Parashas Shemos: Caring for Another Yid — Nosei Be'ol Im Chaveiro

Topics

• Where Do We See the Greatness of Moshe Rabbeinu?
• Nosei Be'ol Im Chaveiro: The Foundation of Geulah
• A Memory of My Zeide
• A Rav Who Is First a Yid
• The Yesod VeShoresh HaAvodah and the Jewish Soldiers
• Which Avodah Comes First?
• Why "Im Chaveiro"—With His Friend?
• "Vehinei Na'ar Bocheh" — Whose Cry Was It?
• The Baal HaTurim: Was It Aharon Who Was Crying?
• Why Rashi Says Both Eyes and Heart
• Seeing, Feeling, and Acting
• The Alter of Kelm and the Road Beneath His Feet
• The Chofetz Chaim and the Soldiers in the Trenches
• My Alter Zeide and the Jewish Refugees
• Vayeitzei: Moshe Went Out of Himself
• Even Our Tefillos Can Become Self-Centered
• What a Person Sees Depends on His Own Heart

Transcript

## Where Do We See the Greatness of Moshe Rabbeinu?

In this week's parashah we read about the beginning of **Galus Mitzrayim**—the *shibud*, the suffering of Klal Yisrael in Egypt. At the same time we read about the birth of Moshe Rabbeinu, his upbringing in Pharaoh's palace, and the first steps toward the *Geulah*.

There is a famous *ha'arah* from the *Baalei Mussar*: **Where does the Torah tell us why Moshe Rabbeinu was chosen?**

Think about it. Moshe Rabbeinu would become the *goel Yisrael*, the greatest of the *Nevi'im*, the one through whom the Torah was given, and the *manhig* of Klal Yisrael. We might have expected the Torah to tell us all about the greatness of this extraordinary child. What was his brilliance? How did he learn? What special *yiras Shamayim* did he show? Where is the biography that would explain how such a person developed?

The Torah gives us very little of that. Instead it tells us about a young man raised in the royal palace who **went out to see his brothers**.

**"ויהי בימים ההם ויגדל משה ויצא אל אחיו וירא בסבלתם"** (Shemos 2:11). Moshe grew up, went out to his brothers, and saw their burdens. He saw an Egyptian striking a Hebrew, and he intervened. On the following day he went out again and found two men fighting. Eventually he had to flee Egypt.

Is that where we see the greatness of Moshe Rabbeinu? The *Baalei Mussar* say: **yes, precisely there**.

I saw this brought in the teachings of the Alter of Kelm and Reb Yerucham. They explain that the roots of Moshe's entire future are found in these words: **"ויצא אל אחיו וירא בסבלתם."** This is where we see the *middah* that made him a leader.

Rashi says on **"וירא בסבלתם"**: **"נתן עיניו ולבו להיות מיצר עליהם"**—he placed his eyes and his heart upon them so that he would feel pain over their suffering.

Do you hear that, *rabosai*? Moshe was living in the comfort of the palace. He didn't have to see the suffering of his brothers. He could have remained safe and comfortable. But he **went out**, looked at their suffering, and took it to heart. That is the *middah* of **נושא בעול עם חבירו**—bearing a burden together with another person. This is the beginning of the *Geulah*.

Let's understand why this *middah* is so fundamental.

## Nosei Be'ol Im Chaveiro: The Foundation of Geulah

There are two *mahalchim* in the *Baalei Mussar* about the greatness of **nosei be'ol im chaveiro**.

The first is that **Geulah requires Yidden to care about one another**. A nation cannot come out of its *galus* while everyone thinks only about himself. Moshe Rabbeinu became the *goel Yisrael* because he felt that another Yid's pain was his pain.

An approach attributed to the Alter of Kelm goes even further. The first *Geulah*, from Mitzrayim, teaches us the roots of the final *Geulah*. The Navi says **"כימי צאתך מארץ מצרים אראנו נפלאות"** (Michah 7:15)—as in the days of the Exodus, Hashem will show wonders. Just as the first *Geulah* was rooted in Moshe's concern for the suffering of Klal Yisrael, the ultimate *Geulah* also requires this *middah*.

But there is a second *mahalach*, and it may be even more basic. **Nosei be'ol im chaveiro is the foundation of being a Yid.** Before a person can grow into a *talmid chacham*, an *oved Hashem*, a *rosh yeshivah*, or a great leader, he must first be a Yid.

