The Toilet Was Gold. America's Treasure Wasn't

Several years ago, the Guggenheim Museum in New York unveiled one of the most talked-about exhibits in its history. It wasn't a painting and it wasn't a sculpture. It was a toilet. Not a replica, or a conceptual display, but an actual, fully-functioning public toilet that museum visitors were invited to use.

There was just one catch. "America” (the title of the art piece) wasn't like any other toilet. It was carved from 18-karat solid gold and valued at more than $2 million, giving an entirely new meaning to the phrase "The Goldene Medina." But it also represented so much more. According to the museum’s curator, “More than 100,000 people have waited patiently in line for the opportunity to commune with art and with nature. In a gallery environment where visitors are constantly being told, ‘Don’t touch,’ this is an extraordinary opportunity to spend time completely alone with a work of art by a leading contemporary artist.” The toilet is also a satiric dig at the current state of affairs in America, a country facing no shortage of challenges.

As absurd as it sounds, the exhibit unintentionally raises an important question. What really is America's greatest treasure? Is it its wealth? Its success? Its prosperity? As we celebrate America's 250th anniversary this weekend, I'd suggest that America's greatest treasure isn't something made of gold. It was a decision made by one man nearly 250 years ago, a decision that forever changed the meaning of political power.

On the night of December 22, 1783, some 200 people gathered in Annapolis, Maryland, to honor the great General George Washington. Less than two years earlier, at Yorktown, General Washington and his ragtag Continental Army had defeated the greatest military power on earth. Three months earlier, the Revolutionary War formally ended, with America securing its independence. Washington was hailed as the savior of the new nation. If anyone could have crowned himself king without opposition, it was George Washington.

And so it was no surprise on that cold evening in 1783 that Washington was heralded as His Excellency and that the festive gala was accompanied by thirteen toasts and the discharge of thirteen cannons, one for each of the original colonies. Yet everything that made Washington great happened the very next day.

For the vast majority of world history, the more power one had, the more power one wanted. All of that changed on that momentous morning of December 23, 1783. George Washington, the commander in chief of the Continental Army, sat before the Congress of the Confederation in Annapolis, Maryland. As Washington rose to make his address, his voice was shaking with emotion, and tears filled the eyes of the audience. Washington did something virtually unheard of in world history: At the height of his popularity, and with absolute military authority in his hands, he voluntarily resigned his commission and returned home.

It was one of the most dramatic moments in American history. Great Britain’s king at the time, King George III, is recorded to have asked what Washington would do after winning independence. When told, “They say he will return to his farm,” the incredulous monarch responded that this act, “places him in a light the most distinguished of any man living.”

The contrast between his immense fame and the humility he displayed reveals exactly what made Washington extraordinary. Washington had all of the power. But instead of using it to his advantage or abusing it, he gave it back to the people. Washington secured his place in history not by holding on to power, but by letting it go. His greatest victory wasn't over the British. It was over the timeless temptation to believe that power exists for the benefit of the one who possesses it.

Perhaps this is one reason that Hashem, in this week’s Parsha, chose Yehoshua to succeed Moshe. The Midrash famously asks what distinguished Yehoshua from so many other great leaders and scholars. It answers with a surprising detail: Yehoshua would arrive early to arrange the benches in the Beis Medrash and stay late to put everything away. The Torah's model of leadership begins not with power but with service. Yehoshua didn't view leadership as a privilege to be enjoyed but as a responsibility to be embraced.

Washington's defining moment reflected that very same ideal. History remembers George Washington not because he knew how to win power, but because he knew how, and when, to surrender it. The greatest leaders are not those who cling to authority. They are the ones who understand that authority was never theirs to own in the first place.

That perspective also helps explain a uniquely Jewish tradition. As professor Jonathan Sarna points out, throughout our history, Jews living in the Diaspora have recited special prayers. Yirmiyahu, writing from Yerushalayim to the Jewish community exiled in Babylonia, explained: "Seek the welfare of the city to which I have exiled you and pray to the Lord in its behalf; for in its prosperity you shall prosper." Our Rabbis codified this in Pirkei Avos when Rabbi Chanina teaches: “Pray for the welfare of the government, for were it not for the fear it inspires, every man would swallow his neighbor alive.” And the traditional prayer for local government that we recite weekly was firmly cemented into Jewish liturgy by the early 17th century.

No matter what your feelings are about America’s 250th Anniversary, it’s important to temper those feelings with appreciation and gratitude to the founders of this country who, with remarkable foresight, selflessness, and courage, created a system of government that would be "of the people, by the people, and for the people." As we celebrate this milestone, it's worth remembering that America's greatest achievement wasn't simply winning its independence; it was establishing the revolutionary principle that no one, not even a national hero, is above the people or the law. That principle was cemented by one man's decision nearly 250 years ago.

George Washington embodied the Torah ideal of leadership. His finest moment was not the day he won a war, but the day he willingly surrendered power. Perhaps that's the lesson we should carry with us this week. True greatness is measured not by the power we accumulate, but by the humility to use it in the service of others, and, when the time comes, to let it go.

The Guggenheim's golden toilet may have been called “America,” but America's greatest treasure was never its gold. It was the character of leaders who understood that power is not something to be possessed, but something to be entrusted. As Jews, we express our gratitude for that gift every week when we pray for the welfare of our government. This Shabbos, as our nation marks its 250th birthday, don't let that prayer become routine. Say it with a little more intention, a little more appreciation, and a renewed sense of gratitude for the extraordinary blessing of living in a country where even its greatest leader chose to serve rather than rule.