I imagine there are many of you out there for whom that clip needs no introduction. And if it’s your first time hearing it, well, I’m thrilled I get to share it with you. That was Peter Falk, Betsy Brantley, and a young Fred Savage in the opening scene of Rob Reiner’s comedy classic, “The Princess Bride.”
If you’re like me, you grew up on this movie, and you may (like me) be able to recite it verbatim from beginning to end. As Peter Falk’s grandpa says, it’s a story of fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles. And as young Fred replies, “It doesn’t sound too bad–I’ll try and stay awake”
If you know “The Princess Bride,” you probably remember all those other exciting parts—the sword fights and the chases. But it can be easy to forget that it’s really a story about something less dramatic and more mundane than all that. “The Princess Bride” is actually a story about a mitzvah–visiting the sick. If grandpa doesn’t come over to visit his grandson who’s home with a fever, the story doesn’t get told.
This is the third episode in our miniseries on ethical commandments in Judaism. In our first episode we talked about the idea that human beings are created in God’s image, which is a foundational concept in Jewish ethics. Last week we talked about welcoming guests. And today—you guessed it—I want to talk about bikkur cholim, or visiting the sick.
The great medieval sage Maimonides explained that visiting the sick was a mitzvah based on two basic ideas. The first is that it’s a form of gemilut hasadim: open, loving acts of kindness and connection. Under this heading he also includes things like comforting mourners, bringing joy to a new couple at their wedding, burying the dead, and so on—all things that we intuitively know to do because they’re the right, kind, compassionate thing to do. The second reason Maimonides gives for visiting the sick is that, like all these other actions, it’s an expression of the general mitzvah to love our neighbors as ourselves. “Anything you would want someone else to do for you,” he says, “you should do for your neighbor.”
I think these two ideas are linked. Why? Because that last piece, about doing unto others as you would want them to do to you—that’s what the idea of gemilut hasadim is all about. While it’s really good to have good intentions, it’s also really important to have good actions—to put those intentions out there into the world. When we do that, we start to create a virtuous circle, a kind of circulatory system of care: I care for you when you need it, you care for me when I need it, we all care for each other.
We all get sick from time to time. Like Fred Savage in “The Princess Bride,” most of us have spent time at home in bed with a fever. Some of us get more sick. Some of us get sick for longer. Some of us, sadly, will face severe illnesses.
No matter how sick we are, the basic reality of sickness is that we are taken out of circulation in regular, healthy society. We confront the limitations of our human bodies and the reality that, eventually, we’re not going to be alive anymore. And all of that can make being sick an experience of feeling lonely, isolated, unloved and uncared-for.
And that’s why bikur cholim, visiting someone who’s sick, is a mitzvah: because we reduce that sense of isolation, we restore that sense of connection, we remind the sick person that they’re loved—and we remind ourselves of that too.
Like many things in Judaism, visiting a sick person isn’t just an idea we espouse. There are rules and guidelines that have developed over the centuries to do it more mindfully. But for our purposes, I want to focus on one thing, and that’s being truly present when you’re doing this mitzvah—whether it’s in person, on video, or in a phone call.
To help us do that, here’s a short practice.
Begin by taking three good, deep breaths.
Check in with yourself: What do you notice in your own body as you think about the visit or call you’re about to make? Do you feel excited? Nervous? Uncomfortable? Notice whatever is present. Acknowledge it. And then see if you can gently set it aside.
Now try to bring to mind the person you’re visiting. Perhaps say out loud, as if to that person, “You are absolutely unique. You are infinitely valuable. And you are equal to everyone else.” Remind yourself that, even in this state, they are an image of the Divine.
Notice how it feels to imagine your encounter with this person as meeting a part of the Divine Presence. It might feel invigorating. Ennobling. Humbling. Something else.
This is what we do when we visit someone who’s sick—and it’s what they do by visiting us when we’re not 100%. We help to reveal the Divine Presence that’s here all the time.
[end music]
Early on during “The Princess Bride,” Grandpa explains to young Fred that whenever Buttercup and Wesley (the two main characters) would say “As you wish,” what they really meant was “I love you.” Visiting the sick is ultimately about expressing our love for one another. Which is why this is the closing sequence in the movie
Blessings for the journey. Know that I’m on it with you.