What does it mean to be a Yid? To be someone who can feel the pain of another Yid. That is the *yesod* upon which all the other *maalos* are built.

There is a famous *vort* attributed to the Kotzker about the words we say in *davening*: **"לעולם יהא אדם ירא שמים בסתר ובגלוי ומודה על האמת."** Don't race past the words. Read them with a pause: **"לעולם יהא אדם"**—first, be a *mentsh*, an *adam*. Then: **"ירא שמים"**—be a person with *yiras Shamayim*.

We used to have telegrams, and in a telegram you would say "stop" after each sentence. So here, too: *Le'olam yehei adam—stop! Yerei Shamayim—stop!* First you need an *adam*. Only then can you build the other *middos* upon that foundation.

What kind of *adam*? A person who does not walk away from another's suffering. He feels responsible. He is **nosei be'ol im chaveiro**.

## A Memory of My Zeide

I want to tell you a *maaseh*. In my *zeide's* time, *meshulachim* would travel from Williamsburg to Queens to collect for their *mosdos*. People came for small donations, but my *zeide* did more than hand over some money.

He made them breakfast. He would prepare coffee and eggs according to what each person liked, and then he would sit with the person and listen. It wasn't just a meal. He wanted to know how the person was doing, what his difficulties were, and how he could help.

A *meshulach* later told my father that he had looked forward to those visits not so much for the money as for the breakfast, the warmth, and the feeling that somebody truly cared about him.

I remember how my father repeated that story to me. That is the kind of thing I mean when I speak about the foundation of being a Yid. You don't merely give someone something; you make him feel that he matters.

## A Rav Who Is First a Yid

One of those *meshulachim* told us a story about a dispute over funds collected for a *mosad*. He was a Satmar *chassid* and needed someone to represent him in a **din Torah**. He went to the Satmar Rebbe and presented a list of prominent *rabbanim* and *dayanim*, asking whom he should choose.

The Rebbe looked through the names and, according to the story he told us, stopped at my *zeide's* name. He said that was the one to choose. Why? He made a sharp observation. There are many people with the title of *rav*, but you need someone who is first and foremost **a Yid**, and in addition happens to be a *rav*.

That *lashon* stayed with me.

Do you hear the *yesod*? Before all the titles, before all the positions, before all the *lomdus*, a person has to be a **Yid**. He must be someone who can be **nosei be'ol im chaveiro**. That is the foundation upon which he can become a great *talmid chacham* and *oved Hashem*.

## The Yesod VeShoresh HaAvodah and the Jewish Soldiers

Now let me tell you an extraordinary *maaseh* I saw associated with the introduction to **Yesod VeShoresh HaAvodah**.

There was a *tzaddik* associated with Horodna whose Erev Shabbos *avodah* was something to behold. He would prepare himself for Shabbos with *tevilah*, wear special white clothing, go to the beis haknesses, and read **Shir HaShirim** from a handwritten scroll with tremendous *deveikus* and *hislahavus*. The account describes the extraordinary spiritual power of that reading.

And there was another *tzaddik* in a later generation who was so occupied helping **Jewish soldiers** passing through his town that he did not arrive home for his Friday-night meal until very late. A guest had been waiting for him, and he explained where he had been.

He had to arrange places for these Jewish soldiers to eat, to sleep, and to feel cared for. These were not imaginary problems. They were Yidden who needed a warm bed and a hot meal.

The *tzaddik* drew a remarkable lesson from the comparison. In earlier generations, a person might have been able to devote his whole Erev Shabbos to an exalted *avodah* like reading Shir HaShirim with *deveikus*. But if that holy man had been faced with the needs of Jewish soldiers without food or lodging, surely he would have stopped his spiritual preparations and run to help them.

The exact names and transmitted wording in this account need to be checked inside the printed *hakdamah*. But the *yesod* being taught is clear: **The greatest *avodah* cannot be used as a reason to ignore a Yid who needs us.**

That is the foundation of **nosei be'ol im chaveiro**. It isn't an activity on the side of *avodas Hashem*. It is part of the very root of *avodas Hashem*.

Now I want to ask something practical. How does a person take this *yesod* into his own life?

