We sometimes see people donating large amounts of money to a shul, yeshiva, or tzedakah organization. While their donations are certainly appreciated, we may wonder whether their intentions are completely l’shem Shamayim. Perhaps they want their names displayed on a plaque, or they enjoy receiving honor and recognition. Does a mitzvah performed with such intentions still have value? We can learn an important lesson about this from the story of Avraham Avinu and his brother Haran.
The Torah tells us (Bereishis 11:28), “Vayamas Haran al pnei Terach aviv b’eretz moladto b’Ur Kasdim” - Haran died during the lifetime of his father Terach, in Ur Kasdim. Rashi brings a Midrash explaining how Haran died. When Avraham Avinu destroyed his father Terach’s idols, Terach reported him to Nimrod. As punishment, Nimrod ordered Avraham to be thrown into a fiery furnace. Meanwhile, Avraham’s brother Haran stood watching, unsure which side to take. He decided that if Avraham survived, he would join Avraham. But if Avraham was killed, he would remain loyal to Nimrod.
When Avraham emerged from the furnace unharmed, the people turned to Haran and asked, "Whose side are you on?" Haran answered, "I am on Avraham’s side!" He, too, was thrown into the furnace. However, unlike Avraham, Haran was not saved. He died in the flames. The difference between the two brothers seems clear. Avraham was completely dedicated to Hashem and was prepared to give up his life for His sake. Haran, on the other hand, only declared his belief after seeing Avraham survive. His intentions were not entirely l’shem Shamayim.
Did Haran deserve no reward at all? True, his intentions were not as pure as Avraham’s. Nevertheless, Haran declared his belief in Hashem and gave up his life rather than deny Him. Surely such an act deserved some reward! The answer is that Haran did receive a reward, although it may not have been immediately obvious. His daughter Sarah became Sarah Imeinu. His son Lot became the ancestor of Rus and Naamah. Although Haran’s intentions were not completely pure, Hashem did not overlook his sacrifice.
From here we learn that even a mitzvah performed without perfect intentions can have tremendous value. Chazal teach us, “L’olam ya’asok adam b’Torah u’v’mitzvos afilu shelo lishmah, shemitoch shelo lishmah ba lishmah.” A person should always involve himself in Torah and mitzvos, even when his intentions are not completely pure, because eventually performing mitzvos shelo lishmah can lead him to perform them lishmah. This applies to the person who gives tzedakah because he wants recognition, or someone who learns because he wants others to consider him a good learner. Certainly, the goal is to perform mitzvos purely for Hashem’s sake, but even when a person’s intentions are not perfect, the mitzvah still has value. Rather than dismissing such a mitzvah, we should recognize its importance and encourage the person to continue growing.
But just how valuable is a mitzvah performed without proper enthusiasm or feeling? A story about the Divrei Shmuel of Slonim helps us understand this. The sefer Doresh Tov relates that before the Divrei Shmuel became the Slonimer Rebbe, he served as a Rosh Yeshiva. Among the bochurim in his yeshiva was one young man who began drifting away from Yiddishkeit. Slowly, he lost interest in learning, davening, and keeping mitzvos. Eventually, he abandoned the Torah way of life entirely. Years passed, and by this time, the Divrei Shmuel had become the Slonimer Rebbe. One day, he was traveling on a train together with a group of his chassidim. A wealthy-looking man entered their train compartment, dressed in expensive clothing and carrying himself with an air of importance. The man was none other than the former yeshiva bochur who had left Yiddishkeit.
At first, he felt embarrassed. Here he was, standing before his former Rosh Yeshiva without even wearing a yarmulke! But his embarrassment lasted only a moment, and he walked toward the Rebbe. "Rebbe, do you remember me?" he asked. "Of course!" the Rebbe answered. "How are you? What are you doing these days?" The man smiled. "Rebbe, since leaving the yeshiva, I have become a very successful businessman. Today, I am worth one hundred thousand rubles!" The Rebbe appeared surprised. "One hundred thousand rubles?! Really? How did you manage that?" The man explained that he had made several successful business deals. The Rebbe continued expressing his amazement at the man’s wealth.
The businessman was pleased. He assumed that the Rebbe was showing such interest because he hoped to receive a large donation for the yeshiva. Finally, the man announced, "Rebbe, I would be happy to make a generous donation to your yeshiva!" But the Rebbe’s response caught him by surprise. "A donation?" the Rebbe replied. "Absolutely not! I cannot accept a donation from someone who denies the foundations of our emunah and publicly desecrates Shabbos!" The man stood there in shock. Seeing his disappointment, the Rebbe continued. "I do not want your money. However, there is something far more valuable that you have given me today. You have taught me a lesson that I will never forget." The businessman looked at the Rebbe in confusion. "A lesson? Rebbe, what lesson could I possibly have taught you?"
The Rebbe began to explain. "Do you remember when you were a bochur in my yeshiva? You had very little interest in learning or davening. You would fall asleep during davening, and you could barely bring yourself to open a Gemara. Your mitzvos were performed without enthusiasm, your davening lacked concentration, and your learning was done without much interest. At the time, I wondered what value those mitzvos could possibly have. But today, you have taught me something important! Look at what happened to you. The Yetzer Hara wanted so badly to pull you away from Torah and mitzvos that he was willing to pay you one hundred thousand rubles! Even though your mitzvos were performed without enthusiasm, the Yetzer Hara considered them so valuable that he was prepared to pay an enormous price to take them away from you."
The Rebbe continued, "If the Yetzer Hara was willing to give you one hundred thousand rubles for mitzvos performed without proper feeling, can you imagine how much a mitzvah is worth when a Yid performs it with excitement and proper kavanah? Can you imagine the value of a sincere tefillah? And can you imagine the reward waiting for someone who puts real effort into learning Torah?"
Sometimes a person feels that his davening lacks proper kavanah or that he is learning without enough enthusiasm. He might think that such mitzvos are hardly worth anything. But the Yetzer Hara knows better. He understands the value of every word of Torah, every tefillah, and every mitzvah. That is precisely why he works so hard to stop us from doing them. We should never underestimate the value of even a single mitzvah.