The holiday of Shavuot demonstrates a method of gift giving that we may want to deploy when thinking about advancing social justice.

Think about it. What might have happened if instead of the whole counting of the Omer (those 49 days between Passover and Shavuot), and had instead received the Torah on the last night of Passover — perhaps as a gift for the hard work of putting together a Seder and drinking 4 glasses of wine?!  That would have been more efficient, right?

There are many commentaries on the purpose of separating the holidays by 49 days. But all of them make it apparent that both the giver and receivers of the Torah needed to be prepared for the giving and accepting of this gift. After all, it seems as though the 49 day delay in the giving of the Torah was not a result of a lack of preparedness on the part of the giver. Rather, it was the receivers who had more preparing to do. When it comes to the giving of Tzedakah, it is not merely the content of the gift that matters, it is the time, place, approach and the people who we intend to help that define whether the opportunity for Tzedakah is ripe. Receiving the Torah prematurely may have resulted in an outcome different than the one we know—the emergence of an independent Jewish people.

Giving Tzedakah, effectively, requires mindfulness—awareness about the material objects that are being exchanged but also about the feelings felt by each person involved. This mindfulness made it possible for the Jews to accept the Torah and make it a defining part of Jewish life moving forward. The receiving of the Torah itself wasn’t an isolated incident. It came with 49 days of preparation, where the desire for the Torah led to extraordinary anticipation. Only when the Israelites themselves demonstrated their desire to receive the Torah was the Torah given to them.

When we think of the many gifts that the Israelites received before the giving of the Torah, they seem to be given by an omniscient and omnipresent God who rescued them from the Egyptians, gave them Manna, split the Red Sea, and so on. However, on Shavuot, we don’t see a God who knows what is best for the Israelites. Instead, we see another face of God – God as partner; God humbly asking the Israelites whether they will accept the Torah. The Torah may have been received differently if it were given by a high and mighty God who had little familiarity with the Israelites. Instead, Moses descended upon the mountain and then God is said to have descended onto the mountain. While it is true that God and the Israelites are not standing on equal footing, we certainly see an attempt to create a more balanced relationship, where God acknowledges the need for a receiver of the Torah, trusts that the Israelites will provide the answer that suits them best and gives them the opportunity to choose their own destiny.

Don’t people living in poverty deserve similar treatment?

Like many Jewish children, my kids live for camp! They count down every day of the year until it’s time for camp to begin. It’s the highlight of their year. They come by this camp obsession naturally, because I was the same exact way. Camp was and is still a profound experience in my Jewish life. For many of us, the moment we arrived at camp we were forever changed.

And yet.

My husband and I share four kids, and with a price tag of about $4,000 per child, that means it will cost us roughly $16,000 to send our kids to summer camp. Yes, you read that right: sixteen thousand dollars.

I know the three-and-a-half-weeks my kids spend at camp are priceless. I also know that with $16,000, I could pay a full year’s tuition at a state college.

For almost 20 years, I have worked in the field of Jewish education. I am not destitute, but I do not have $16,000-a-summer kind of money. Camp isn’t the only expensive Jewish experience for our children – there’s religious school tuition, youth group events, retreats, and let’s not even talk about Israel trips.

Especially in the South, and small communities anywhere – we can’t afford to make these opportunities anything other than amazing and accessible for our Jewish children and families. The question is – are we? Specifically, do Jewish organizations provide Jewish financial assistance in a way that honors and displays the values of Judaism?

Judaism teaches us time and time again the importance of tzedakah and how it is our obligation, not choice, to help others. (That’s why it’s great to see lots of new camp scholarship opportunities, like BunkConnect—though it’s for first-time campers only.) We need to give assistance, and just importantly, we must give it the right way.

We don’t make this process very easy. As an educator, I have helped countless families find aid because they had no idea where to look. If you don’t know the system, you can get overwhelmed fast. Then, once you find an opportunity, you start on the paperwork. Oh, the paperwork! I have had to provide less financial paperwork to buy a car than to receive a $500 camp scholarship. This paperwork is to be filled out each and every year, despite the fact that most people’s financial situations do not change drastically from one year to the next.

The Shofar calls us to atone

We live with a practical tradition. We begin the New Year with ten days devoted to introspection. Between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we are asked to review our past; failures and victories, to evaluate our relationships and how we can make things better for ourselves and those we care for. We take stock of our lives and try to put ourselves back on the right path. “Chet” is the Hebrew word commonly translated as “sin.” It is derived from the term which means “to miss the target.” The assumption is that sin is a mistake; an action we would correct if possible. It is human to make mistakes—it is brave to try to correct them. This makes “Teshuvah” translated as “to return” an attainable task. We are not expected to be perfect but we are expected to clean up the messes we have made.

Our tradition identifies two categories of relationships; those we have with each other and those relationship we have with God. The mistakes we make fall into these categories as well: The ways in which we hurt others and the ways in which we hurt God.

Isn’t it incredible that we can hurt God? Some may disagree and ask, “How can a perfect God be concerned with our sins?” In my opinion it is a measure of God’s love for us that God created a relationship in which God is affected by our actions. And, while some may say this is only a metaphor —I am not so sure. If one truly believes in the concept of “Tikun Olam,” and recognizes our responsibility to fix the world, how can God not be disappointed and hurt when we fail?

This interplay between “Teshuvah” and “Chet,” our relationship to others creates a very involved dynamic and ideally forces us to face our frailties and responsibilities. We have made mistakes—how can we atone for them? We are always in need of repentance and atonement.

We learn from the Midrash (Mishle 6:6):

The students of Rabbi Akiva asked him, “Which is greater, Teshuvah or Tzedakah?

Keshet is pretty excited about
The Guys Next Door
, a feature-length documentary that tells the story of Erik and Sandro, a gay couple with two daughters birthed by their friend Rachel. (Check out the trailer below!)

We had the chance to chat with Amy Geller, who is co-producing and directing the film along with Allie Humenuk. Amy, who was the Artistic Director of the Boston Jewish Film Festival from 2012-2014, came across Erik, Sandro, and Rachel’s story through an alumni connection at her college, and was inspired to share their experiences.

Amy and Allie spent three and a half years filming The Guys Next Door—which includes, as Amy puts it, “the ultimate act of
tzedakah
.” Rachel, who is in her 40s and married to her husband Tony, has three biological children of her own. According to Amy, “by helping her gay friends to have daughters, Rachel makes a deeply personal decision that has political implications. With the support of Tony and their children, she affirms gay rights and same-sex parenting.”

Rachel shared how her Jewish faith inspired her to act as a surrogate for Erik and Sandro:

I am Jewish and my parents raised me to believe in equality and giving to others in whatever ways we can. As a mother now, it is important for me to continue living the foundation of those (Jewish) values, and teach them to my children. My experience in helping my good friends, Erik and Sandro, be able to have children, symbolizes to me the notion of Tikkun Olam—my little part in helping heal the world. It struck me as incredibly unfair that my husband and I could so easily have children, and that for two gay men to have children would be such a hardship, particularly financial. I believe that being able to help them have their daughters not only benefits them, but also benefits my family, and really, benefits the world around us. My hope is that it helps people see that family can look like many different and wonderful things, and how two gay men, given the opportunity, can create a beautiful home filled with love and strong values, just as well as a heterosexual couple can.

