And guess what? It offers some pretty profound, and surprisingly practical, advice.
Our jumping-off point is the book of Ecclesiastes (Kohelet) and its rather cryptic verse: "In the morning sow your seed, and in the evening do not rest your hand" (Ecclesiastes 11:6). What does it mean? Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dives deep into this verse in section 61. And what emerges is a beautiful mosaic of perspectives on persistence, generosity, and the enduring power of our actions.
Rabbi Eliezer, for example, takes that verse literally. He says, hey, if you planted in the early season, plant again in the late season! Why? Because you simply don't know "which will succeed," as Ecclesiastes says. Maybe the early crop will flourish, maybe the late one, or maybe – and here's the kicker – maybe both will be good! It's a reminder that consistent effort, even when we don't see immediate results, can yield unexpected abundance.
Then Rabbi Yehoshua chimes in with a completely different, but equally compelling, interpretation. He applies the verse to charity. If a poor person comes to you in the morning, give. And if another comes in the evening, give again! Because you don't know for which of them God will record a good deed on your behalf. This one? That one? Or perhaps... both? It’s a powerful call to consistent compassion, a reminder that every act of kindness holds potential.
But it doesn't stop there! Rabbi Yishmael brings Torah study into the mix. If you studied Torah in your youth, keep studying in your old age! You don’t know which will endure, this study or that study, "or whether they both alike will be good.” And Rabbi Akiva? He focuses on teaching. If you had students when you were young, find more as you grow older. You have no idea which ones will flourish, which will carry on the tradition.
Speaking of Rabbi Akiva… his story takes a particularly poignant turn. Bereshit Rabbah tells us that he once had twelve thousand students, stretching across the land of Israel, from Akko to Antipatris. But tragically, they all died within a short period of time. Why? Because, the text tells us, they were "miserly" with their knowledge, unwilling to share and collaborate.
Ouch.
Eventually, Rabbi Akiva produced seven new disciples: Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehuda, Rabbi Yosei, Rabbi Shimon, Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua, Rabbi Yoḥanan HaSandlar, and Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov. (Some say the list varies slightly, including figures like Rabbi Neḥemya, Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai, and Rabbi Ḥanina ben Ḥakhinai.) He implored them: "My sons, the previous students died only because they were miserly toward one another. See to it that you do not act in accordance with their actions." And they listened! They spread Torah knowledge throughout the entire Land of Israel.
Talk about a turnaround!
Finally, Rabbi Dostai, quoting Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman, circles back to the original verse with a family-oriented twist. If you had children in your youth, take a wife in your old age and have more! Sound a little strange? The text points to Abraham as an example. He had children in his youth, and then, as we read, "Abraham took another [wife]…" (Genesis 25:1) and had more children.
So, what's the takeaway from all of this? It's not just about sowing seeds, giving charity, studying Torah, or having children. It’s about embracing a mindset of consistent effort and open-hearted generosity. It's about understanding that we often don't know the impact of our actions. But that shouldn't stop us from acting. Because who knows? Maybe everything we do, in its own way, will ultimately be good.