A long time ago, back when the number zero was cutting-edge technology, Rabbi Hillel said: “If I am not for myself, then who is for me? And if I am for myself only, then what am I? And if not now, when?” I think about these words often, but this year even more so than before.

These days we tend to read Hillel as follows: “I had better practice self-care, but not forget to help out others; and I had better start right away.” It’s a fine sentiment, without question. It’s easy to apply the idea to the events of this year. It speaks directly to the importance of doing the best to keep ourselves healthy, to follow the public health guidelines, to observe the quarantine as best we can, so that we can ensure that the most vulnerable amongst us have a chance. It’s about examining our own personal prejudices, so that we can end bigotry and systemic injustice in the world around us. And so much more.

I’ve always found that this modern interpretation is somewhat unsatisfying, though. Not wrong - surely the idea of self-care with an eye towards helping others is a fine one - rather, missing some nuance. For one thing, I’m nearly positive that “self-care” as we think of it today would have sounded very strange to someone from Hillel’s day. For another thing, the modern interpretation sort of ignores the problem of time, as though Hillel’s third question (“if not now, when?”) is merely some kind of exclamation point, like a calendar alarm or a notification on your phone.

These words come into focus, for me anyway, when I think about Martin Luther King, Jr.’s I Have a Dream speech. King spoke quite eloquently about “the fierce urgency of now”, which is to say the need for immediate and forceful legislation for racial equality; he wanted to see the Civil Rights Act passed. At the same time he envisioned a long, difficult road ahead; he demanded, first and foremost among other things, an end to police brutality. Were he alive today, I can only assume he’d still be pushing for progress.

I do not know if King had Hillel’s saying in mind when he wrote that speech, but it wouldn’t surprise me in the least - King was famously well-versed in a broad range of religious thought. Regardless, I think it’s safe to say that King, who considered self-purification to be the starting point of protest, would have found a great deal of common ground with Hillel.

It might be better to read Hillel, through this lens, to mean something perhaps more demanding than what the modern translation suggests. It’s not merely about self-care, but rather about self-purification, as King described in Letter from Birmingham Jail: finding within ourselves the space to make sacrifices, to suffer creatively in the name of a larger cause. Perhaps the first question might be better translated as “if I do not have myself” - that is to say, if I don’t have some integrity and if I’m not honest with myself, then who will do so instead? And the second question might be better translated as, “if I belong to myself only” - that is to say, if I’m not willing to sacrifice, to suffer creatively, for others, then am I anything at all? And the third question is not really about urgency, but rather about underscoring the long road ahead: every moment is “now”, every moment demands self-purification and creative suffering. Self-purification is never complete, social justice is never fully achieved, sacrifice is always needed. It’s not a hypothetical question but rather a practical one: what are we to do, and when precisely will we do it?

Hillel and his contemporaries were, to my understanding, rather fond of grounding themselves in the real world: not merely studying Torah, but also working hard at practical trades, as a way to understand it that much better. This year, and this moment, calls for more of this kind of thinking. It’s about integrity and creative sacrifice, to be sure - but it’s also about keeping an eye on the long road ahead, and remembering that sacrifice for the good of others is the never-ending price of integrity.