We can’t wait to see the film when it’s finished! If you’re inspired by Erik and Sandro’s love—or Rachel’s act of tzedakah—you can help support the film through its Kickstarter campaign.

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In Parashat Re’eh, this week’s Torah portion, we’re plainly taught that if we freely give to brothers and sisters who are in need, we, ourselves, will be blessed.

In wondering what this might mean, I realize that I have had just such an experience…

One 4th of July, my husband Ross and I were languishing in our empty nest enjoying the spaciousness of the day, when we got a call from a local shelter where we periodically cooked for and ate with the homeless men who spent their nights there. No one had signed on to cook for the holiday so we looked at one another and shrugged, then made a grocery run, dragged our grill to the site, and created a festive BBQ for 50 men.

At one moment during our preparation of the meal, Ross and I squeezed by one another in the galley kitchen, my husband on his way to the freezer, and I on my way out of the pantry, and as we passed he said: “I love you.”

It was the dearest of moments, and I flushed, understanding that Ross’s expression of affection was precipitated by the way he felt about himself, about us, and our life together in that particular moment in which we were so comfortably engaged in an act of giving.  His “I love you” was my blessing, our blessing, the sweetness we were offering to others reflected right back into our relationship.

As we come to the close of this year of shmita, this one-year-in-seven sabbatical of openhanded release, wherein we are more keenly aware that we are merely custodians of all that we have, it feels particularly important to affirm the blessing of open handedness, acknowledging what we gain in the act of giving.

We don’t give for the sake of gratitude. Our tradition’s highest form of tzedakah is anonymous giving that is anonymously received. And still, there is the reward of blessing, the promise that our good will circle back to us as palpable grace.

Perhaps you have had an experience similar to mine, recognition of a blessing you enjoy as the consequence of your generosity. If so, I invite you to share your stories!

As we enter the Days of Awe, it will be lovely to acknowledge more than our sins. Our sins matter, as do our acts of openhanded loving kindness. The energy we offer our world is the energy our world returns to us.

When is Rosh Hashanah 2015? Find out here. Or wondering when is Yom Kippur 2015? Click here to find out!

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There’s a new TV show out called “Adam Ruins Everything,” where comedian Adam Conover shares everything that’s factually incorrect — and even harmful — about topics like security, cars and food. The first episode is entitled “Adam Ruins Giving,” and in it, he talks about why canned food drives are a terrible idea, why Tom’s Shoes is not so generous, and why  you shouldn’t give blood immediately after a disaster.

Why? Because, as he says, many of the ways we give aren’t about the people we are trying to help — they are designed simply to make us feel good.

Yes, when we give, we do feel a nice, warm glow. But unlike the Christian concept of “charity,” which comes from the word “caring,” Judaism talks about tzedakah, which is about justice. Making a donation shouldn’t be about making ourselves feel good — it should be about making the world better.

That’s why there’s an emerging movement called “Effective Altruism,” with two new books on how we can do the most good. My former professor, Peter Singer, just wrote The Most Good You Can Do, and Will MacAskill has written Doing Good Better.

Both authors argue that when we give, we shouldn’t be focused on an emotional attachment to a cause. Instead, we should use reason and evidence to determine where we donate our money. As Singer says,

Effective altruists will feel the pull of helping an identifiable child form their own nation, region, or ethnic group but will then ask themselves if that is the best thing to do. They know that saving a life is better than making a wish come true and that saving three lives is better than saving one. So they don’t give to whatever cause tugs most strongly at their heartstrings. They give to the cause that will do the most good, given the abilities, time, and money they have available. (p. 6-7)

On one level, there’s something very powerful about effective altruism. We have limited resources, so we do need to ask, “How can we do the most good with the money we have?” Yet there’s also something about it that leaves me a little cold.

Thanksgiving 2015: We had a full house down here in Jackson, Mississippi, with all of our kids home for the holiday.  It was wonderful to spend quality time talking about college, internships, school and all of the activities everyone’s engaged in these days. And of course, we talked about the next holiday around the corner: Hanukkah.

As we have done since they were little kids, we asked our children to write down their Hanukkah wish lists. They won’t get everything on their list – but they will get something they really want. (When your kids are ages 22, 18 and 14, the wish list is very different from those long-ago days of wishes for dolls, toy cars and Legos. Now the list includes gadgets, clothes, and money to save for really big ticket items – car payment, anyone?)

For years, I have been thinking about starting a family tradition that for one reason or another, I never got off the ground. When the kids were younger, instead of a gift for one night of Hanukkah, I wanted to give them money for tzedakah and have each child make a donation to a charity of his/her choice – something similar to the Fifth Night project. But now, my kids are older, and already make donations on their own. So I thought we could tweak the Fifth Night project. Having recently participated in Natan’s Amplifier Giving Circle workshop, I decided we would create a family giving circle! I reviewed my notes and decided we would use the “pop-up circle” model, which is a 90-minute version of the entire giving circle experience. Armed with the pop-up circle instructions, the Slingshot ’14-’15 guide, and information from local nonprofits, I was ready. We were going to start discussing where we wanted to pool our resources to make a difference!

Only, we didn’t get started.

The long weekend went by far too quickly. Between the arrival of the last family member Thanksgiving day at noon – the eating, visiting, cleaning up, football, followed by a bit of shopping and Shabbat services on Friday, sleep-in day Saturday, and study time (why would you schedule an exam the Monday after Thanksgiving?), the kids spending some time with friends — in a blink, it was over. All of a sudden it was Sunday morning, and my older two are getting ready for their drives back.

So in our final visit around the table as a family, I talked to them about my hopes and dreams for a family giving circle. I asked them to begin thinking about the organizations that they know (or want to research) that do good work. During Hanukkah,  we will create our giving circle. We are committed to it!

It’s so easy to get overwhelmed during this stressful time of year, Thanksgiving to January, which always includes travel, gift giving, finals, deadlines, and on and on. But let’s not get overwhelmed today.

Today is Giving Tuesday, which is why it felt like the perfect time to share step one in my family’s giving circle journey. Giving Tuesday emerged as a day for philanthropy amidst all of the other flurry this time of year, as their website explains: “We have a day for giving thanks. We have two for getting deals. Now, we have #GivingTuesday, a global day dedicated to giving back.” It’s a nice reminder, and a good way to kick off the “stressful” month of December: Let’s think of others, give generously, and be thankful for all that we have. And later this month, I’ll share the details of our family giving circle. Stay tuned.

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People want our tzedakah dollars. We are all deluged by solicitations, whether through phone calls, online requests, mailed letters, or even directly by sh’lichim, supplicants, on our doorsteps. At celebrations, conferences, lectures, and other public events, we are solicited – sometimes almost tackled – by friends, acquaintances, family members, and even people we do not know.

What should we do?

Giving away money responsibly is not so easy. Although there are thousands of books and articles about how to make money and how to invest it, there are few about how to give money away. How do we know where to direct our charitable dollars, our tzedakah? How should we determine which of the many institutions, agencies, projects, and organizations that solicit us are worthy of our contributions, large or small?

