Attitudes about Giving

Dennis Eisenberg was interviewed by Mishpacha magazine.  He trains yeshiva administrators after having been a successful yeshiva executive director for decades. 

He discusses fundraising and compares fundraising in the 1980's to today.  He says, "When I started in 1983, the donor base was comprised of Baby Boomers who gave [tzedaka] out of a sense of duty, of obligation.  For them, tzedaka and maaser are mitzvos like all other mitzvos."

Times have changed and now:

"Donors wanted returns; some mosdos offered prestige, others promised segulos, but it became about 'what's in it for me?' Now, I don't mean that people are completely selfish, but it was clear that donors needed to identify and build a stronger kesher with the cause, and even altruistic, selfless donors wanted the feeling that they'd given to 'their' cause, a sense of pride of ownership."

How interesting.  In the 1980's the maala (advantage) was kabbolas ol, you gave because you were supposed to give.  The chisaron (disadvantage) was that when you do mitzvos solely out of a sense of obligation, there is no feeling there.

These days, the chisaron is a lack of kabbolas ol.  The maala is that people get personally involved and care.

Charity Fund Following Tragedy

There was a recent tragic bus crash in Israel, in which six people were killed and a kalla was seriously injured.  Shortly afterward, I saw a news item here which impressed me.

 

It says that a charity fund was established to help the family.  That often happens after a tragedy and depending on who was ch'v killed or hurt, I've sometimes wondered why tzedaka is being asked for. Before the tragedy, they weren't making worldwide appeals asking for funds, so why now? In other words, what about the tragedy makes it necessary to ask for money? Sometimes it is not at all clear, and it seems to take advantage of people's feeling bad over what happened and wanting to do something to help. And you feel uncomfortable piping up and asking why money is being raised.

 

In this case, for the first time, I see an itemized list of additional expenses that the family will have because of the crash.

 

Feeding the Hungry

Today, before leaving the house, I prepared a snack of cashews in a baggie to take along.  I was sitting on the subway and, as happens periodically, someone announced that he was homeless and diabetic and hungry.  Did we have anything to give him?

I don't give money because you don't know what they'll do with it.  And I usually don't have anything else to offer.  But this time, I had nuts.  So I took out the baggie and when he came by, I asked - would you like these?

He gave a big "yeah!" and grinned and moved on.  I was hoping everybody else saw whitey give him food, and if they were discerning, Jewish whitey, while most of his kinsmen gave him nothing.  I feel that if someone says he's hungry, and you can feed him, then you do.  I should have thought, but forgot, that I am emulating Hashem by providing the man with food.

I hope it made a Kiddush Hashem.  I really missed my snack later in the day.

Asking for Tzedaka

I received an email with a link to a fundraising effort of a seminary girl.  She was finishing a year of seminary and wanted to remain for a second year, which is known as Shana Bet.

The link brought me to a personal fundraising website that people use to raise money for things that are important to them.  So the girl writes how she scraped the money together for the first year of seminary and how important she thinks a second year will be for her.

Let me say at the outset, she sounded sincere and serious about making the most of another year of seminary.  However, without even getting into the issue as to whether a second year of seminary is something anybody should be funding, what bothers me about the appeal for money is just that - it's a hand held out for tzedaka. 

How is it different than sitting on a street frequented by religious Jews with a cup and asking for tzedaka? Or going around in shul and collecting money?

I think that the fact that the Internet puts a distance between people; after all, you are not seeing them face to face, makes the collectors forget the implications of what they are doing.  The same could be said for an appeal written and mailed, but the Internet is even more conducive because there is a website set up just for this, and you can easily email the link to numerous people.  There is no need to stuff envelopes, address them, and put stamps on them.      

Some years ago, a person introduced an Israeli girl to a crowd at a shiur and explained that she was here to raise money for her wedding.  I was so taken aback by this.  Did nobody care to protect her dignity?

Likewise, years ago, a woman came from Israel collecting money for her family.  I guess it was supposed to impress us that she came, rather than her husband.  After all, he was learning.  Again, I was appalled.  In the stories that I've read about beggars collecting money, they were men.  Money was raised for hachnosas kalla and widows but, as far as I know, the kallos and widows were not traveling about and knocking on doors with their hand out. 

In desperate situations, may none of us know from it, women might have to collect for themselves, but otherwise?

As to how I would feel if a yeshiva bachur made an Internet appeal for money to enable him to remain in yeshiva or someone in kollel made an appeal asking for money, again, I would wonder whether they would also hold out a cup on a busy corner of a religious neighborhood or collect money in shul. 

So it's two issues: 1) males or females collecting tzedaka from the public  2) a woman collecting tzedaka for herself.

A New Career

Azriela Jaffe wrote an article in Ami about a man in her community, Steve, who was working as an accountant and hated it.  His wife told him to find something that would make him happy.  He eventually spoke with an appliance repairman, George, who was friendly with his in-laws, who invited Steve to join him and be shown the ropes.

George did not ask for any money as he trained him for six months.  Steve went out with him every day and watched how George did his job.

Steve says George loved what he did and loved the idea of setting someone else up (the highest level of tzedaka according to the Rambam) in business.

Steve opened his own business and has been doing what he enjoys for 29 years.  In addition to training Steve, George also trained his son, and son-in-law, both appliance repairmen, as well as eight non-Jews.

Steve in turn has trained a young man in Lakewood and is helping someone else.  "Like George, I don't want any money from them.  I get nachas out of seeing my pupils become successful.  George was very proud of me, and I am very proud of them."

-- That George was so bighearted as to train others so they could support themselves honorably, is inspiring.

-- What I find just as moving is that many people consider a white collar job like accounting to be superior to a blue collar job like appliance repair.  In shidduchim, a girl or woman are far more likely to be interested in an accountant that an appliance repairman.  I give great credit to Steve's wife for encouraging him to do what makes him happy, rather than insisting that he remain in a more "honorable" profession, sitting in an office.

-- I'd like to know whether Steve always loved working with his hands, fixing things.  Why did he choose to spend years on a college degree and studying for the CPA? The Chovos HaLevavos says work in a field you are drawn to and are good at.

-- Common wisdom is that you need not only an undergraduate degree but a graduate degree in order to make a decent parnassa. Steve spent six months and no money learning a profession he loves which apparently supports his family and supports many others in this line of work.

Shlomie!

 

I started reading it on Rosh Hashana and finished it on Yom Kippur - I highly recommend the book Shlomie! (Artscroll).  He wasn't the usual rosh yeshiva, mashgiach, or rebbe that Artscroll biographies are about.  He was a balabus who lived in Flatbush who was a vilde chaya as a boy and went from yeshiva to yeshiva to yeshiva.  Today, he would be drugged for ADHD.  His good heart and yiras shomayim were always apparent, even when he was unable to sit in a classroom.

He went on to become extremely wealthy and a huge baal tzedaka.  His greatness was not merely in being able to write checks (though that is a great thing).  He loved people and loved making people happy.  He was constantly alert to how to help people in ways that had nothing to do with money.  Another aspect of his greatness was the fact that even though he could barely sit long enough to learn, he had regular learning sedarim and was machshiv Torah and talmidei chachamim.  He sought to grow spiritually and kept moving further away from a materialistic lifestyle.

He is an inspiration for those who were not a success in yeshiva and an inspiration to all when it comes to loving and pursuing chesed.  It's a book about a "regular guy," who with all his fun-loving geshmak-keit, was quite extraordinary.