I once read a book for female baalas teshuvahs (the title escapes me at the moment) where an anecdote from a Rebbetzin was given. It’s a story that I have heard more than once, with slightly different details, so I will paraphrase what I remember.
A Rabbi and Rebbetzin attended a networking conference for Jewish professional women. The Rabbi was going to give a keynote speech on halachic issues in the workplace. The Rabbi went off to a side room to look over his notes, leaving the Rebbetzin to mingle and meet with the women at the conference.
Walking among the attendees during the hors devours hour, there was a distinguished representation of doctors, lawyers, CPAs, educators, and even a few elected officials. Upon introduction, each woman asked the other what she did for a living. When the Rebbetzin was asked her profession, she replied that she was a stay at home mother. Hearing her response, the women’s eyes glazed over and they quickly ended the conversation to move on to someone with a more illustrious career.
Finally, the Rebbetzin grew weary of being dismissed. When the next woman she met greeted her, they exchanged names and pleasantries. This time, when the inevitable question about her profession came up, she replied that she ran a non-profit home for unwanted children. Her companion exclaimed that she must be a saint! The Rebbetzin went on to explain that she cooked, cleaned, tutored, clothed, budgeted, and managed medical care for eight little souls, whom no one else would take responsibility for. It was a 24/7 career, but well worth it in the end.
The other woman shook her head in admiration and called some of her friends over. They just had to hear about the noble work the Rebbetzin was doing to help this houseful of wayward children! With a crowd of women paying rapt attention, the Rebbetzin stood in the center of the circle and described an average day in her busy life.
“With all that you do,” one woman cried,” I hope you are being paid a good salary!”
“Actually,” the Rebbetzin replied, “I don’t make a salary at all. You see, the children I speak of are my own. I am a stay at home mother.”
Of course, the women listening were floored and appropriately chastised.
This is a nice story that portrays how stay at home mothers are undervalued, but I wonder if we don’t do something similar in our own Jewish communities. Every orthodox community depends on the tzedakah and elbow grease of its members. Without donations and volunteer labor most shuls, schools, kollels, and other communal organizations couldn’t operate. On any given night, there will always be people bustling about to volunteer their time, attend dinners, parlor meetings, and all sorts of various fundraisers.
In many cases, aside from doing a mitzvah, attending board meetings or participating in volunteer projects replaces other forms of socialization that happen in the secular world. Instead of bowling night, it’s packing up food for the needy. Instead of poker night, it’s making fundraising calls at the school. Instead of heading to the local bar, it’s stuffing envelopes for the yearly banquet. Although the motive is positive, the end result is many nights spent away from the family.
Where all this activity turns even more iffy, is when we are given the message that giving tzedakah and doing chesed only count for something when you are helping people outside of your family. A friend and I were having a discussion about the chesed hours requirement at our kid’s school. Many Jewish day schools, in order to teach the importance of doing chesed, will make mandatory volunteer hours outside of school that each student must complete. The type of chesed done must be approved by the school.
In our school, students may not count their chesed hours from activities done at home. We did manage to get our child special permission to do chesed hours at home this year, since I broke my leg. We are fortunate that an exception was made. However, my friend said that her request for her child to help out at home, due to her bad back, was not accepted. Hence, she has to hire outside help, while her child does her chesed hours for another organization. Another example would be that visiting an elderly grandparent would not fulfill the chesed requirement, while visiting elderly strangers in a nursing home would.
I can remember being the harried mother of 3 children, ages 3 and under. I was working at the time, and practically a single parent, as my husband was in his medical residency program. I saw examples around me of the ultimate balabusta – the modern day Jewish superwoman who worked, ran the home, raised the kids, and was a baalas chesed in her community. I desperately wanted to emulate them. A few years before the children were born, I tried to get involved in various communal chesed organizations. One way I used to volunteer my time was cooking meals for women who just had babies or were recovering from illness. However, by the time I had my 3 oldest children, it was getting difficult for me to even manage cooking for my own family.
Unfortunately, I had not yet mastered the fine art of saying no. I really felt that if I didn’t help those outside my own daled amos, I was not fulfilling the mitzvah of doing chesed. One morning, I woke up to the usual bustling routine of getting myself ready for work and the kids ready for preschool and day care, only to see a large red X on the kitchen calendar. That X was a reminder that I was supposed to have delivered a dinner to a new mother the night before. My stomach sank, and I felt like the worst person in the world. I called the meal coordinator and apologized profusely. I called the new parents and did the same. I sent over a meal from the local pizza shop the next night. I felt horrible. I realized that I had reached my breaking point, and that overextending myself had only resulted in broken promises.
Pouring my heart out to an older and wiser friend, she told me that chesed starts at home. What good is making a hot meal for someone else, while your own kids eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? What good is giving your last penny of tzedakah, when your own bills are going unpaid? Beyond that, what good is giving your limited tzedakah dollars to strangers, when your parents/siblings/grandparents/cousins, etc. are struggling to make shabbos and yom tov?
Does chesed and tzedakah only count outside of your own daled amos? Is that the lesson we want our kids to learn when they are told that only chesed done for strangers counts? The social status that one receives when doing chesed for others is a great motivator. I am not saying that people don’t have good motives – surely those that devote themselves to helping others and giving tzedakah are doing a mitzvah. However, especially for women, how many opportunities do we have to distinguish ourselves outside the home within the community, but for the chesed we do? Yes, doing chesed is a laudable activity, but we have to remember that it’s not chesed if we are working ourselves to the bone and neglecting our own family’s needs in the process.
