An 11-year-old boy and his father went fishing the day before bass season started. At first the boy caught sunfish and perch, which were fine to keep. When his pole bent and doubled over, he knew something huge was on the other end. His father watched with admiration as the boy skillfully worked the fish in and finally lifted it, exhausted from the lake. It was the largest fish he had ever seen, a bass. In the moonlight, the boy and his father looked at the hand some fish. Then the father lit a match and looked at his watch. It was 10 PM--two hours before the bass season officially opened. He looked at the fish, then at the boy. “You’ll have to put it back, son,” he said.
“Dad,” the boy cried.
“There will be other fish,” his father said.
“Not as big as this one,” the boy protested.
The boy looked around the lake… He looked again at his father. Even though no one had seen them, nor could anyone ever know what time he caught the fish, the boy could tell by his father’s voice that the decision was not negotiable. He slowly worked the hook out of the lip of the huge bass and lowered it into the water. The fish swished its powerful tail and disappeared. The boy suspected that he would never again see such a great fish.
Today the boy has become a successful architect in New York City. He finds time to take his children fishing on that same lake in New Hampshire where he fished with his father. He has never again caught such a magnificent fish. But he does see that same fish-again and again-every time he comes up against the question of ethics. For, as his father taught him, ethics are simple matters of right and wrong. It is only the practice of ethics that is difficult. Do we do right when no one is looking? Do we refuse to take a vantage of someone because we have information he doesn’t? We would, if we were taught to put the fish back when we were young. –Rabbi Fred Davidow
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