A smile is a curve that sets everything straight. -- Phyllis Diller
The fable is told about a group of frogs travelling through the woods, when two of them fell into a deep pit. The other frogs peered in and told the two that they were doomed since it was impossible to jump out. Still, they tried mightily to do so.
One of the frogs eventually became discouraged by the onlookers’ words and gave up and died, but the second frog kept jumping. It seemed that the more the other frogs discouraged him, the harder he tried to escape, until he managed to jump out of the pit!
“Didn’t you hear us?” asked the frogs.
“I’m a bit hard of hearing,” the frog answered. “I thought you were cheering me on.”
That is the power of encouragement.
After being victimized by trumped up charges, Yosef found himself languishing in an Egyptian jail, surely with a lot on his mind. One day, he noticed that two of Paroh’s officers, jailed for their own offenses, looked a bit out of sorts. “And Yosef came to them in the morning and he saw them and behold they were downcast. And he inquired of the officers of Paroh who were with him in the prison of his master saying, ‘Why are your faces troubled today?’” (Bereishis 40:6-7).
Now, these were the very officers who had conspired with Potiphar to imprison Yosef in the first place. Yosef could hardly be faulted were he to treat them with contempt, let alone turn a blind eye to their apparent despondency.
But Yosef did just the opposite. He perceived their pain. And then he attempted to lift their spirits (see e.g. Rabbeinu Bachaye ad loc.). Despite his own troubles, Yosef still maintained his concern for others and sought to ease their despair.[1] And in the end, Yosef was rescued for his efforts—it was only because he engaged the officers in discussion that they learned of his ability to interpret dreams, ultimately recommending him to Paroh when he was later troubled by his own dreams (see Emes L’Yaakov ad loc.).
A few weeks before his passing, R’ Yechezkel Sarna, head of the Chevron Yeshiva, pushed himself to join the yeshiva students for Maariv, despite feeling ill and weak. Arriving at the yeshiva, he realized that the students had already concluded Maariv, but he continued up the steps anyway. When asked why he bothered, R’ Chazkel explained, “Davening with the congregation fulfills a rabbinic obligation, but offering encouraging words to the students fulfills the Torah command to ‘Love your neighbor.’” He was suffering, but he still felt obligated to offer encouragement to others.
Offering words of succor to the broken-hearted is not simply a nice gesture—it is an obligation. “When you see that someone is sad, there is an obligation to try to console him. This is a fulfillment of the mitzva to comfort mourners, which includes helping anyone overcome emotional suffering” (Ahavas Chesed 2:2; see Rambam, Hilchos Avel 14:1-2; see also Rambam, Hilchos Megilla 2:17). Under certain circumstances, it may even be permitted to lie to someone who is despondent if doing so will cheer him up (Niv Sefasayim pg. 76; see Nedarim 50a).
The reward for providing cheer and encouragement is greater than the reward for providing sustenance. “One who gives a coin to the poor is blessed with six blessings, and one who offers words of comfort is blessed with eleven blessings” (Bava Basra 9b; cf. Sukka 49b). In fact, the reward is a relatively easy ticket to the World to Come.
R’ Beroka was once walking in the marketplace with Eliyahu the Prophet, when he asked who among all the people in the market has a place in the World to Come (Ta’anis 22a). At first, Eliyahu found only a few worthy people, but then two clowns entered the marketplace. “These, too, are worthy of the World to Come,” Eliyahu said.
R’ Beroka wondered how two clowns could merit such distinction. “What is your occupation?”
“We are clowns,” the men answered. “We go to cheer up those who are distressed.”
So how do we lift the spirits of those in need? Does it require profound words of wisdom? A close relationship with the distressed? Deep insight into the human psyche?
Not really.
It could be as easy as a friendly greeting or a smile. We are taught to “always be the first to greet every person” (Avos 4:20), a teaching elevated to an art form by R’ Yochanan ben Zakai, who initiated a greeting with everyone he encountered, including non-Jews (Brachos 17a). Indeed, according to some, greeting others is a Mitzva M’Divrei Kabbala—an absolute commandment borne of tradition (see Menoras HaMa’or 6:2:1-2; Tehillim 34:15; see also Bereishis 29:4 and Ralbag ad loc.). Given the benefits to the recipient, it’s easy to understand why.
R’ Shlomo Freifeld z”tl, the Rosh Yeshiva of Sh’or Yoshuv, was renowned for his ability to breathe life into others—including utter strangers—with so much as a friendly greeting. After R’ Shlomo passed away, one of his students went to purchase a car, and the dealer asked about R’ Shlomo.
“How is the rabbi from Far Rockaway?”
“Which one?” the student asked.
“The one from Central Avenue.”
“Oh, he passed away.”
With a pained look on his face, the dealer bellowed, “That was my rabbi!”
The dealer explained how, years earlier, his fist job had been with a car dealership near Sh’or Yoshuv. Occasionally, he was required to open the shop early and, on one such morning, it was dark and bitter cold, and he was feeling miserable and alone.
“At eight o’clock, I noticed the rabbi being pushed in his wheelchair toward the synagogue. The rabbi saw me standing in the doorway and smiled. ‘You have such a beautifully decorated window. It’s so colorful and inviting. Have a nice day.’
“And, with that, he continued on his way. I felt like a person again.”
No less valuable than the friendly salutation is the simple smile, which is why we must greet others with a joy—or, at least, with a cheerful face (compare Avos 1:15 and 3:12; see Orchos Chaim 57). A smile is far more valuable than a tangible gift (Kesubos 111b; Avos D’Rabbi Nosson 13). In fact, R’ Eliyahu Dessler once admonished a student walking around with a long face. “You are like a thief! You have no right to deprive your fellow human beings of the pleasantness of a cheerful face.”
R’ Samson Raphael Hirsch explained the value of a smile as follows: “A smile costs nothing, but gives much. It enriches those who receive, without making poorer those who give. It takes but a moment, but the memory of it sometimes lasts forever. None is so rich or mighty that he can get along without it, and none is so poor but that he can be made rich by it. A smile creates happiness in the home, fosters good will in business, and is the countersign of friendship. It brings rest to the weary, cheer to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and is nature’s best antidote for trouble. Yet it cannot be bought, begged, borrowed, or stolen, for it is something that is of no value to anyone until it is given away. Some people are too tired to give you a smile. Give them one of yours, as none needs a smile so much as he who has no more to give.”
People in need of encouragement abound. By offering that encouragement—a positive word, a compliment, a greeting, even a smile—we emulate G-d Himself. “For so said the Exalted and Uplifted One, Who dwells forever and Whose name is holy: I abide in exaltedness and holiness, but I am with the despondent and lowly of spirit, to revive the spirit of those feeling low and to revive the heart of the despondent” (Yeshaya 57:15). That’s awfully good company.
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[1] Perhaps this offers new insight into the teaching that “even if a sharp sword is placed against a person’s neck, he should not abandon mercy” (Berachos 10a). While this plainly means that one should not abandon hope that he will be the recipient of mercy, perhaps it also could be understood to mean that even while one is himself in danger, he should not abandon his mercy for others.