Benjamin the Righteous served as the guardian of the community charity fund. Every donation that came in, every disbursement that went out, passed through his honest hands. The people trusted him completely.
One day, a widow came to him in tears. She had seven children and nothing to feed them. "Please," she begged, "give me something from the fund. My children are starving."
Benjamin checked the accounts and shook his head. "The fund is empty," he told her. "There is nothing to give." The widow's face crumbled. She turned to leave, her seven children trailing behind her like a line of ducklings.
Benjamin could not bear it. He reached into his own purse and gave her money from his personal savings. He continued to support her and her seven children out of his own pocket, week after week, until the charity fund was replenished.
Some time later, Benjamin fell gravely ill. The physicians said he would not survive. The angels in heaven argued his case before God. "This man sustained a widow and seven children from his own wealth," the defending angel declared. "Shall he die young?"
The Talmud in Baba Batra (11a) records that twenty-two years were added to Benjamin's life as a reward for his generosity. Not one year for each act of kindness, but twenty-two years—a measure of time that corresponded, the sages noted, to the number of letters in the Hebrew alphabet, as if God were writing a new chapter of life for a man who had written hope into the lives of others.
The story became a cornerstone teaching about charity. Giving from a communal fund is noble. Giving from your own pocket when the fund is empty is something far greater.