If you woke up this morning with more health than illness... you are more blessed than the million people who will not survive this week.
	If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation ....you are ahead of 500 million people in the world.
	If you can attend a church (or Synagogue) meeting without fear of harassment, arrest, torture, or death... you are more blessed than three billion people in the world.
	If you have food in the refrigerator, clothes on your back, a roof overhead and a place to sleep... you are richer than 75% of this world.
	If you have money in the bank, in your wallet, and spare change in a dish someplace ... you are among the top 8% of the world's wealthy.
	If you can read [a written version of] this… you are more blessed than over two billion people in the world who cannot read at all.

	If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like this:
	There would be 57 Asians, 21 Europeans, 14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south, 8 Africans
	52 would be female, 48 would be male
	70 would be non-white, 30 would be white
	70 would be non-Christian, 30 would be Christian
	89 would be heterosexual, 11 would be homosexual
	6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States
	80 would live in substandard housing
	70 would be unable to read
	50 would suffer from malnutrition
	1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth
	1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
	1 would own a computer

Do you think the Taliban and bin Laden don't know those figures? They not only know them, they feed off the people who live them. Many of the people those figures portray live in countries like Afghanistan, countries ripe for the picking by demagogues like bin Laden. Tamim Ansary was born in Afghanistan and has maintained close ties with his homeland during the 35 years he has lived in the US. Listen to his words:

	I speak as one who deeply hates the Taliban and Osama Bin Laden. My hatred comes from first hand experience. There is no doubt in my mind that these people were responsible for the atrocity in New York. I agree that something must be done about those monsters.
	But the Taliban and Bin Laden are not Afghanistan. They're not even the government of Afghanistan. The Taliban are a cult of ignorant psychotics who took over Afghanistan in 1997. Bin Laden is a political criminal with a plan. When you think Taliban, think Nazis. When you think Bin Laden, think Hitler. And when you think "the people of Afghanistan" think "the Jews in the concentration camps."
	It's not only that the Afghan people had nothing to do with this atrocity. They were the first victims of the perpetrators. They would exult if someone would come in there, take out the Taliban and clear out the rats nest of international thugs holed up in their country.
	… why don't the Afghans rise up and overthrow the Taliban? The answer is, they're starved, exhausted, hurt, incapacitated, suffering. A few years ago, the United Nations estimated that there are 500,000 disabled orphans in Afghanistan - a country with no economy, no food. There are millions of widows. And the Taliban has been burying these widows alive in mass graves. The soil is littered with land mines, the farms were all destroyed by the Soviets.

The poverty of these "weakest links" and the Muslim faith that bin Laden purports to uphold, but actually horribly perverts for his own ends, certainly doesn't excuse what they've done. Nothing does. Although I'm opposed to capital punishment, these terrorists are not prisoners locked in some cell. They are enemies who chose to make war against us, and I would be very happy if in that war every last one of them was killed.

But even that won't end this once and for all. Unless the conditions that breed this insanity are ameliorated, it is only a matter of time until a new crop of terrorists emerges. We have done nothing wrong by becoming wealthy and powerful, but if we don't use some of that wealth and that power to also benefit the world's weakest links while we benefit ourselves, we simply fan the fires of jealousy and hatred.

There's a beautiful line in the prayerbook that we recite before Kaddish at a house of mourning. It says: "All that we have is but lent to us, and the time comes when we must surrender it. We are all travelers on the same road… "

"We are all travelers on the same road…" What a truly magnificent thought! In terms of their worth as human beings, there is no difference between the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. Humanity is an absolute value that doesn't depend on status. We are all brothers and sisters. We all travel the same road from birth to death. How can we not ease the load of those, as human as we are, who suffer?

I believe that it was this idea or its equivalent that motivated Benjamin Franklin to engage in this wonderful bit of tzedakah to help his fellow-travelers. He left behind a letter that reads:

	I send you herewith a bill for ten [gold] louis dors. I do not pretend to give such a sum; I only lend it to you.
	When you shall return to your country with a good character, you can not fail of getting into some business, that will in time enable you to pay all your debts.
	In that case, when you meet with another honest man in similar distress, you must pay me by lending this sum to him; enjoining him to discharge the debt by a like operation, when he shall be able, and shall meet with such another opportunity.
	I hope it may thus go through many hands, before it meets with a knave that will stop its progress.
	This is a trick of mine for doing a great deal of good with a little money. I am not rich enough to afford much in good works, and so am obliged to be cunning and make the most of a little.

All that we have is been lent to us. We will give it all up. We go empty-handed into the grave. But think of all the good we can do while we're here! Let us be a little cunning too, and make the most even out of a little tzedakah. Think of all the "loans" we can make to help fight the diseases that take so many lives, loans to enable kids to go to college who might otherwise not be able to, loans to put food on the tables of starving families, to help give them tables to put the food on in the first place, and a roof over their heads and the heads of their children. Even in the pain of our loss we can still do so much good. The Gablers, members of our community who lost their son Fred in the World Trade Center attack, have established a fund in his memory to help send needy children to summer camp.

