A man earned sixty dinars. He divided them into three equal portions: twenty for food, twenty for his house, and twenty he saved for his children. It was a sensible arrangement — frugal, responsible, the kind of budget any practical person would approve.
Rabbi Meir heard about this man and told a different story. "I knew a calligrapher — a scribe who copied sacred texts — who earned six selaim each week. He divided his earnings into three parts as well: two for food, two for his house, and two he gave away to the poor." The students did the math. "But Rabbi, that leaves nothing for his children!"
Rabbi Meir nodded. "That is exactly the point. When they asked the scribe why he saved nothing for his children, he replied: 'If my children are good, God will provide for them. If they are bad, why should I leave money to the enemies of God?'"
The contrast between the two men was stark. The first man saved for his children out of fear — fear that the future would be harsh, that his children would struggle, that God might not provide. The scribe gave everything away out of faith — faith that righteous children would never lack, and that giving wealth to wicked children would only fund their wickedness.
The sages did not rule that one approach was correct and the other wrong. Both men acted with good intentions. But Rabbi Meir admired the scribe because his generosity revealed a deeper trust in God's justice. The man who saves for his children trusts himself. The man who gives to the poor trusts God. And the sages always preferred the one who trusts God.