"My dear Millie,—You seem so interested in all I have so far told you about our life in Palestine, that I think you will like to hear of some of the ways that our poorer brethren are helped in Palestine.
"Many of the ways will appear strange to you; yet I think some of them are really better than those adopted by our community in England.
"Here, there is no Board of Guardians, so that the giving of charity, or a 'helping hand' to the sick or needy, is more of a direct personal matter. The givers strive to be wise and tactful, so that our people may not lose their self-respect; for, as a rule, they are naturally very sensitive, and if self-respect is lost some are encouraged to become beggars proper.
"Mother tells us that our Jewish ethics teaches 'that true charity, or almsgiving, is to make personal sacrifices when helping others. There is no self-sacrifice in giving what you cannot make use of yourself.' Indeed, one Jewish ethical teacher wrote: 'If one who has lived a luxurious life becomes sick and in need, we should try to deny ourselves, in order to give the sick one dainties such as chicken and wine.'
"Really some of our neighbours here seem to rejoice in giving away not only all they can spare, but also in making personal sacrifices in helping to relieve a needy neighbour.
"From early childhood they were trained to give. In every Jewish home in Palestine we see from two to perhaps more than a dozen boxes placed in various parts of the house, and written on each is the special charity to which the box is devoted. Into these boxes even tiny children are trained to drop a coin at special times, and it is considered a happy privilege to do so at times of Thanksgiving to God. The coins thus collected are from time to time distributed amongst the sick and the needy.
"There is one hospital near us; and, though it is known to be well managed, very few Jews whom we know go there for treatment, for it is a Missionary Hospital, and we strongly object to the methods of Christian missionaries. Instead of many of them as formerly, persecuting us for clinging to our dearly beloved religion, they now try, by acts of kindness in times of sickness and poverty, to influence our people in favour of accepting their religion.
"Indeed, I have heard some of our people say that they would rather go to the Arabs for treatment than enter the Missionary Hospital! Therefore those who cannot nurse the sick ones at home take them to the Bikkur-Holim, which a doctor visits once every few days. A mother, wife, or father goes with the patients to give them the necessary food and medicine, for in the Bikkur-Cholem there are no trained nurses. The relatives also keep the patients clean and tidy; but little cooking is done there, as the food is generally brought cooked from the patients' homes.
"I once went to visit the Bikkur-Cholem. One patient I saw had a jug of cold water brought to her, and, though her own lips were very parched, she would not take even one sip, but had the water given to those near her, who, in a very high state of fever, were clamouring for water. Other patients I saw were cheerfully and willingly sharing their food with those who had none. Until I had visited that Bikkur-Cholem I had never realized what real charity meant. For these sufferers, in their love and thoughtfulness and genuine self-sacrifice towards fellow-sufferers less fortunate than themselves, were obeying in spirit as well as in the letter the time-honoured commandment given us 'to love one's neighbour as oneself.'
"The arrangements in the Bikkur-Cholem are most insanitary; disinfectants are unheard of; and I greatly pitied the poor unfortunates that have to go there."