The terrible tragedy in Buffalo today has me thinking:
As one of the Chochmai Umos Ha'Olam explains below, man is wrapped up in his own little world - to the point where even the death of millions does not trouble him, while a small wound to his own body causes him great consternation. But why is this so?
When a human being is born, he is completely selfish. As a child, his feelings for others - his mommy, for instance - all relate to himself. He loves his mother because she is always there for him, cleaning him, feeding him, etc. As we get older, we hopefully learn to feel for others outside of ourselves. We do this by expanding our notion of self; the other people playing roles in our lives become, to one degree or another, a part of our personal world. If something tragic, God forbid, should happen to a loved one, man experiences it as a personal loss - he has lost a part of himself.
For most of us, this expansion of self includes people whom we personally know and have a relationship with. This is why we can respond to the death of thousands of people in other parts of the world with callousness. But some reach a higher level, and are able to feel personal pain over the loss of every Jew, and every human being. How, I'm not sure. But spending as much time as possible around Rebbe seems like a good way to learn.
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Adam Smith
The Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part III, chap. 1, par. 46
Let us suppose that the great empire of China, with all its myriads of inhabitants, was suddenly swallowed up by an earthquake, and let us consider how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no sort of connection with that part of the world, would be affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful calamity. He would, I imagine, first of all, express very strongly his sorrow for the misfortune of that unhappy people, he would make many melancholy reflections upon the precariousness of human life, and the vanity of all the labors of man, which could thus be annihilated in a moment. He would too, perhaps, if he was a man of speculation, enter into many reasonings concerning the effects which this disaster might produce upon the commerce of Europe, and the trade and business of the world in general. And when all this fine philosophy was over, when all these humane sentiments had been once fairly expressed, he would pursue his business or his pleasure, take his repose or his diversion, with the same ease and tranquillity, as if no such accident had happened. The most frivolous disaster which could befall himself would occasion a more real disturbance. If he was to lose his little finger to-morrow, he would not sleep to-night; but, provided he never saw them, he will snore with the most profound security over the ruin of a hundred millions of his brethren.