## Which Avodah Comes First?

I want you to picture that holy Erev Shabbos. A *tzaddik* sits with his Shir HaShirim, filled with *kedushah* and *deveikus*. It is an extraordinary spiritual level. Then compare it with someone running around finding supper and beds for Jewish soldiers. Which one looks more elevated?

If we judge only by what appears spiritual, we might say the first. But the lesson of the story is that **the needs of another Yid can define what Hashem wants of a person at that moment**.

Don't misunderstand me. Reading Shir HaShirim with *deveikus* is a beautiful *avodah*. No one is diminishing it. But there are times when leaving even such a beautiful *avodah* to help a person in need is itself the greater *avodah*. The choice has to be made according to the need before us.

The account of the earlier *tzaddik* describes preparing for Shabbos with great holiness: *tevilah* on Erev Shabbos, special clothing, and Shir HaShirim from a scroll written with *kedushah*. The later *tzaddik* points out that times change, and so do the practical responsibilities placed upon us. Where people are suffering and need basic care, they cannot be ignored.

I want us to hear the *chiddush* without losing the simplicity. To a genuine *tzaddik*, the right choice may seem obvious. But many of us need to be reminded: **don't hide behind even the finest spiritual activities when another person urgently needs help**.

That does not mean a person should run after every distraction. It means learning to recognize another Yid's real suffering and taking it seriously.

Yet there is a further question. If all we take out of this *maaseh* is that we should house Jewish soldiers in a distant town, we have missed the practical lesson. Most of us are not going to be doing that today. So what is **nosei be'ol im chaveiro** for us?

## Why "Im Chaveiro"—With His Friend?

Look at the exact expression: **נושא בעול עם חבירו**. Why does it say **עם**, *with* his friend?

It could have said **נושא בעול חבירו**—he carries his friend's burden. What is added by **עם חבירו**?

Suppose my friend is carrying a heavy package. I help him carry it. We are both holding the weight. There are halachos of *perikah u'teinah*, of unloading and loading, where the person being helped must also participate. Is that what Chazal mean? That the other person must hold his side while I carry mine?

No. That is not the *yesod* I want to bring out.

Reb Yerucham explains that **nosei be'ol im chaveiro means the burden must become yours**. Don't think, "He has a problem, and I am kindly helping him with his problem." If you think only that way, you have already missed the *nekudah*. You have to feel: **his problem is my problem; his pain is my pain**.

When Moshe Rabbeinu went out to see the suffering of Klal Yisrael, he didn't simply offer some charitable assistance to strangers. He saw them as his brothers. Their *tzaar* became his *tzaar*.

That is why the expression is so precise: **נושא בעול עם חבירו**. We are not looking at a burden owned by someone else. We are carrying it **together**.

And Chazal describe what Moshe did. In *Shemos Rabbah* (1:27), they say that he would place his shoulder under the loads and assist each person. There was a real, physical action. But the action expressed something deeper: Moshe's identification with the suffering of another Yid.

Now let me show you another *pasuk* in this same parashah that brings out the very same idea.

## "Vehinei Na'ar Bocheh" — Whose Cry Was It?

When Pharaoh's daughter opened the basket and saw Moshe Rabbeinu, the Torah says:

**"ותפתח ותראהו את הילד והנה נער בכה ותחמל עליו ותאמר מילדי העברים זה"** (Shemos 2:6).

She saw the child, and behold, a *na'ar* was crying. She had compassion upon him and said: "This is one of the Hebrew children."

There are several questions here. Why does the Torah call him a **na'ar**, a youth, when he was only a baby? Rashi says **"קולו כנער"**—his voice sounded like that of a youth. The *Rishonim* discuss that explanation and its implications.

And another *ha'arah*: the pasuk says **"מילדי העברים"**—from among the children of the Hebrews. Why emphasize that he was one of the Jewish children? What did she hear that told her something about him?

I saw a beautiful *vort* connecting these words with what we have been saying about Moshe Rabbeinu. It wasn't an ordinary private cry. Moshe Rabbeinu would grow to identify himself so completely with Klal Yisrael that his voice would express the sorrow of an entire people. This *vort* hears an allusion to that future in the words **"והנה נער בכה"**. We must distinguish the speaker's homiletic explanation from the literal interpretation of the pasuk, but the *mussar* is extraordinary.