Far too often we tend to view the weakest links as some lesser, contaminated species, until someone like Oseola McCarty jolts us out of our complacent prejudices:

	Oseola McCarty [is] a shy, stooped, Mississippi washerwoman who lived alone since 1967. She saved, scrimped, and lived her entire life modestly. Then in 1995, at age 87, Oseola McCarty gave away her lifetime savings of $150,000 which she had amassed a few dollars at a time by doing other people's wash, to finance scholarships for young Black women at the University of Southern Mississippi.
	Oseola McCarty gave her gift because she believed that her life was coming to an end and therefore would not have any further use for her wealth. She wanted young Black women to have the chance that she never had. She did not ask anything in return. She did not want anything named for her and she did not wish or expect to be honored in any way. However… this gift unleashed a chain of events that were as touching as they were unexpected.
	Oseola's generosity touched so many people that suddenly she was propelled from her isolation and loneliness into a circle of well wishers, admirers, and celebrities who brought her to distant cities. Before her gift, she had been out of Mississippi only once, had never been in a skyscraper and had never had room service. This simple woman who had never flown before now crisscrossed the country in airplanes. She accepted humanitarian awards and met famous people. She was photographed with President Clinton. Roberta Flack sang "Amazing Grace" to her, and Whoopi Goldberg knelt at her feet. She was given so many awards that she could not keep track of them and her little house could not hold them, so they are displayed in her own section at the University of Southern Mississippi library. She appeared on Good Morning America and was named one of Barbara Walter's "10 Most Interesting People of 1995."
	She appeared on BBC, MTV, and Argentinean TV. She was featured in Ebony, People Magazine, Jet, Glamour, and Guidepost. Harvard granted her a Doctor of Humane Letters. The National Urban League made her a "Community Hero." The National Institute of Social Sciences gave her a gold medal; she won the Wallenberg Humanitarian Award, and carried the Olympic Torch.
	She has hobnobbed with the country's elite who have made her into some kind of folk hero. To her original gift of $150,000, other well wishers have added an additional $200,000, and gifts continue to stream in. Each year, six students who could not afford the annual, $2,400 tuition now attend the university on scholarship made possible by Oseola's gift and the other gifts she inspired. [Rabbi Stephen Pearce, The American Rabbi, Spring/Summer 2001, pp. 254-255.]

How many people have we inspired? To what have we lent our wisdom, our talent, and yes, our money? What will we leave behind to help not only our own, already well-off families, but some of the weaker links of our world as well? No one is suggesting that we give everything away… now. But there will come a time when we will surrender it all. Now, while it is still within our control, we should lend some of what we have to make the world a better place. Some, not all. The traditional figure in our tradition is ten per cent, and not more. Living well is not a sin. The sin lies in not using part of what we have to help others.

The weakest links need more than our money. They also need our recognition and our respect. They are not sub-human. They are people just like us:

	There is a story told about the devastating famine which had brought great misery in Russia: A beggar had become weak and emaciated and almost starved to death. He approached the novelist Leo Tolstoy and asked him for assistance.
	Tolstoy searched his pockets for money, but discovered that he didn't even have as much as a single coin. However, he took the beggar's worn hand between his own and said "Don't be angry with me, my brother. I have nothing with me."
	The thin, lined face of the beggar lighted up, as if from some inner light. The beggar whispered in reply: "But, sir, you called me 'brother.' That was the greatest gift that you could give me." [Rabbi Larry Goldmark, The American Rabbi, Spring/Summer 2001, pg. 283.]

Remember the joke about the Jewish matron out for an afternoon stroll who was approached by a beggar on the street? "Please help me," he barely whispered. "I haven't eaten in three days." The lady patted his arm and, looking at him with great sympathy, replied: "Force yourself."

Unfortunately, she got it backwards. It's we who have to force ourselves. We have to force ourselves to overcome the understandable human desire to hang onto everything that is ours. We have to force ourselves to overcome our fear of the stranger, our prejudices against people who don't look like us or talk like us. We have to force ourselves to give up our anxiety that others may not dig into their pockets and we will be the only one.

Why should we? Why do we have to? It should be obvious:

	An aged Jewish grandmother, who never attended school, once gave her granddaughter a slip of paper with all the advice she would ever need to have in order to lead a good life:
	Wash what is dirty.
	Water what is dry.
	Heal what is wounded.
	Warm what is cold.
	Guide what goes off the road.
	And love people who are the least loveable, because they need it the most. [Ibid., pg. 284]

So, lend a hand in helping ease the load of our fellow-travelers. Force yourselves to see the weakest links as our brothers and sisters.

Lastly, understand that from our perspective as Jews, this is not optional. It is required. It is required because we have been on the "needing" side more often than most, and it is required because of those who need it the most.

As we stand here on this Yom Ha-Din, this Day of Judgment, let us each ask ourselves: Are we worthy of being God's partners?

	A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on the roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, "My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?"
	"I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes," was the boy's reply.
	The lady took him by the hand and went into the store and asked he clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel.
	He quickly brought them to her. She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with a towel. By this time the clerk had returned with the socks.
	Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes. She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, "No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?"
	As she turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand and looking up in her face, with tears in his eyes, answered the question with these words:
	"Are you God's wife?" [The American Rabbi, Fall, 2000, pg. 18.]