Does everyone think we are poor?

Dear Friends, When we first arrived in Switzerland two decades ago, we had one child, then two, and very quickly three. Local friends brought us second-hand clothes—clothes their children no longer needed. At first, we were deeply hurt. What? Why? Does everyone think we are poor? It took us some time to understand that this is simply an accepted practice here. People initially buy expensive, high-quality items, take good care of them, and there is no shame whatsoever in passing them on or receiving them as a gift from friends—it’s the norm. In fact, when we looked into it, we realized that the second-hand clothes we received were of higher quality and more expensive than the new ones we had considered buying. At a later stage, we noticed people putting good items outside their homes—like a chair, a vacuum cleaner, or even kitchenware—accompanied by a note saying"gratis zum Mitnehmen,"meaning "free to take." Ordinary, respectable people would stop in broad daylight, get off their bikes, examine the items without any embarrassment, and take what they needed. I still remember the first thing I ever took from the street—it was a high-quality and expensive toddler car seat, which I believe we used for twenty years. The peak of it all was when our eldest son turned three, and someone gave us a gift—a second-hand bicycle with training wheels—because their child had already moved on to a bigger one. When I checked, I realized that the price of that second-hand bicycle on the market was actually higher than the new one we had planned to buy. In my opinion, the vast majority of the cars on the streets around me are relatively old but very well maintained. Even today, there are quite a few second-hand furniture and clothing stores here. I see this as a positive thing—not rushing to throw something away when it can still be repaired, not buying just because something is on sale, and not spending money on things we don’t need simply because there’s a Sale. To me, this represents a form of impulse control and self-discipline—perhaps also a touch of Swiss meticulousness. Maybe this comes from the maturity of people who have lived in the same place for centuries. Perhaps it is a deep respect for raw materials, as is common in classic Europe. It could also be the natural humility and quiet confidence of people who feel no need for showiness and, in fact, almost have an aversion to it. Most likely, it’s a combination of all of the above. When we built the Chabad House in Basel, the friends who were with us urged us to seek out simple yet high-quality materials that would last for many years. Fifteen years later, it is quite clear: everything we bought that was of high quality has remained strong and beautiful, while wherever we compromised, it shows. We found the chairs for the Chabad House at a company specializing in this field. The chair we purchased is called"Kirchenstuhl"—a church chair—designed for people who sit on it for hours, read from a book, and listen to a cantor or a rabbi. Each chair cost €250 at the time, and for over a decade, not a single chair wobbled—until this past year, when some of them started collapsing under their users. Again, the dilemma arose: should we throw them away and buy cheap new ones, or invest in a carpenter who would build wooden reinforcements and repair each chair? The local mindset—and probably also my upbringing—played its role, and the carpenter was invited. Last June, he came, examined the chairs, and devised a plan. A month later, he returned to present me with various options. His eyes sparkled with excitement: "I worked on this outside my regular hours,“ he said. "There is a joy and thrill in encountering fine raw material that requires a solution, a repair, and reinforcement." This week, he arrived with the wooden supports he had built in his workshop and repaired each chair individually. The cost? €45 per chair. But in my eyes, it was undoubtedly the right thing to do. I have no direct way to connect this to the weekly Torah portion, but certainly to life in general. Everything—not only material things, but certainly also those—everything we invest in is worth doing in a way that takes more time, costs more, and ensures better quality. And when something starts to wobble—whether in marriage, parenting, livelihood, or even just a chair or a table—it is worth seeking out a professional with a sparkle in their eyes, someone who can build the right kind of support so that it lasts for many more years to come. One more thing: Every week, I try to write about things that have touched me over the past days—things I have experienced. This post, though, is not only about my perspective this week, but also a request and an invitation to take part in restoring the chairs. €45 per chair. Here is the link for credit card payments, PayPal, or bank transfers: https://www.chabadbasel.com/templates/articlecco_cdo/aid/4195815/jewish/Donate-Tzedaka.htm May we have much success, and Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Zalman Wishedski