There is a *maaseh* brought about the Jews of Prague under a ruler identified in the account with **Maria Theresa**. The Jews were suffering, and an elderly, respected Jew named Reb Zalman came to plead on their behalf. He had a very deep, powerful voice. When he began to speak passionately, his voice startled the ruler.

The story's details need historical checking. But the point of the *vort* is what the man reportedly answered: **"It isn't only I who am speaking. The voices of all the Jews under your rule are speaking through my throat."**

Hear that, *rabosai*. His voice was not just his voice. He felt the suffering of Klal Yisrael as his own. That is the kind of *mahalach* being drawn from Moshe's cry: **not my sorrow alone, but the sorrow of my brothers**.

And there is yet another astonishing explanation of the words **"והנה נער בכה"**, this one in the *Baal HaTurim*. Let's see how it fits.

## The Baal HaTurim: Was It Aharon Who Was Crying?

Listen to what the **Baal HaTurim** says on **"והנה נער בכה"** (Shemos 2:6):

**"זה אהרן שהניחתו אצל התיבה. נער בכה בגימטריא זה אהרן הכהן."**

The Baal HaTurim says that the *na'ar* who was crying was **Aharon**, who had been left near the basket; he also gives a *gematria* connecting the words **"נער בכה"** to **"זה אהרן הכהן."**

What a beautiful *vort*! Here we were talking about Moshe Rabbeinu identifying with the suffering of all Klal Yisrael. And the Baal HaTurim brings Aharon into the picture, crying out of concern for his brother. It isn't only Moshe's pain. His brother feels it too.

Now we see the *shorashim* of both Moshe and Aharon: a person must know how to feel someone else's *tzaar*. **Nosei be'ol im chaveiro** is not a nice extra *middah*. It is part of the foundation of their leadership.

Go back to the phrase **"מילדי העברים זה"**. In the *mussar* explanation we have been discussing, the cry belongs not merely to one child but expresses a bond with the other children of Klal Yisrael. That is why this whole *maaseh* about the voice of the Jew pleading for the people of Prague moved me so much. His claim was that he was not speaking only for himself: **all those other people were speaking through him**.

## Why Rashi Says Both Eyes and Heart

Now we can learn the *lashon* of Rashi much more deeply. Rashi didn't merely say that Moshe felt bad for the Jews. He said:

**"נתן עיניו ולבו להיות מיצר עליהם."**

Why **עיניו ולבו**—his eyes and his heart? Why both?

I want to suggest that there are two separate parts to **nosei be'ol im chaveiro**.

The first is **נתן עיניו**. A person has to **notice** what is happening to another Yid. You have to look. If you are always so caught up in your own life that you never see anyone else's trouble, you will never even begin to help him.

And then there is **נתן לבו**. It is not enough to see a fact and go on walking. You must allow the suffering to enter your heart. You must care. Moshe Rabbeinu did both. He opened his eyes to the suffering and opened his heart to it.

But there is still a further question. If he really cared, **what did he do about it?** Feeling sorry is good, but can we stop there? I want to show you what Chazal say next.

## Seeing, Feeling, and Acting

Rashi says **"נתן עיניו ולבו להיות מיצר עליהם."** Eyes and heart. There are people who look but don't feel. There are people who feel sympathy in the abstract, but never really look closely enough to see whether they can help. Moshe Rabbeinu teaches us that the two have to come together.

How many times do we walk past a notice about a person who is *choleh*? We say, "Nebach, that's terrible." We feel bad for a moment. I am not belittling that feeling. Compassion itself is a beautiful thing. But if we stop there, perhaps we have only begun the *avodah*.

We should ask: **Can I do something for this person?** Can I visit, help, give, arrange something, or even just speak to him in a way that gives him *chizuk*?

The Midrash describes Moshe Rabbeinu not only seeing the suffering but **crying** over it:

**"שהיה רואה בסבלותם ובוכה ואומר חבל לי עליכם מי יתן מותי עליכם."** (Shemos Rabbah 1:27)

He looked at their burdens and wept, saying, "Woe to me for your suffering; would that my own death could be in your place." Then the Midrash continues that he **placed his own shoulder beneath the burdens and helped each one**.

Notice the sequence. First he looked. Then he cried. And then he helped.

Why does Chazal tell us about the tears? If he went and picked up the loads, isn't that enough?