We can begin this process by examining our values and determining our vision of the ideal world. What are we passionate about? What are our cherished beliefs and hopes? We should then make our tzedakah decisions based on these values and beliefs. We all give tzedakah both because we want to and because we are obligated to give. No matter how much or how little we have, Jewish law dictates that we give 10 percent of our income as ma’aser, a tithe. But we have the freedom to choose the recipients of our tzedakah.

My own values involve maximizing the potential of Jewish girls and women. I believe that women and girls should be afforded increased opportunities to engage in Jewish ritual, to have equal access to leadership positions, and to have unlimited opportunities to acquire knowledge. The following three situations exemplify my own decision-making process.

1. A fundraiser for a large and old Jewish organization asked me for a contribution. Knowing there were no women officers in this organization, I asked him why this was the case. He answered that when the organization was formed more than 100 years ago, it was written into its constitution that women were not allowed to serve as officers. I responded that the Constitution of the United States allowed slavery and denied women the vote, but that we have since amended it. So, why not amend his organization’s constitution? He replied that women could not serve as officers for halakhic reasons, and one does not change halakha. To this I responded as follows: There are differing halakhic opinions on the issue of women serving as officers. Any organization that denies itself the wisdom of 51 percent of the population cannot be as effective an organization as it could be and did not warrant my contribution. But I urged him to solicit me again should the organization revise its policy.
2. A fundraiser called me to contribute to a Jewish high school. I asked to see its curriculum, and on reviewing it, I noticed that, although boys studied Talmud, the girls did not. When I questioned this, the fundraiser replied that only males have the capacity to learn Talmud. As there was no curricular change in the offing, I told this fundraiser I could not contribute to the school, but I encouraged him to call me again should the school decide to teach Talmud to its female students. 
3. A fundraiser asked me to sponsor a number of Hebrew letters – at $18 per letter – being written by a sofer, a scribe, into a Torah scroll. I asked the solicitor if, after the Torah scroll was written, girls and women would be permitted to read from it. He said no. I responded that I could not give money to this project. I explained why and suggested that he call me should he ever be involved in fundraising for a Torah scroll that would be read by girls and women as well.

Passionate about both my feminism and my adherence to Jewish law, I did not feel able to give money to these three organizations. My passions, beliefs, values, and goals involve the empowerment of women and girls in all spheres of life – in their families, workplaces, schools, synagogues, and communities. Because I want my tzedakah to reflect and buttress these values, I choose to support those organizations, institutions, projects, and programs that maximize the potential of Jewish girls and women.

Researching the Organizations That Solicit You

To make these tzedakah decisions, I ask a lot of questions. For example, I explore whether women are represented fairly on both the board and in management and staff positions. I ask for the organization’s letterhead that lists officers, board members, and staff so I can get a sense of women’s representation in the organization.

When considering a donation to a JCC or a Y, I want to know if there are equal resources, time, and access to athletic facilities and team sports for male and female members. For example, if there is a basketball team for boys, is there one for girls as well? Is the women’s locker room the same quality as the men’s? I also look at programming and at how well it targets or includes girls and women.

Regarding personnel issues, I look at how liberal the institution’s maternity leave policy is and whether there are opportunities for flex-time and part-time work. Are women afforded salaries, benefits, and advancement possibilities commensurate with those of men? Where the IRS permits, do women receive parsonage benefits? Is there a written policy on sexual harassment?

READ: Once A Dream, Paid Parental Leave Now A Reality at 100 Jewish Groups — And Counting

In regard to schools, it is not enough for me to know that the students are receiving a Jewish education. I want to know who the teachers are and what exactly they are teaching. Are there good and appropriate role models for girls? Is the curriculum a gender-sensitive one? I review the materials the organization uses in its marketing. Do the images in its publications and online material reinforce stereotypes, such as males as active participants and females as observers – if women are even portrayed at all? Is the language used in the materials inclusive of girls and women? For example, does a brochure use only the pronoun “he,” rather than alternating “he” and “she” or using “she or he?”

The Decision NOT to Give

If I decide not to give based upon a principled reason, I articulate the reason so that the institution will not interpret my refusal to contribute as being due simply to a lack of funds. And when I do give a contribution, I tell the fundraiser why I decided to give. By telling the laypeople and professionals who solicit our tzedakah exactly why we are giving – or not giving – we have an opportunity to possibly bring about change. When we decide to deny a gift and we explain the reasons why, we may not change anything. But by the time the fifth, or fifteenth, or twenty-fifth person declines to give a contribution for the same reason – for example, the organization’s refusal to allow a woman to serve as president –the message will sink in, and the organization may well begin taking a good, hard look at itself and its future survival.

And one need not be a major donor to make a difference.

When any potential donor tells a solicitor she cannot give because of reason a, b, or c, the solicitor does not know how much revenue was potentially lost. Maybe it was a lot of money; maybe a little money. Forward-looking development staff view the donor-donee relationship as a potentially long-term one in which donors are cultivated and encouraged to give larger amounts over time. But if a possible donor says no at the outset, there will no relationship to develop. One person can make a difference. It is incorrect to think that a small donation will not make a difference: every donation makes a difference. And even more effective is having partners in our tzedakah – bringing together friends and family in supporting a cause. There are limitless opportunities to use our voices and our money.

Recently, one of the synagogues I belong to asked me to make a contribution to its adult education program. I agreed to do so, but said I would support only women teachers (only male teachers had been hired thus far for the year). This same synagogue asked me to fund a Shabbat Scholar-In-Residence program. I responded that I would be happy to support women scholars. Here, too, only men had been scheduled to be the Shabbat scholars. After much discussion, both goals were achieved, and the synagogue hired women teachers and scholars, accomplishments that benefited all the congregants and clergy.

Situations do arise, however, that can sorely test our determination to give according to our beliefs. What if a close friend or family member is being honored at a dinner given by an organization whose mission and programming we are uncomfortable with – or which are outright antithetical to our tzedakah desires? What if a close friend or family member asks us to donate to a cause dear to her heart, but far from ours? What if we “owe” someone, and that someone asks us to give to a boys’ yeshiva where the rabbis are teaching its students that it is forbidden for girls to study Talmud?

When such situations occur, I discuss my feeling of discomfort with the friend or family member, and I propose giving the same amount I would have given, but to another organization of her or his choosing that is aligned more closely with my values. But sometimes – though we hope not too often! – we must stray a bit from our tzedakah plan for the sake of a valued relationship. Luckily, though, there are plentiful opportunities for careful, considered strategic giving, whether to schools, synagogues, Jewish community centers, workplaces, advocacy organizations, cultural institutions, or social service projects. And with these opportunities for giving come possibilities for making a difference–and making things different!

Every so often, take a look at your monthly credit card bill and your checkbook entries to review who were the beneficiaries of your tzedakah. Think about these recipients. Do they represent what you believe in? By striving to align our tzedakah with our values and beliefs, we move toward a life of harmony, fulfillment, and satisfaction. The way we give our tzedakah is part and parcel of the way we live our life as Jews. We can both change others and change ourselves by speaking up and anteing up. Giving to what we believe in helps us live consistent and satisfying lives, lives that are true to ourselves. For me, this means I can speak, give, and live truly as an Orthodox feminist Jew.

Continue this conversation on JOFA’s upcoming webinar, “Women and Philanthropy.” Register now!

This article was originally printed in the 2007 JOFA Journal.

