One’s eyes, without the concern of one’s heart, do not see the whole picture

“You should not see the ox of your brother or his sheep wandering about and you ignore them…” (Devarim 22:1)

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ow exactly does one avoid noticing an animal roaming in the middle of the street? Rav Meir Tzvi Bergman suggests that the person may actually see the ox, but since he has no interest in getting involved, he can walk by oblivious, and not even realize that he saw it.

This explanation is implicit in the pasuk as it says, “You don’t see, and you ignore them,” while in pasuk gimmel, the commandment says, “you shouldn’t be able to ignore it.” The first pasuk instructs us not to be oblivious, but the later pasuk commands us not to be capable of ignoring it. If one truly cares about his Jewish brother and his belongings, he’ll notice and take action. (Rabbi Shlomo Caplan, Mishulchan Shlomo)

I’m the lone female in a male-dominated home. I don’t know about all males, but those in my family bear the dominant ICFI gene (for those not genetically predisposed to this, the ICFI gene is responsible for the I Can’t Find It behavior in males), which leads to some challenging moments.

“Where’s the milk?” In the fridge where it always is.

“Where are my shoes?” Smack in the middle of the living room floor where I almost tripped on them.

“Where’s the salt?” Right in front of you; you’re staring at it.

So prevalent are the ICFI moments in our home, that I rarely blink an eye as I answer multiple find-it questions and guide owners to their lost items that are generally quite visible to the average eye. But ICFI carriers don’t have the average eye-brain connection. They use their mother.

Rav Bergman quotes a similar approach from his father-in-law, Rav Shach, about tzedakah. Chazal (Kesubos 68a) says: “Whoever hides his eyes from tzekadah…” This refers to one who fails to give tzedakah because he’s oblivious to the hardships of his brethren. The mitzvah of tzedakah demands that one be sensitive and on the lookout for the needs of his fellow Yid.

This was the middah of Avraham Avinu. “He lifted his eyes and he saw three people standing near him and he saw….” (Bereishis 18:2) The redundancy indicates that he saw them and then did a double take. He was concerned enough to notice their situation and invite them inside.

So too, with Moshe Rabbeinu. Despite growing up in Pharaoh’s palace, “He went out to his brethren and observed their burdens.” (Shemos 2:11) Rashi explains, “He applied his eyes and his heart to feel their pain.” One’s eyes, without the concern of one’s heart, do not see the whole picture.

I should admit that although I’m not an ICFI carrier, I’m probably a carrier of a recessive IDNT guilt gene, like most Jewish women.

I hadn’t seen my neighbor for a few weeks, then I heard she had mono and really wasn’t managing. I felt terrible. I Didn’t Notice That. How could I have missed that?

My ten-year-old was grumpy for a few days, but it took a phone call from the rebbi to realize a classmate had been picking on him during recess. How come I didn’t notice that?

I have eyes on my face, no? And a perceptive, intuitive, and empathetic nature. Yet how often am I guilty of not noticing those who need help around me?

Rav Moshe Leib of Sassov once heard a slightly inebriated farmer ask his friend, “Do you love me?” The other replied, “Of course.” The farmer responded, “Can you tell me what I need?” “How should I know what you need?” the friend asked incredulously. “If you don’t know what I need,” said the farmer, “how can you claim you love me?”

Our love and concern for our fellow Yid should force us not to be capable of not noticing and thus ignoring his needs.

We’re each a component of our (genetic?) makeup and personality, and everyone is guilty of various levels of ICFI and IDNT.

But it behooves us to notice when these tendencies blind us to factors that are essential to our existence.

We’ve entered Elul, and it’s been a really rough year.

“Where are You?” we cry to Hashem.

And He answers, “You’re staring right at me. I’m right there in front of you, where I always am.”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 910)