Maybe the tears themselves were part of what Klal Yisrael needed. When a person sees another's pain, he can sometimes give the sufferer something deeply meaningful by showing, sincerely, **"I am with you. Your pain matters to me."**

When you give *tzedakah*, it isn't always the amount of money that makes the difference. It is also the way you give. The smile, the words of encouragement, the sense that the other person is respected—those are part of the *chesed*. When a person is suffering, even knowing that another Yid genuinely shares his pain can help.

So I want to learn two *maasim* that bring out this *yesod*: one about the Alter of Kelm, and another about the Chofetz Chaim.

## The Alter of Kelm and the Road Beneath His Feet

I saw a story, attributed in the literature of the *Baalei Mussar* to the Alter of Kelm, about a walk he took along a road in town.

As he walked, he began to sigh. Someone asked him why. What was there to sigh about? The Alter answered by drawing attention to the laborers who had built the road. Do you have any idea how much sweat, toil, and suffering went into laying this road? How much strength these people gave so that others could walk comfortably?

People were passing along the street without thinking twice. He couldn't walk there without imagining the work and the hardship that had gone into it.

Now tell me, what did his sigh do for those laborers? It didn't repair the road or put money in anyone's pocket. But that is exactly the *nekudah*. **He couldn't pass through the world without feeling the burdens other people had carried**. Their exertion was not invisible to him.

That is **nosei be'ol im chaveiro**. It begins in a person's heart and changes the way he sees the world. But it should also lead him to act when there is something he can do.

Let me tell you another *maaseh*.

## The Chofetz Chaim and the Soldiers in the Trenches

I saw an account associated with the **Chofetz Chaim** during the First World War. It is related that while Jewish soldiers were suffering terribly in the trenches, the Chofetz Chaim would not sleep comfortably in a bed. How could he lie peacefully while his Jewish brothers were enduring such pain?

Now I ask you, *rabosai*: did a soldier in a trench have less suffering because the Chofetz Chaim chose not to sleep in a bed? Did that action feed him or make him warmer? No.

But it teaches us a tremendous *yesod*. **Nosei be'ol im chaveiro is not only about a calculation of practical benefit. It is about sharing the burden itself.** The pain of another person is not something that I can always solve. But that doesn't mean I can shut my eyes and say it has nothing to do with me.

I am not telling everybody to make decisions based on this story without understanding his own obligations. I am asking you to see what kind of *lev*, what kind of heart, a great *tzaddik* had.

And of course, when you **can** do something, you must not be satisfied merely with an emotional response. Moshe Rabbeinu cried, and then he put his shoulder under the load. We need both.

## My Alter Zeide and the Jewish Refugees

I want to tell you another family *maaseh*, something I heard about my *alter zeide* after he came to America.

Coming from Europe, finding a position and a livelihood was tremendously difficult. My *alter zeide* was fortunate enough to receive a very respectable position in a Torah institution in the Bronx. For someone newly arrived, having a job, a place to live, and supper at night was an enormous blessing.

But the story is that he could not remain comfortable while other Yidden were languishing in the **displaced-persons camps** after the war. There was correspondence about this with **Reb Chaim Shmuelevitz**, who was associated with the Mir during its wartime exile. My *alter zeide* explained that he was considering leaving his secure position in order to devote himself to those suffering Jews.

I have seen or heard reference to the letter, though I don't have it in front of me right now. I would want the exact wording before printing a documentary quotation. But the family story expresses the same *middah*: **How can I rest when my brothers are suffering?**

Now come back to Moshe Rabbeinu in the palace. There is an apparent *kashya*. Couldn't Moshe have reasoned that it would be better to stay inside Pharaoh's palace, close to the king, and perhaps influence matters from there? Couldn't he help many more people if he remained in that powerful position?

It is a serious *sevara*. But the *Baalei Mussar* teach that in that moment, Moshe's greatness lay in his refusal to remain detached. He could not be comfortable while his brothers suffered.

That was the beginning of his leadership. And it is the *avodah* of every Yid to learn how to look beyond his own comforts and worries.

## Vayeitzei: Moshe Went Out of Himself

I want to return once more to the pasuk **"ויגדל משה ויצא אל אחיו."**

We said there are many *cheshbonos* a person can make. Sometimes a person thinks: "I could help more later if I remain where I am now." Or: "I have to control my emotions and think about the greater good." Those calculations can have their proper place. We are not saying to act recklessly. But there is a danger that the calculations become a way of **not feeling** someone else's suffering.