One of the more troubling aspects of Tzedakah (charitable giving) is its tendency to be coercive. I often hear people who are turned off by different communal policies of publicizing the names of donors to “encourage” others to give. The practice goes back to the Middle Ages and before. I myself have been disenchanted by these tactics from time to time.

I was once asked to be on the board of a local charitable organization. At the first meeting, we were each handed a binder with informational material. Within the material was one page; the left column had the name of each board member. The next three columns listed in order; address and phone number, last year’s contribution and this years’ recommended contribution.

It was my last board meeting.

The Code of Jewish Law (the Shulchan Arukh) states that “Members of a community may force each other to build a synagogue or to buy a Torah…(Orach Chaim 150:1)

Despite this experience, I would like to reframe this issue in the following way; Is it that the member of our community have the right to force others to contribute or is it that the members of our community have the obligation to force others to contribute to Tzedakah?

We see coercion in many forms:

*Open any bulletin from the organization. How are the donations publicized? How many are anonymous? *Take a walk around the building. How many plaques do you see? How many times is the memory of the Holocaust invoked to motivate giving?
*In my first congregation we prided ourselves on never announcing a donor during the High Holy Day Appeal. We were lucky to raise $10,000 from 200 families. One year the leadership gave the donors the “option” of being identified. We more than doubled the donations.

For me, the bottom line of this Mitzvah is that if the money will directly affect people in need and not go to umbrella organizations with administrative costs and building funds, any form of coercion is allowed. Tzedakah can be a big business. It takes a lot of money to help people in big ways. But there is a difference between Tzedakah and fundraising. Tzedakah is when you take a resource and transfer it to someone else for that person’s benefit. It is a direct transaction. Fundraising is the raising of money for a Tzedakah cause. There is a difference.

You may ask; with so much going on the in world: Donald Trump, secret emails, the Wailing Wall and ISIS that I have chosen to write about Tzedakah? Well, the world has a way of forgetting people who don’t have enough to eat when there are sexier headlines to catch your eye. But a person who is hungry is at least as important an immediate need as anything else in the world.

Judaism and justice go hand in hand. The Jewish value of tzedakah (charity, from the Hebrew word for “justice”) underscores that to “be Jewish” is partly to “do Jewish,” and to “do Jewish” means to give generously. Judaism asks tzedakah not only as charitable acts of support for others, but also as defining acts of identity for ourselves.

But for many, it’s too pricey to “do Jewish,” and focusing only on tzedakah can obscure this reality. This post invites dialogue about the high cost of high-cost Judaism: for the future of hands-on spiritual Judaism, especially for Millennials, the question is essential. I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but the question is too vital to let answers get in the way.

The problem is clear. The economics of ostensibly traditional ways to “do Jewish” – such as high-price kosher foods and high-cost synagogue dues – narrowcasts Judaism toward the affluent, which in turn lifts costs higher. The result is that for many, cost is a practical barrier to doing Jewish, or a psychological barrier to doing Jewish – and either way it’s a serious problem for the inclusivity and continuity of Jewish life. Lamenting socioeconomic privilege and concerned for the future, some are calling for cost controls. Even sharp-penciled economists have joined the discussion.

The Torah portion Vayikra makes the point plainly. In ancient days of sacrifice, forgiveness and purification asked offerings of living assets. As penance for sin and remission of guilt, one first confessed and then offered a lamb from one’s flock (Lev. 5:5-6). But what if one couldn’t afford a lamb?

This question was no mere legalism: it was a question of identity. Because forgiveness and purification must never be distant or delayed, Torah answered this socioeconomic justice challenge by defining how to “do Jewish” in ways that maximized inclusion: “If one’s means do not suffice for a lamb, then “one brings … two turtle doves or two young pigeons” (Lev. 5:7). Presumably birds were cheap and plentiful – but what if even birds were too costly? In that case, Torah had an even more affordable and inclusive option: “If one’s means do not suffice for two turtle doves or two young pigeons,” then some flour would do (Lev. 5:11). Everyone had flour: nobody was left out.

Expressed in the ancient currency of livestock and flour, the lesson is that Jewish life must never exact unaffordable costs. Yes, we must subsidize costs for the less affluent, but Torah goes further: Jewish life must not ask more than is affordable in the first place. A Judaism too expensive to “do Jewish” is a Judaism that betrays core values of inclusivity by definition.

READ: Day Schools Trying to Put New Face on Financial Aid

This spirituality of enough-ness is the Jewish creed. Sufficiency and inclusion were core truths of the ancient altar, and they were core truths of building the Mishkan, ancient perch of the Indwelling Presence we call God. Even for so ornate and detailed a structure as the Mishkan, its materials were what people freely gave (n’div lev) (Exodus 35:5, Exodus 35:22). Architectural plans filled chapters of Torah, but the point was the offering: whatever people gave, it became enough.

A spirituality (and spiritual policymaking) of enough-ness doesn’t devalue plans and means. We mustn’t advocate minimalism or facile spirituality, keenly aware of the needful realities of educating children and paying bills in Jewish spiritual community. It takes money to build spiritual community: ein kemach, ein Torah (“No bread, no Torah”) (Avot 3:21). For this reason, Judaism must never recoil from affluence or press a spirituality of poverty: that path would doom Jewish day schools and shutter synagogues. By the same token, however, neither can Judaism preference affluence or subtly shame anyone with sticker shock.

READ: Four New Jersey Day Schools to Cap Tuition for a Decade

It’s good to subsidize costs: it’s one reason we give tzedakah and reduce costs in case of need. But subsidy isn’t enough: Torah teaches that if costs are too high to start, then there’s a problem with how we define what it is to “do Jewish.” This proposition should be challenging: Judaism’s socioeconomic values of spiritual access and welcome for all should be challenging. If we don’t feel challenged on this issue, then we’re not thinking and feeling deeply enough.

What follows might be challenging for traditional ways to “do Jewish.” If keeping kosher by traditional standards is too expensive – if many people can’t afford four sets of dishes (year-round dairy and meat dishes, Passover dairy and meat dishes) and high mark-ups for kosher-labeled foods – then maybe those traditional standards to keep kosher have gone wrong. If synagogue dues seem to target the affluent, then maybe synagogues standards have gone wrong. Because Torah teaches that an economically burdensome spiritual tradition is dubious on its face, modern Judaism has some soul searching to do.

READ: Day Camp Drama: Why Can’t I Find an Affordable Jewish Program for My Kids?

This soul searching begins not with rejecting tradition but with threading ancient values through economic realities of modern life. It recognizes that to “do Jewish” should be an investment but not an unaffordable one, and that justice asks deep sensitivity to how we make Jewish pathways economically feasible for all. Soul searching also means keeping faith with growers for whom organics and kashrut standards are indeed costly, Jewish teachers who deserve living wages, Jewish day schools that must charge real tuition to stay open and vibrant, and Jewish clergy who make a profession of spiritual service and deserve to support themselves and their families.

READ: Are Voluntary Dues Enough to Get People to Join Synagogues?

