then I went to Israel and I saw all sorts of German buses and cars, and I was told: All this has come about through the reparations agreements that Germany signed with Israel. Those incidents confused me, but they also enlightened me.

Maybe the old rules about using your money to support your friends and holding it back from your enemies no longer apply? It’s puzzling, and yet, fundamentally, today’s Torah reading does suggest, strongly, that how we use our money does matter, that we can and should be careful with how our money is used. After all, the heart of our Torah portion concerns the story of the golden calf, constructed with people’s gold rings. How corrupt a symbol can you have? Yet, our maftir portion teaches us about the red heifer: a cow, contributed by the community, whose ashes can help people achieve purification from impurity.

It’s as if the Torah is asking us: Which cow are you going to put your money into? The cow of corruption or the cow of purity? Will you use your money to further negative ends, or will you use your money to further the good in the world?

That’s really the question.

We Jews have never believed that money is inherently evil. Do you remember the exchange that Tevye the Milkman has with Pertchik in The Fiddler on the Roof? Perchik, the socialist, says, “Money is the world’s curse.” And Tevye responds, “May God smite me with this curse, and may I never recover!”

We should relate to money the same way we relate to any other of our natural desires. Like our urges for food or sex or power, our focus should be on how we manage our appetites, and whether our focus remains on the enhancement of holiness.

We should, of course, fulfill all of the prohibitions, all of the negative mitzvot associated with money. We shouldn’t steal; we shouldn’t covet that which isn’t ours. We shouldn’t waste money, any more than we should waste any other resource. “Bal Tashhit,” the mitzvah not to waste, is interpreted to mean that we shouldn’t buy something we don’t need, and then throw it out.

But our tradition also tells us how to spend money. Our tradition tells us that we should put our money into beautifying our observance of mitzvot. For example, we should go out of our way to buy a nice tallit, a nice kippah. We should, on Sukkot, buy a nice etrog and a fresh lulav. On Pesach, too, we should beautify our seder table. Every year, for example, it’s nice to have a new dish to put on the table, a new haggadah, a new matzah cover or afikoman bag. We need to use our money in ways that enhance holiness in our lives. That’s a good thing. That’s a healthy way to channel our desire to spend.

And so, as Pesach nears, as we get closer to that magnificent holy day celebrating our redemption from slavery, let’s consciously try to examine how we use whatever money, whatever wealth God has put into our hands. Let’s try not to be greedy. But let’s go further than that. Let’s try to use it, as much as possible, to further the good, the holy, the beautiful.

Shabbat Shalom.

*Zvi Hirsh Koidonover (d. 1712) (Quoted in Voices of Wisdom, Francine Klagsbrun, ed., p. 308)