Moshe Rabbeinu was not prepared to close his eyes. He went out. The Torah tells us **"ויגדל משה"**—Moshe grew. One approach in the *Baalei Mussar*, associated here with a Chasam Sofer teaching, reads that greatness in the next words: **"ויצא אל אחיו וירא בסבלתם."** He grew great by stepping outside the palace and making his brothers' burden his own.

Now here's another *ha'arah*. The Torah uses the word **ויצא** twice. First, **"ויצא אל אחיו"** (Shemos 2:11). Then, **"ויצא ביום השני"** (2:13). Why tell us that Moshe went out again?

*Shemos Rabbah* (1:27) points out the two departures: **"שתי יציאות יצא אותו צדיק."** That *lashon* calls for understanding. There is something special about the repeated act of going out.

I heard an explanation associated with the **Alter of Slabodka**. *Vayeitzei* does not mean only that Moshe walked through the doors of the palace. It means that he **went out of himself**—out of the narrow world of his own concerns, his own comfort, and his own perspective.

A person can physically leave his house and still never leave himself. Everywhere he goes, he sees everything only in terms of **me**. What does this mean for me? What does this do to my business? How is it going to affect my day?

Moshe Rabbeinu went out **אל אחיו**. He went out *toward his brothers*. He had learned to see another person.

## Even Our Tefillos Can Become Self-Centered

Let me give you an example. A person is worried about *parnassah*. He goes to *daven Shemoneh Esrei*. And what does he see in almost every *brachah*? His *parnassah*!

He says a *brachah* about *daas*, and thinks, "Ribbono Shel Olam, give me the intelligence to make the right business deals." He says *Refa'einu*, and thinks, "I need to be healthy so I can work." He looks at every word through his personal problem.

Of course, a person may and should *daven* for his needs. But think about it: **so much of Shemoneh Esrei speaks about the needs of Klal Yisrael**. Yet the person may be so wrapped up in his own worries that he barely notices the rest.

That is the danger. We look at the whole world through our own eyes, and we don't even realize how much we are doing it.

*Vayeitzei el echav* teaches us to go out of that narrow perspective. To recognize that the life of another person is real, his worry is real, and his pain deserves a place in our heart.

I want to conclude with one beautiful *vort* that brings out this idea about the way a person's inner world shapes what he sees.

## What a Person Sees Depends on His Own Heart

My uncle once said a *moredige vort* about a well-known expression connected with the month of **Elul** and the sense of awe and trembling before the *Yamim Nora'im*. The imagery is that even the fish in the water tremble.

You could jokingly ask: should we conduct a scientific experiment? Should the students go to the water and see what the fish are doing? Are the fish actually trembling in the way the expression seems to suggest?

But my uncle explained that the point is not necessarily a physical statement about the fish. **It is about the person who is looking at them.** A Yid who is filled with the *eimah* and *yirah* of Elul sees the world through that feeling. Everywhere he looks, he sees the trembling and seriousness of the season. The fish become part of the world he is experiencing.

He told me he once repeated the *vort* to a travel agent. The fellow said, "That's a good *vort*—you'll get a lot of mileage out of it!" A good line, but the *yesod* is profound.

**A person sees the world through the eyes of his own inner life.**

If he is completely occupied with his own problems, every conversation, every *tefillah*, and every person becomes part of his personal story. But if he has developed the *middah* of **nosei be'ol im chaveiro**, he learns to see the other person's pain as something that truly matters.

Now we can understand **"ויצא אל אחיו וירא בסבלתם"**. Moshe went out of himself. He saw his brothers. And because he saw them, he cared; because he cared, he cried; and because he cried with them, he was moved to help.

That is the foundation of being a Yid.

You cannot always solve another person's problem. Sometimes you can act, and then you should act. Sometimes you can offer a smile, encouragement, or the comfort of sincere companionship. And sometimes you can do little beyond feeling his pain and *davening* for him. But you must not be indifferent.

I began by asking: where does the Torah show us the greatness of Moshe Rabbeinu? The answer is right there in the words **"ויצא אל אחיו וירא בסבלתם."** He did not remain within the walls of his own life. He went out to his brothers.

And that is the *yesod* of **נושא בעול עם חבירו**—the foundation of a Yid, and in the teachings of the *Baalei Mussar*, a *shoresh* of the *Geulah*.