Answers are hard and counter-arguments abound. Priorities are important and minimalism doesn’t work. Voluntary synagogue dues might be an important part of the conversation. And yes, tzedakah always must play its part, but history shows – and Torah commands – that tzedakah is not enough. So if you have a say in shaping budgets and costs in Jewish life, or if you have a role in helping others define what it is to “do Jewish,” think hard. Ask whether your choices promote or undermine inclusivity. Ask whether your choices inflate the costs of doing Jewish, and whether that cost is worth the cost of creating a sense of “economic insider” and “economic outsider.” Ask whether the results roll out welcome mats or close doors – especially for Millennials and vulnerable populations like the disabled and disadvantaged. And if you’re not at least somewhat uncomfortable with your answers, think again.

And if you’re resource limited – if vibrantly maximalist ways to “do Jewish” seem costlier than you can afford (“if one’s means do not suffice…”) – then remember that the sacred art of holy meaning-making can start with something small. Even a bit of flour can open a portal into a vibrant Jewish spiritual life – and never let anyone tell you otherwise.

Around Hanukkah this past year, my family decided to start our own giving circle. Sitting around the kitchen table, armed with the Amplifier Giving Circle participant workbook for each member of the family, we began to plan out how we wanted to collectively make a difference. So, a few months later… how are we doing?

This has been a thoughtful and engaging process and for me, a wonderful opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of my children’s ideas and passions.  When we began planning our gifts, we went through the page in the workbook on Jewish philanthropic values and had to answer the basic but vital question: “Why do I give?” It was interesting to me that all three of my children (young adults, now!) marked off the “I want to create justice/equality Tikkun Olam:  Repairing the World” option. Next we discussed “How I Give – locally or globally, to Jews only or to everyone?”  All three responded in the same way:  They wanted to give to organizations supporting people in need or to educational/cultural organizations, not just to Jews.

As we continued through the process and questions, we whittled down the list to three deserving local community organizations. It was a tough decision to decide which of these three will be the first recipient of our family’s giving circle allocation, since all three are such amazing organizations:

Stewpot Community Services, a local organization in Jackson, Mississippi, which  provides thousands of men, women and children with hot meals, groceries, clothing, shelter, childcare, mentoring and other programs to nurture them and help them get back on their feet.  As a family we have participated in our local food drives, created Bar Mitzvah party table centerpieces of books, canned goods and fresh fruit to donate to Stewpot and served meals there on Christmas and Easter. It was a very familiar and personal decision.

Camp Dream Street, MS is a five-day, four-night camping program for children from all backgrounds with physical disabilities and/or related cognitive disabilities. The camp, currently in its 41^st season, is held on the grounds of URJ Henry S. Jacobs Camp in Utica, MS and is sponsored by NFTY’s Southern Region.  Both the campers, who attend free of charge, and the counselors, members of NFTY Southern who attend on a volunteer basis and volunteer one on one or two on one with campers, benefit from the life-changing experiences the camp has to offer. Dream Street is a place where children with physical disabilities are given the chance to be children – not “special” children, not children with disabilities, but just children, for a week of community and joy.

Eric & Marley two years ago…

…Marley & Eric today!

Jackson Friends of the Animal Shelter is a volunteer program at the local Jackson, Mississippi, animal shelter. It is the rescue group through which Eric, our youngest, chose his 13^th birthday/Hanukkah/Bar Mitzvah gift– rescuing his dog Marley, two years ago.  Relying on volunteers to assist with the care of the animals through donations of dog and cat food and volunteer time to play/pet the animals, this group is dedicated to finding permanent homes for these lovable animals.

After the case was made for each of the three outstanding organizations, the ultimate choice made was… Camp Dream Street.

The Schipper Giving Circle is proud of the fact that the money we can share will  help continue to support this program.  It was even more meaningful to see my children work at the camp, serving as program director, upper staff and counselor during the just-completed week of this inspiring camp.  I could not be more proud of them.  Giving of their time and financial support, they continue to make a difference.

The last question I asked them several months ago as we were wrapping up the Pop Up Giving Circle: “Are you willing to do this again next year?”  With smiles on their faces, they agreed.

If you are considering starting your own giving circle, please check out Amplifier’s great resources on getting yours up and running. I hope it will be as meaningful for your family as it is for ours!

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I recently read an article in the New York Times about Charles F. Feeney, whom the headline calls the “James Bond of Philanthropy.” I had never heard of Mr. Feeney previously, but I was so impressed by what I read, that I took some time to learn more about him.

Mr. Feeney, a very wealthy man, had pledged to give his money away while he was still alive. He has donated more than $8 billion to various organizations, leaving him and his wife with only $2 million. While $2 million is a lot more than most people have, it is a tiny fraction of Mr. Feeney’s total accumulated wealth.

In a video I watched about Mr. Feeney, he said “there’s no shortage of people who need help. It’s a market that will always exist.” Sadly, Mr. Feeney is right.

I am struck not only by his generosity, and the intentionality around his giving, but also his anonymity. While he has donated more than $2.7 billion in support of more than 1,000 buildings on five continents, his name does not appear on any of those buildings. For many years, Mr. Feeney preferred anonymity around his charitable giving.

This immediately reminded me of Maimonides’ 8 levels of tzedakah. While the root of the word tzedakah means “justice” or “righteousness,” it is often translated as “charity.” Maimonides essentially created a ladder of charitable giving. The lowest level of philanthropy is giving donations grudgingly; the next is giving cheerfully though the amount is less than one should give; the next is giving to those in need when asked; even higher is giving those in need without being asked; the next higher level is giving when the recipient knows who the donor is, even though the donor doesn’t know who the recipient is; next is donations when the donor is aware of the recipient but the recipient is not aware of the donor; next is giving assistance without the donor or recipient knowing who the other person is; and the highest level is helping to sustain a person by such means as offering them a loan or employment.

I am temporarily living in my Grandma Gertrude (pictured above)’s house. So my kitchen is actually, my grandma’s kitchen.

She didn’t really like to cook. She did bake though: rich sticky brownies topped with marshmallows, enormous chocolate chip cookies with nuts and raisins, good neighbor cakes. She was a big feminist, my grandma, and we would sit around the table in that kitchen and she would tell me to study, to do what I want, to not let my gender stop me from achieving things in life.

I wonder if she felt stuck in her kitchen?

In the western world, where my grandma was born and lived and died, the kitchen once symbolized (and often still symbolizes) the disempowerment of women. In the 1970s feminists saw the kitchen as a place in the private sphere that deals with such ‘mundane’ things as sustenance and nourishment. They challenged women to leave so that they could gain power outside the home.

Today in the United States, where Grandma Gertrude lived, the feminist agenda has moved beyond the kitchen. But in the eastern world, where my other grandmother, ‘Grandma Zilpah’ was from, the kitchen is still a place where many women find themselves, a place that challenges them to ask questions about their roles, their power and their relationship with their families and communities. What is this kitchen all about?

To answer this question, I refer to one of my favorite ‘Eastern’ books, the Babylonian Talmud. In Tractate Ketubot we meet Mar Ukba and his wife. Mar Ukba has a daily ritual of throwing 4 coins in the doorway of a poor man who lives in his community. He always gives to this man anonymously. One day right after Mar Ukba and his wife had given their daily tzedakah, the poor man opens the door and begins to pursue the two, eager to see who so generously gives him money each day. Mar Ukba, determined to give tzedakah anonymously runs home with his wife and together they hide inside of their oven, so as not to be discovered by the poor man. Inside the oven, Mar Ukba’s feet burn. His wife’s feet, miraculously, do not.

