Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish

In the wisdom of ages past, the great philosopher and scholar Maimonides spoke these immortal words: “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” Though simple in sound, this teaching carries the weight of generations, the essence of compassion joined with responsibility. It is not merely about fish, nor about hunger, but about the deeper hunger of the human spirit—the desire for self-reliance, dignity, and wisdom. Maimonides, known for uniting reason with faith, taught that true charity is not the gift of bread, but the gift of strength, not the relief of need, but the liberation from it.

To give a man a fish is to ease his suffering for a moment. It is an act of mercy, yes, but also a fleeting one. It soothes the pain of hunger, yet leaves the man dependent upon the giver. But to teach him to fish—to share knowledge, skill, and discipline—is to grant him the power to sustain himself. In this, Maimonides reveals the highest form of giving: not the act of pity, but the act of empowerment. For education is the seed of freedom, and to lift a man’s spirit is greater than filling his stomach. The true healer does not bind the wound alone; he teaches the wounded how to walk again.

The origin of these words lies in the Jewish tradition of tzedakah, which means “righteous giving.” Maimonides, in his Eight Levels of Charity, described this teaching as the highest level of generosity—to help another become self-sufficient. It is a divine partnership between compassion and wisdom. He saw that giving without teaching leads to dependence, and teaching without compassion leads to pride. Thus, the wise must give with both hands: one that feeds, and one that instructs. Only then does charity become a bridge to dignity, not a chain of obligation.

History bears shining witness to this truth. Consider the life of Booker T. Washington, born into slavery yet rising to become a great educator of his people. After the chains of bondage were broken, he saw that freedom alone was not enough—his people needed skill, trade, and knowledge to survive in a world that had denied them everything. Through the founding of Tuskegee Institute, he did not merely “give” his students the means to live for a day; he taught them to fish, to build, to think, and to lead. His legacy endured because he understood what Maimonides taught centuries earlier: that teaching is the truest form of love.

So too in every age, this truth remains unbroken. When a parent teaches a child, when a leader trains his followers, when a teacher awakens curiosity instead of merely giving answers, they are feeding souls for a lifetime. But when society gives without guiding, it weakens the very people it seeks to uplift. Dependence breeds despair; empowerment breeds hope. It is not cruelty to ask one to learn; it is kindness to believe they can. For knowledge is the well that never dries, and to draw from it is to drink from eternity.

Yet, there is a gentleness in this wisdom as well. Maimonides did not scorn those who give bread to the hungry. He understood that mercy must precede instruction. A starving man cannot listen to philosophy; his stomach must first be filled. But once the hunger is quieted, the higher duty begins—to awaken the mind, to inspire labor, to guide the soul toward independence. Thus, the circle of compassion is complete: feed the body, then feed the spirit.

The lesson is timeless: true generosity uplifts, it does not enslave. When you see one in need, do not only offer sustenance—offer skill. When you comfort the suffering, also give them the means to rise. When you teach, do not merely inform—ignite. Each of us is both the teacher and the taught, for life itself is the great sea, and every man must learn to cast his net within it.

So remember, as Maimonides taught: to give is good, but to teach is divine. Feed the hungry today, yes—but give them the wisdom to feed themselves tomorrow. For only then will your kindness outlive your hand, and your compassion become eternal. To teach another to stand is to honor the image of the Creator within them. And when one life learns to sustain itself, the whole world grows stronger—fed not just for a day, but for all the days to come.