I Don't Give A Darn - Yom Kippur Afternoon - The Holiness Code

SHANAH TOVAH UM’TOOKAH, a healthy, happy, and sweet new year to you.

It’s actually amazing that, almost 75 years after its debut, Abbott and Costello’s “Who’s On First?” has held up as a brilliant and hysterical piece of comedy. Though I have listened to it probably hundreds of times, I still refuse to skip past it when it comes up on my iPod, and I still laugh just as hard, if not harder, than the first time I heard it when I wasn’t yet 10 years old.

Towards the end of the bit, when Costello is, maybe, finally getting it, he says, “I throw the ball to Who. Whoever it is drops the ball, and the guy runs to second. Who picks up the ball and throws it to What, What throws it to I Don’t Know, I Don’t Know throws it back to Tomorrow—triple play! Another batter gets up and it’s a long fly ball to Because. Why? I Don’t Know, he’s on third, and I don’t give a darn.” Abbot says, “What?” Costello says, “I said, I—don’t—give—a darn!” And Abbott says, “Oh, that’s our shortstop!”  

With this year’s opportunity to take a closer look at the Holiness Code, the portion from Leviticus we read on Yom Kippur afternoon, two verses in particular stood out to me, and called to mind the conclusion of “Who’s On First?”:

“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not pick your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen fruit of your vineyard; le’ani, v’la-ger ta’azov otam, ani Adonai Eloheichem, you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I the Eternal am your God.”

Here it is, literally commanded of us to give up some of what is technically ours for those in the community who need it more than we do. And, unfortunately, when we look at what we have, all that is in our figurative harvests and vineyards, all too many of us look away and say, “I don’t give a darn.”

There is no doubt that the slumping economy has impacted all of us, some more than others. But we absolutely, unequivocally, in no uncertain terms, have to give something. Simply put, there is always something we can give. We all have our indulgences—the things we do spend money on for ourselves because we want to—iPads, clothes, concerts, drinks with friends. And that’s not an indictment of anyone. Because life is to be enjoyed, and there’s nothing wrong with making ourselves happy.

But, my friends, the challenge—amid the High Holy Day themes of sacrifice and doing without—is to see where each of us could do just a little less of those things—one less gadget, one less concert, one less dinner or round of drinks, or pair of designer jeans, and put something—anything—away to give to charity. See if you can make one more contribution this year than you did last year. Even if it’s $18 or $36 or $72—whatever it is. Certainly the thought is not complete on its own, and certainly the amount of the contribution does matter, but it’s like any other human behavior—it’s something we learn by teaching ourselves, by getting ourselves into the regular habit, the custom of giving. The Sages teach that mitzvah goreret mitzvah, that one good deed leads to another, and another and another.            

Give a darn. Give a little now to one charity, next year give a little more, or give the same to two, and so on. And I bet you’ll find over time that you actually enjoy it; not only that it makes you feel good, but it makes you feel holy as well.

SHANAH TOVAH UM’TOOKAH, G’MAR CHATIMAH TOVAH.