Keshet is pretty excited about
The Guys Next Door
, a feature-length documentary that tells the story of Erik and Sandro, a gay couple with two daughters birthed by their friend Rachel. (Check out the trailer below!)

We had the chance to chat with Amy Geller, who is co-producing and directing the film along with Allie Humenuk. Amy, who was the Artistic Director of the Boston Jewish Film Festival from 2012-2014, came across Erik, Sandro, and Rachel’s story through an alumni connection at her college, and was inspired to share their experiences.

Amy and Allie spent three and a half years filming The Guys Next Door—which includes, as Amy puts it, “the ultimate act of
tzedakah
.” Rachel, who is in her 40s and married to her husband Tony, has three biological children of her own. According to Amy, “by helping her gay friends to have daughters, Rachel makes a deeply personal decision that has political implications. With the support of Tony and their children, she affirms gay rights and same-sex parenting.”

Rachel shared how her Jewish faith inspired her to act as a surrogate for Erik and Sandro:

I am Jewish and my parents raised me to believe in equality and giving to others in whatever ways we can. As a mother now, it is important for me to continue living the foundation of those (Jewish) values, and teach them to my children. My experience in helping my good friends, Erik and Sandro, be able to have children, symbolizes to me the notion of Tikkun Olam—my little part in helping heal the world. It struck me as incredibly unfair that my husband and I could so easily have children, and that for two gay men to have children would be such a hardship, particularly financial. I believe that being able to help them have their daughters not only benefits them, but also benefits my family, and really, benefits the world around us. My hope is that it helps people see that family can look like many different and wonderful things, and how two gay men, given the opportunity, can create a beautiful home filled with love and strong values, just as well as a heterosexual couple can.

We can’t wait to see the film when it’s finished! If you’re inspired by Erik and Sandro’s love—or Rachel’s act of tzedakah—you can help support the film through its Kickstarter campaign.

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The post The Ultimate Tzedakah: Being a Surrogate Mother appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

I recently read an article in the New York Times about Charles F. Feeney, whom the headline calls the “James Bond of Philanthropy.” I had never heard of Mr. Feeney previously, but I was so impressed by what I read, that I took some time to learn more about him.

Mr. Feeney, a very wealthy man, had pledged to give his money away while he was still alive. He has donated more than $8 billion to various organizations, leaving him and his wife with only $2 million. While $2 million is a lot more than most people have, it is a tiny fraction of Mr. Feeney’s total accumulated wealth.

In a video I watched about Mr. Feeney, he said “there’s no shortage of people who need help. It’s a market that will always exist.” Sadly, Mr. Feeney is right.

I am struck not only by his generosity, and the intentionality around his giving, but also his anonymity. While he has donated more than $2.7 billion in support of more than 1,000 buildings on five continents, his name does not appear on any of those buildings. For many years, Mr. Feeney preferred anonymity around his charitable giving.

This immediately reminded me of Maimonides’ 8 levels of tzedakah. While the root of the word tzedakah means “justice” or “righteousness,” it is often translated as “charity.” Maimonides essentially created a ladder of charitable giving. The lowest level of philanthropy is giving donations grudgingly; the next is giving cheerfully though the amount is less than one should give; the next is giving to those in need when asked; even higher is giving those in need without being asked; the next higher level is giving when the recipient knows who the donor is, even though the donor doesn’t know who the recipient is; next is donations when the donor is aware of the recipient but the recipient is not aware of the donor; next is giving assistance without the donor or recipient knowing who the other person is; and the highest level is helping to sustain a person by such means as offering them a loan or employment.

In this hierarchy, it is very clear that giving anonymously is more highly valued. Mr. Feeney certainly did this for a long time with his philanthropy. It had multiple benefits. In some cases it meant that the naming rights of a building could go to someone else who would make a gift and cared more about his name. But, the other benefit was just that Mr. Feeney was truly selfless in his giving – that he wanted to create a better world for others, and it was not about personal gain for him.

I am impressed by Mr. Feeney. And while most of us will never have anywhere near the amount of wealth that he did, we may still be able to learn something from his philanthropic role modeling. And from Maimonides as well.

The post Philanthropist Charles Feeney, Maimonides and Anonymous Giving appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

On my 7th birthday, I got a Tropical Barbie Doll. You know the one where the swimsuit changed colors in the water? My mom and I lived in a not-so-great place, in a not-so-great area in North Carolina. A few months before, my mom sold our car to pay bills. Now her only transportation was a bike. I remember my mom hopping on it going to the nearest store, (a 7-11) and bringing back my gift. I loved the heck out of that doll and spent hours getting her wet, watching the swimsuit change while drying off then repeat.

This birthday stands out amongst the several throughout the years. My birthdays were never really parties, cakes or piles of gifts. We didn’t have money for that. I never knew how bad it was until I was older and realized how other families celebrated.

Fast forward 30 plus years and I am now the mother of two girls born 10 years and 24 days apart in the same month, October. We celebrate with family trips to water parks, Disney or resorts. My daughters would never question if they would be able to celebrate their birthdays. Instead, it’s always been, what will we do this year?

When my oldest daughter turned 11, we realized that not only did we need to start planning her bat mitzvah but also her service project. We didn’t have a clue what we would do. My husband and I wanted her to engage in a Mitzvah Project that was long term and involved helping others. So, we researched and found The Birthday Giving Project.

The Birthday Giving Project is all about kids helping kids have an amazing birthday. Jordy would create “Party in a bag”: for underprivileged kids. Each bag contained a book, a toy, cake mix, frosting, and candles. I thought, “ok this is great,” but I recalled being one of those kids that got the “charity bag” for the holidays. I remember excitedly opening the gift and finding a dusty puzzle, or a book on cars. I would smile and say “Thank you,” but inside I was cringing. I could always tell it was an item that someone had lying around and just threw it together. The adults expected me to be grateful and thank them for their generous gift. I hated that feeling, and I didn’t want any kid to feel as I did.

Using those memories as inspiration, Jordy and I took it one step further. We asked Family to Family to link us up with a local organization, the Boys and Girls Club. They agreed to email us five children’s likes, hobbies, music choices, interests, etc. every month until Jordy’s bat mitzvah (15 months away). We would create personalized birthday bags for them and drop. It didn’t matter what the child was into, we would make it happen. Beatles? Pokémon? Baking? Knitting? One Direction? No problem.

We spread the word about our project, and friends and family donated gift cards, cake mix, and frosting. Eventually, our temple got involved and for Mitzvah Day 2016 we created an additional 50 personalized bags. Altogether with Jordy’s project and Mitzvah Day, we gave out over 120 bags! We created a banner, gluing every thank-you card and hung it up during Jordan’s service. The best part was reading the cards from the kids. They were in awe that strangers cared about what they liked and wanted. The project was a success.

I am happy to say that we are doing the Birthday Project again for Mitzvah Day May 7th, 2017. This time our goal is 100 bags. The recipients will be children from a local school where 80 percent of the student population lives below the poverty line. It’s a tall order, but I know our community will pull together and make it happen. Upon learning about our project, a temple member said, “Maybe by doing this we are giving children hope. Hope that they can have a bright future. By giving something that they want, we are planting seeds in the next generation to continue the good works, the mitzvot.”

