Near a craggy creek off of Enfield St., in the middle of the lane, sits an island—an island of community. It's an odd site, replete with a statue of St. George killing the dragon and a potted plant. A pumpkin usually appears around Halloween time, as does a fully decorated Christmas tree and display around the winter holidays. 

The thing is, this traffic island is on public property, in the middle of the street—not someplace one usually finds private accoutrements. Most of us spend our time, money, and efforts on our own property, with our own stuff. Yet these decorations sit in the void of a street median, without ownership or attribution.  Why? I do not know who does this, or what their motivation might be, but I have a theory: it’s about community. 

What if a small part of what you do everyday is anchored in that section of your soul which is also part of your community? We are all so busy protecting and promoting our own self interests. Nothing wrong with that. However, reserving just a small bit of community in ourselves seems like a small, healthy token of not only our own well-being, but that of our friends, neighbors, and indeed, our planet. 

I believe these street decorations are a person's attempt to give back, anonymously, to all who pass by, without a thought of getting anything in return. This is not transactional. It is an act of unconditional love because the one responsible for the displays cannot know who will enjoy them, benefit from them, or have any response whatsoever. 

I am not a collectivist, meaning I do not believe that one should always act for what is perceived as the "common good".  The problem with collectivism is that others, often nefarious parties, try to define the "common good" for the rest of us. And we are often expected to go along with that. I am an individualist. This means that I do look out for my own interests, and make my own determinations about what is good for our community as well as for myself.

However, this does not mean that I should NEVER do something just for the common good, for my community. I do not wish to live in such a soulless world as that. This is why it’s so important to take steps to make community part of yourself. If you were to incorporate a small (or large) gesture of community into each and every one of your days, what would that look like? Perhaps it’s calling a friend in need, maybe picking up a random aluminium can that you didn’t throw there but nevertheless needs picking up. Or maybe it’s doing fifteen minutes worth of research on all candidates before voting, or even placing nice flowers or a decoration on a public thoroughfare, just to bring a small bit of happiness to those passing by.

The statue of St. George killing the dragon is a metaphor for overcoming those things in our world which make us fearful. The illusion of separation between ourselves and our community may be a the source of fear. The truth is that community is a part of ourselves. Maybe not the major part, but a part nevertheless. Just because our little toe is a minor part of our foot does not mean it does not belong to us, as stubbing it will well attest.  Perhaps by reaching out to their community with a small, but radical act of beautiful kindness, the keepers of this island of civility are slaying some dragon of their own making. Or perhaps they are giving us a tool to slay our own dragons in the service of our togetherness.

The Andalusian sage and scholar, Maimonides, speaks to acts of selfless community in the form of giving, and in doing so provides a dragon slayer's sword. The Jewish ideals of Tzedakah were summarized and taught by Moses Maimonides (RaMBaM), a great teacher who lived in Spain and the Egypt. Maimonides believed that Tzedakah is like a ladder. It has eight rungs, from bottom to top. Each step you climb brings you closer to heaven. 

The Tzedakah ladder:

1. The person who gives reluctantly, and with regret. 

2. The person who gives graciously, but less than one should. 

3. The person who gives what one should, but only after being asked. 

4. The person who gives before being asked. 

5. The person who gives without knowing to whom he or she gives, although the recipient knows the identity of the donor. 

6. The person who gives without making his or her identity known. 

7. The person who gives without knowing to whom he or she gives. The recipient does not know from whom he or she receives. 

8. The person who helps another to become self-supporting by a gift or a loan or by finding employment for the recipient.

In this giving season, please consider giving as high up on Maimonides’ hierarchy as you can. 

Happy Holidays!