DECEMBER 7 • 2023 | 63

come back to the cistern 
later, when the others were 
elsewhere, and rescue 
Joseph. When the Torah 
says, “Reuben heard this 
and saved him from them,” 
it is using the principle 
that “God accounts a good 
intention as a deed.” 
Reuben wanted to save 
Joseph and intended to do 
so, but, in fact, he failed. 
The moment passed, and 
by the time he acted, it was 
already too late. Returning 
to the cistern, he found 
Joseph already gone, sold as 
a slave.
On this, a Midrash says: 
“Had Reuben known that 
the Holy One blessed be 
He would write about him, 
‘When Reuben heard this, 
he saved him,’ he would have 
lifted Joseph bodily onto his 
shoulders and taken him 
back to his father.” 
What does this mean?
Consider what would 
have happened had Reuben 
actually acted at that 
moment. Joseph would not 
have been sold as a slave. He 
would not have been taken 
to Egypt. He would not have 
worked in Potiphar’s house. 
He would not have attracted 
Potiphar’s wife. He would 
not have been thrown into 
prison on a false charge. He 
would not have interpreted 
the dreams of the butler and 
baker, nor would he have 
done the same two years 
later for Pharaoh. He would 
not have been made viceroy 
of Egypt. He would not have 
brought his family to stay 
there.
To be sure, God had 
already told Abraham, 
many years earlier: “Know 

with certainty that your 
descendants will be strangers 
in a country not their own, 
and there they will be 
enslaved and oppressed for 
400 years.” Gen. 15:13
The Israelites would have 
become slaves, come what 
may. But at least they would 
not have had this happen as 
a result of their own family 
dysfunctions. An entire 
chapter of Jewish guilt and 
shame might have been 
avoided.
If only Reuben had known 
what we know. If only he 
had been able to read the 
book. But we never can read 
the book that tells of the 
long-term consequences of 
our acts. We never know 
how much we affect the lives 
of others.

ONE ACT OF WELCOME
There is a story I find very 
moving, about how, in 1966, 
an 11-year-old African 
American boy moved with 
his family to a hitherto 
white neighborhood in 
Washington. Sitting with 
his brothers and sisters on 
the front step of the house, 
he waited to see how they 
would be greeted. They 
were not. Passersby turned 
to look at them, but no one 
gave them a smile or even a 
glance of recognition. All the 
fearful stories he had heard 
about how whites treated 
Blacks seemed to be coming 
true. Years later, writing 
about those first days in 
their new home, he says, “I 
knew we were not welcome 
here. I knew we would not 
be liked here. I knew we 
would have no friends here. 
I knew we should not have 

moved here.”
As he was thinking those 
thoughts, a woman passed by 
on the other side of the road. 
She turned to the children 
and with a broad smile said, 
“Welcome!” Disappearing 
into the house, she emerged 
minutes later with a tray 
laden with drinks and cream 
cheese and jam sandwiches 
which she brought over to 
the children, making them 
feel at home. That moment 
— the young man later wrote 
— changed his life. It gave 
him a sense of belonging 
where there was none before. 
It made him realize, at a 
time when race relations in 
the United States were still 
fraught, that a Black family 
could feel at home in a white 
area and that there could 
be relationships that were 
colorblind. Over the years, 
he learned to admire much 
about the woman across the 
street, but it was that first 
spontaneous act of greeting 
that became, for him, a 
definitive memory. It broke 
down a wall of separation 
and turned strangers into 
friends.
The young man, Stephen 
Carter, eventually became 
a law professor at Yale and 
wrote a book about what he 
learned that day. He called 
it Civility. The name of the 
woman, he tells us, was Sara 
Kestenbaum, and she died 
all too young. He adds that 
it was no coincidence that 
she was a religious Jew. “In 
the Jewish tradition,” he 
notes, such civility is called 
“chessed — the doing of 
acts of kindness — which 
is in turn derived from the 
understanding that human 

beings are made in the 
image of God.
“Civility,” he continues, 
“itself may be seen as part 
of chessed: It does indeed 
require kindnesses toward 
our fellow citizens, including 
the ones who are strangers, 
and even when it is hard.
“To this day, I can close 
my eyes and feel on my 
tongue the smooth, slick 
sweetness of the cream 
cheese and jelly sandwiches 
I gobbled on that summer 
afternoon when I discovered 
how a single act of genuine, 
unassuming civility can 
change a life forever.”
A single life, says 
the Mishnah, is like a 
universe. Change a life, 
and you begin to change 
the universe. That is how 
we make a difference: one 
life at a time, one day at a 
time, one act at a time. We 
never know in advance what 
effect a single act may have. 
Sometimes we never know 
it at all. Sara Kestenbaum, 
like Reuben, never did have 
the chance to read the book 
that told the story of the 
long-term consequences of 
that moment. But she acted. 
She did not hesitate. Neither, 
said Maimonides, should we. 
Our next act might tilt the 
balance of someone else’s life 
as well as our own.
We are not inconsequential. 
We can make a difference to 
our world. When we do so, 
we become God’s partners 
in the work of redemption, 
bringing the world that is a 
little closer to the world 
that ought to be. 

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948-

2020) was a global religious leader. 