I like that idea. I imagine in 20 years a reading about a scientist that has discovered THE cure. Maybe she will talk about as a child she received birthday bag from the community and it contained a chemistry set. How this ignited her passion for science and inspired her to change the world. I know this may be far-fetched…. but I kind of like the idea, don’t you?

The post Memories of Birthday Past Inspire Giving to Others appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

There’s a new TV show out called “Adam Ruins Everything,” where comedian Adam Conover shares everything that’s factually incorrect — and even harmful — about topics like security, cars and food. The first episode is entitled “Adam Ruins Giving,” and in it, he talks about why canned food drives are a terrible idea, why Tom’s Shoes is not so generous, and why  you shouldn’t give blood immediately after a disaster.

Why? Because, as he says, many of the ways we give aren’t about the people we are trying to help — they are designed simply to make us feel good.

Yes, when we give, we do feel a nice, warm glow. But unlike the Christian concept of “charity,” which comes from the word “caring,” Judaism talks about tzedakah, which is about justice. Making a donation shouldn’t be about making ourselves feel good — it should be about making the world better.

That’s why there’s an emerging movement called “Effective Altruism,” with two new books on how we can do the most good. My former professor, Peter Singer, just wrote The Most Good You Can Do, and Will MacAskill has written Doing Good Better.

Both authors argue that when we give, we shouldn’t be focused on an emotional attachment to a cause. Instead, we should use reason and evidence to determine where we donate our money. As Singer says,

Effective altruists will feel the pull of helping an identifiable child form their own nation, region, or ethnic group but will then ask themselves if that is the best thing to do. They know that saving a life is better than making a wish come true and that saving three lives is better than saving one. So they don’t give to whatever cause tugs most strongly at their heartstrings. They give to the cause that will do the most good, given the abilities, time, and money they have available. (p. 6-7)

On one level, there’s something very powerful about effective altruism. We have limited resources, so we do need to ask, “How can we do the most good with the money we have?” Yet there’s also something about it that leaves me a little cold.

Perhaps that’s because as humans, we are not purely rational creatures. We respond to emotion, and consciously or not, that’s often what drives our giving. But when we do aim to be more aware of the potential impact of our donations, and use reason rather than emotion to make our decisions, then we will ultimately make more our world more just.

So what do we do? How do we balance reason and emotion when it comes to giving?

The truth is, we often conflate two related but distinct Jewish values  when it comes to giving. So if we can make the differentiation, we can more easily embrace effective altruism.

One value is tikkun olam — the repair of the world. It has become one of the most common values espoused, especially in many liberal Jewish circles. The problem is that tikkun olam has become everything from food drives to donation appeals to advocacy letters. And when we stop to think about it, not every good deed makes a huge impact on the world.

Yet every good deed is something positive, and it does help a small group of people. So rather than saying every small good deed is “an act of tikkun olam,” we need to reclaim the language of small, intimate acts that influence those closest to us. We should instead call these actions “acts of g’milut chasadim, loving kindness.”

Will donating winter clothes going to change the world by itself? Of course not. But it is going to influence both the donor and the recipient. It will lead us to view ourselves as a giving person, and should inspire us to do more. And it will help that one person get through those February snowstorms a little more easily.

But if we are aiming to truly change the world, then we do need to think more broadly and more rationally. We need to ask, “How much good can my money do?” Yes, if we send $36 to Against Malaria, we may never see the pictures of the people we are helping or feel that warm glow. But that $36 can provide 12 bednets and protect 21 people from malaria for three years.

So as we give, yes, we should feel good about our donations. But when it comes time to donate our hard-earned money, let’s at least pause and think about whether we are donating to make ourselves feel good, or to do good…and then to do it in the most effective way possible.

The post How Can We Do the Most Good? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Thanksgiving 2015: We had a full house down here in Jackson, Mississippi, with all of our kids home for the holiday.  It was wonderful to spend quality time talking about college, internships, school and all of the activities everyone’s engaged in these days. And of course, we talked about the next holiday around the corner: Hanukkah.

As we have done since they were little kids, we asked our children to write down their Hanukkah wish lists. They won’t get everything on their list – but they will get something they really want. (When your kids are ages 22, 18 and 14, the wish list is very different from those long-ago days of wishes for dolls, toy cars and Legos. Now the list includes gadgets, clothes, and money to save for really big ticket items – car payment, anyone?)

For years, I have been thinking about starting a family tradition that for one reason or another, I never got off the ground. When the kids were younger, instead of a gift for one night of Hanukkah, I wanted to give them money for tzedakah and have each child make a donation to a charity of his/her choice – something similar to the Fifth Night project. But now, my kids are older, and already make donations on their own. So I thought we could tweak the Fifth Night project. Having recently participated in Natan’s Amplifier Giving Circle workshop, I decided we would create a family giving circle! I reviewed my notes and decided we would use the “pop-up circle” model, which is a 90-minute version of the entire giving circle experience. Armed with the pop-up circle instructions, the Slingshot ’14-’15 guide, and information from local nonprofits, I was ready. We were going to start discussing where we wanted to pool our resources to make a difference!

Only, we didn’t get started.

The long weekend went by far too quickly. Between the arrival of the last family member Thanksgiving day at noon – the eating, visiting, cleaning up, football, followed by a bit of shopping and Shabbat services on Friday, sleep-in day Saturday, and study time (why would you schedule an exam the Monday after Thanksgiving?), the kids spending some time with friends — in a blink, it was over. All of a sudden it was Sunday morning, and my older two are getting ready for their drives back.

So in our final visit around the table as a family, I talked to them about my hopes and dreams for a family giving circle. I asked them to begin thinking about the organizations that they know (or want to research) that do good work. During Hanukkah,  we will create our giving circle. We are committed to it!

It’s so easy to get overwhelmed during this stressful time of year, Thanksgiving to January, which always includes travel, gift giving, finals, deadlines, and on and on. But let’s not get overwhelmed today.

Today is Giving Tuesday, which is why it felt like the perfect time to share step one in my family’s giving circle journey. Giving Tuesday emerged as a day for philanthropy amidst all of the other flurry this time of year, as their website explains: “We have a day for giving thanks. We have two for getting deals. Now, we have #GivingTuesday, a global day dedicated to giving back.” It’s a nice reminder, and a good way to kick off the “stressful” month of December: Let’s think of others, give generously, and be thankful for all that we have. And later this month, I’ll share the details of our family giving circle. Stay tuned.

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The post Giving Gelt: Starting A Family Giving Circle This Season (Part 1) appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

People want our tzedakah dollars. We are all deluged by solicitations, whether through phone calls, online requests, mailed letters, or even directly by sh’lichim, supplicants, on our doorsteps. At celebrations, conferences, lectures, and other public events, we are solicited – sometimes almost tackled – by friends, acquaintances, family members, and even people we do not know.

What should we do?

Giving away money responsibly is not so easy. Although there are thousands of books and articles about how to make money and how to invest it, there are few about how to give money away. How do we know where to direct our charitable dollars, our tzedakah? How should we determine which of the many institutions, agencies, projects, and organizations that solicit us are worthy of our contributions, large or small?

