“The Week That Changed How I See Money—Forever”

In the Torah portion of Vayishlach, there's a verse that says, "And Jacob was left alone." One of the most famous Torah commentators, Rashi, explains that Jacob had forgotten a few small jars and went back to get them. The Talmud, an important book of Jewish teachings, adds something surprising: this teaches us that for righteous people—even their small belongings are very important to them, sometimes even more than their own comfort or safety.

In his book Yechi Reuven, Rabbi Reuven Karlinstein shares a beautiful explanation of this idea. He asks: “Can it be that to Yaakov Avinu (our forefather Jacob), money was more important than his life? Are we saying that he was, G-d forbid, a miser, the kind of person who travels across town just to save a half-shekel on tomatoes?!” Rabbi Karlinstein points out that this Talmudic statement seems to apply not only to Jacob, but to all righteous people. How could this be?

To bring the question into sharper focus, Rabbi Karlinstein shares a moving story.

“A reliable Jew once told me about his friend in Tel Aviv—a religious Jew who observes mitzvot (Torah commandments), puts on tefillin (phylacteries), keeps Shabbat, and has a beautiful practice. He has a brother in Jerusalem who is a serious Torah scholar with a large family. And this brother from Tel Aviv, who is financially comfortable, sends him a generous sum of money every month to support his family.

“My friend was amazed by this and always wondered what inspired such consistent giving. One day he finally asked: ‘How did you come to do this every month? Is it just because you have money? That’s not enough of an explanation. Plenty of wealthy people are still stingy—like the saying, “One who has a hundred wants two hundred.” What’s your secret?’

“The Tel Aviv man answered, ‘Let me tell you a story.’”

“When I was a young yeshiva student, I learned in the Chevron Yeshiva in Jerusalem. The Rosh Yeshiva (head of the yeshiva), Rabbi Yechezkel Sarna, had a beautiful custom. Each week, he would send a group of students to Bnei Brak to spend a week with the late Chazon Ish, the great Torah scholar of the generation. We’d leave Sunday and return Friday. While there, the students would sit with the Chazon Ish, ask him Torah questions, and observe how he lived.

“Usually, the Rosh Yeshiva chose the top students for this trip—those who could truly absorb the deep Torah insights. I was not one of those gifted students. I was more of a ‘paper’ boy, one who liked the idea of a trip. So when Rabbi Sarna approached me and asked if I wanted to go, I jumped at the chance. Food and a place to sleep? Great! So I went.”

He continued, “We arrived in Bnei Brak on Sunday. The others dove right into Torah discussions with the Chazon Ish. They asked, he answered. I stood on the side, nodding, pretending to follow. In truth, I was lost. I wandered a bit, didn’t connect to the learning. The week passed and we returned to yeshiva.

“But even though I didn’t come away with deep Torah insights like the others, I took something life-changing with me.

“I saw something in the Chazon Ish that I’ll never forget. In his eyes, money meant nothing. People came and went all day—some rich, some poor. A wealthy person would leave a large sum of money on the table, and five minutes later, it was gone. Not a single coin left. He gave it away without a second thought.

“I was deeply moved. I had never seen someone so unaffected by money. And that impression entered my soul. It changed me. I didn’t leave with Torah knowledge, but I gained something just as important: a deep sense that money is not something to cling to. It's meant to be shared. That’s what I saw in this giant of Torah. Giving didn’t hurt him—it gave him joy.”

He paused, then concluded: “I didn’t become a Torah scholar. But Hashem has blessed me with wealth. So if my own brother—flesh and blood—is a Torah scholar raising a large family, how could I not support him? I send him a generous sum every month, and it’s not hard for me at all.”

Rabbi Karlinstein returns to his question: “But if this is how righteous people relate to money—that it means nothing to them—then how can the Talmud say that their possessions are more precious to them than even their own bodies?”

The answer, he explains, lies in a deeper perspective.

Everything I Have – A Gift from Hashem!

Rabbi Karlinstein brings a teaching he saw quoted from the holy Ari (a great Kabbalist) and others. He says: “When you ask someone how they got their hat, they might say, ‘I bought it at a store.’ Or if they have a book, they say, ‘Someone gave it to me.’ But a righteous person answers differently: ‘Hashem gave it to me.’ Every single thing they own—they feel it’s a direct gift from G-d.

“How did I get this pen? Hashem gave it to me. Yes, I worked, earned money, went to the store and bought it—but all of that is just the chain of events. In truth, Hashem gave it to me.”

When a righteous person eats, he feels that Hashem is the one nourishing him. The Chovot HaLevavot (a classic work on Jewish ethics, “Duties of the Heart”) writes that a true servant of Hashem only eats what He provides. The tzaddik (righteous person) feels, at every moment, that Hashem is the one sustaining him.

So when Yaakov had those small jugs—why did he go back for them? Because to him, they were gifts from Hashem. And that makes them too precious to abandon.

Rabbi Karlinstein shares a personal memory: “When I was a child in Satmar, the Rebbe once gave me a coin. What joy! For years I proudly showed it to everyone. ‘Look! The Rebbe gave me this coin!’ How much more so when we receive something from Hashem—it’s infinitely more precious!”

It’s not about loving money. It’s about cherishing what Hashem gave us. That’s why the possessions of the righteous are so dear to them—because they come from Him.

And what about the Talmud’s reason, that the righteous don’t steal, so they value what they do have? Rabbi Karlinstein says it’s actually the same idea. When someone steals, it’s not a gift from Hashem—it’s something he grabbed for himself. But the righteous only take what Hashem gives. And that makes every item they own, no matter how small, a holy gift.

From Yechi Reuven.