We can begin this process by examining our values and determining our vision of the ideal world. What are we passionate about? What are our cherished beliefs and hopes? We should then make our tzedakah decisions based on these values and beliefs. We all give tzedakah both because we want to and because we are obligated to give. No matter how much or how little we have, Jewish law dictates that we give 10 percent of our income as ma’aser, a tithe. But we have the freedom to choose the recipients of our tzedakah.

My own values involve maximizing the potential of Jewish girls and women. I believe that women and girls should be afforded increased opportunities to engage in Jewish ritual, to have equal access to leadership positions, and to have unlimited opportunities to acquire knowledge. The following three situations exemplify my own decision-making process.

1. A fundraiser for a large and old Jewish organization asked me for a contribution. Knowing there were no women officers in this organization, I asked him why this was the case. He answered that when the organization was formed more than 100 years ago, it was written into its constitution that women were not allowed to serve as officers. I responded that the Constitution of the United States allowed slavery and denied women the vote, but that we have since amended it. So, why not amend his organization’s constitution? He replied that women could not serve as officers for halakhic reasons, and one does not change halakha. To this I responded as follows: There are differing halakhic opinions on the issue of women serving as officers. Any organization that denies itself the wisdom of 51 percent of the population cannot be as effective an organization as it could be and did not warrant my contribution. But I urged him to solicit me again should the organization revise its policy.
2. A fundraiser called me to contribute to a Jewish high school. I asked to see its curriculum, and on reviewing it, I noticed that, although boys studied Talmud, the girls did not. When I questioned this, the fundraiser replied that only males have the capacity to learn Talmud. As there was no curricular change in the offing, I told this fundraiser I could not contribute to the school, but I encouraged him to call me again should the school decide to teach Talmud to its female students. 
3. A fundraiser asked me to sponsor a number of Hebrew letters – at $18 per letter – being written by a sofer, a scribe, into a Torah scroll. I asked the solicitor if, after the Torah scroll was written, girls and women would be permitted to read from it. He said no. I responded that I could not give money to this project. I explained why and suggested that he call me should he ever be involved in fundraising for a Torah scroll that would be read by girls and women as well.

Passionate about both my feminism and my adherence to Jewish law, I did not feel able to give money to these three organizations. My passions, beliefs, values, and goals involve the empowerment of women and girls in all spheres of life – in their families, workplaces, schools, synagogues, and communities. Because I want my tzedakah to reflect and buttress these values, I choose to support those organizations, institutions, projects, and programs that maximize the potential of Jewish girls and women.

Researching the Organizations That Solicit You

To make these tzedakah decisions, I ask a lot of questions. For example, I explore whether women are represented fairly on both the board and in management and staff positions. I ask for the organization’s letterhead that lists officers, board members, and staff so I can get a sense of women’s representation in the organization.

When considering a donation to a JCC or a Y, I want to know if there are equal resources, time, and access to athletic facilities and team sports for male and female members. For example, if there is a basketball team for boys, is there one for girls as well? Is the women’s locker room the same quality as the men’s? I also look at programming and at how well it targets or includes girls and women.

Regarding personnel issues, I look at how liberal the institution’s maternity leave policy is and whether there are opportunities for flex-time and part-time work. Are women afforded salaries, benefits, and advancement possibilities commensurate with those of men? Where the IRS permits, do women receive parsonage benefits? Is there a written policy on sexual harassment?

READ: Once A Dream, Paid Parental Leave Now A Reality at 100 Jewish Groups — And Counting

In regard to schools, it is not enough for me to know that the students are receiving a Jewish education. I want to know who the teachers are and what exactly they are teaching. Are there good and appropriate role models for girls? Is the curriculum a gender-sensitive one? I review the materials the organization uses in its marketing. Do the images in its publications and online material reinforce stereotypes, such as males as active participants and females as observers – if women are even portrayed at all? Is the language used in the materials inclusive of girls and women? For example, does a brochure use only the pronoun “he,” rather than alternating “he” and “she” or using “she or he?”

The Decision NOT to Give

If I decide not to give based upon a principled reason, I articulate the reason so that the institution will not interpret my refusal to contribute as being due simply to a lack of funds. And when I do give a contribution, I tell the fundraiser why I decided to give. By telling the laypeople and professionals who solicit our tzedakah exactly why we are giving – or not giving – we have an opportunity to possibly bring about change. When we decide to deny a gift and we explain the reasons why, we may not change anything. But by the time the fifth, or fifteenth, or twenty-fifth person declines to give a contribution for the same reason – for example, the organization’s refusal to allow a woman to serve as president –the message will sink in, and the organization may well begin taking a good, hard look at itself and its future survival.

And one need not be a major donor to make a difference.

When any potential donor tells a solicitor she cannot give because of reason a, b, or c, the solicitor does not know how much revenue was potentially lost. Maybe it was a lot of money; maybe a little money. Forward-looking development staff view the donor-donee relationship as a potentially long-term one in which donors are cultivated and encouraged to give larger amounts over time. But if a possible donor says no at the outset, there will no relationship to develop. One person can make a difference. It is incorrect to think that a small donation will not make a difference: every donation makes a difference. And even more effective is having partners in our tzedakah – bringing together friends and family in supporting a cause. There are limitless opportunities to use our voices and our money.

Recently, one of the synagogues I belong to asked me to make a contribution to its adult education program. I agreed to do so, but said I would support only women teachers (only male teachers had been hired thus far for the year). This same synagogue asked me to fund a Shabbat Scholar-In-Residence program. I responded that I would be happy to support women scholars. Here, too, only men had been scheduled to be the Shabbat scholars. After much discussion, both goals were achieved, and the synagogue hired women teachers and scholars, accomplishments that benefited all the congregants and clergy.

Situations do arise, however, that can sorely test our determination to give according to our beliefs. What if a close friend or family member is being honored at a dinner given by an organization whose mission and programming we are uncomfortable with – or which are outright antithetical to our tzedakah desires? What if a close friend or family member asks us to donate to a cause dear to her heart, but far from ours? What if we “owe” someone, and that someone asks us to give to a boys’ yeshiva where the rabbis are teaching its students that it is forbidden for girls to study Talmud?

When such situations occur, I discuss my feeling of discomfort with the friend or family member, and I propose giving the same amount I would have given, but to another organization of her or his choosing that is aligned more closely with my values. But sometimes – though we hope not too often! – we must stray a bit from our tzedakah plan for the sake of a valued relationship. Luckily, though, there are plentiful opportunities for careful, considered strategic giving, whether to schools, synagogues, Jewish community centers, workplaces, advocacy organizations, cultural institutions, or social service projects. And with these opportunities for giving come possibilities for making a difference–and making things different!

Every so often, take a look at your monthly credit card bill and your checkbook entries to review who were the beneficiaries of your tzedakah. Think about these recipients. Do they represent what you believe in? By striving to align our tzedakah with our values and beliefs, we move toward a life of harmony, fulfillment, and satisfaction. The way we give our tzedakah is part and parcel of the way we live our life as Jews. We can both change others and change ourselves by speaking up and anteing up. Giving to what we believe in helps us live consistent and satisfying lives, lives that are true to ourselves. For me, this means I can speak, give, and live truly as an Orthodox feminist Jew.

Continue this conversation on JOFA’s upcoming webinar, “Women and Philanthropy.” Register now!

This article was originally printed in the 2007 JOFA Journal.

The post Do Your Tzedakah Priorities Reflect Your Values? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.