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.

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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.

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

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.

The post Forget Me Not appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

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.

The post “If One’s Means Do Not Suffice”: Confronting the High Price of Doing Jewish appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

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.

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.

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?

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It was mid-summer, and the figs on the two fig trees in our yard were starting to ripen.

Finding two healthy fig trees on our property was an unexpected bonus when we moved from California to North Florida. I love trees [my specialized license plate reads “Trees Are Cool”], and especially fruit trees. So finding the two producing fig trees at our new home was one of the many benefits of moving to this area.

One morning our first summer here, as I was pouring my coffee, I looked out the kitchen window and saw a beautiful yellow and red bird, about the size of a sparrow, in one of the fig trees, hungrily pecking away at a big ripe fig. I stood there quietly, watching the bird enjoy the fig. Was she a mother, looking to feed a newly-hatched brood of hungry chicks? Or was she just enjoying food herself?

One of the reasons we left California and moved to a small town in the Florida Panhandle was to find a quieter, slower pace of life. Being able to watch this bird enjoying a fig was representative of our new peaceful lifestyle: a bit of undisturbed nature, sharing a moment, right in our own backyard.

Then it struck me: We were handed a blessing of these two fruit trees, which I did not plant – they were just here – a creation of God. So, if God provided us these trees, who am I to deny sharing the fruit of these trees with the birds? Was God not providing for them, as well as for us?

This got me thinking about the gleanings, and the leaving a portion of your field unharvested as a form of tzedakah so the poor can gather the surplus crops.

The well-known requirement to not completely harvest your fields and leave the gleanings of the field for the poor is found in Leviticus 23:22, part of what is sometimes called the “Holiness Code”:

And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I the LORD am your God.

 There is a similar injunction regarding vineyards:

“You shall not pick your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen fruit of your vineyard. ”(Leviticus 19:10).

Centuries ago, when societies were primarily agrarian, this requirement had widespread application. Most people grew their own food, shared the surplus with family members and neighbors, or took the surplus to a market for sale or trade.  But what is the application of this requirement in modern Jewish society?

Few of us are commercial farmers, and except for maybe a backyard vegetable garden, very few of us actually grow our own food. In our modern urbanized society, food is purchased at the supermarket, or we eat at a restaurant.

Our trees produce plenty of figs, for us and for the birds. I pick a bunch for myself, mostly from the lower branches, and leave many more for our avian friends. For me, this is nothing more than respecting nature. Unlike humans, animals in the wild cannot just go to the supermarket and stock up on a week’s supply of food. They have to find their own sources of food everyday, or go hungry. So who am I to decide whether a bird should not be able to enjoy the figs with me?

The commandment to leave a portion of your fields unharvested and the gleanings for the poor was clearly meant as a form of tzedakah for people. But what about gleanings for animals?

As Jews, we are required to treat animals as kindly as possible. This includes resting working animals on Shabbat [Exodus 20:8], and ritual slaughter of animals so as to inflict the least amount of pain [“shechita”]. It’s also forbidden to take eggs or baby birds from a nest in the presence of the mother bird [Deuteronomy 22:6].

I am not a farmer. We buy our food at the supermarket each week. We do not depend on the figs for our livelihood, or survival.

So I leave the fig trees uncovered, and let the birds feast on their share of the bounty. I am not upset when I see the many partially-eaten figs on the trees – these are the “edges” of my “field” that I am sharing with the birds, whose sweet songs and beauty enrich our lives. It’s part of my way of fulfilling mitzvot, of gleaning, of respecting animals; a simple way to honor ancient traditions, adapted for my modern Southern Jewish life.

The post Here’s Why Half-Eaten Figs Make Me Smile appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

This week, the Amazon Kindle version of Jewish Ethics & Social Justice is only $1.99!

In Jewish law, we are told that it is unjust to be biased and be swayed by poverty, to favor the case of the poor over the rich in a dispute. Within the realm of a formal court’s judgment this is crucial (Exodus 23: 3, 6). However, does this notion still apply today, where the disparity of wealth between the poor and the rich has become so large that the poor often can no longer properly advocate for themselves?

This notion of equality before the law is mostly a fallacy today in America, since the poor have such a serious disadvantage in the courtroom. The New York Times reported that more than 90% of criminal cases are never tried before a jury; most people charged with crimes just plead guilty, forfeiting their constitutional rights. The prosecution usually promises to give a deal to those who plead guilty and go all-out against anyone who tries to go to trial. It is simply cheaper to plead guilty than to try to pay for legal counsel.

Every individual should have the same fair opportunity before the law, because we must be committed to truth and justice. But this is not the reality today. Even if it were true, Judaism teaches that we must go over and above the law (lifnim mishurat hadin) to support those more vulnerable (Bava Metzia 83a). Furthermore, we learn that G-d created and destroyed many worlds that were built upon the foundation of din (judgment), and then G-d finally created this world built upon rachamim (mercy) (Rashi to Genesis 1:1). Our world can’t exist on pure judgment, rather, as fallible beings we rely upon the grace, empathy, and kindness of G-d and man.

We must be moved toward mercy for those who are suffering, and this must affect how we build society. President Obama explained the importance of empathy in jurisprudence when choosing Supreme Court justices: “I will seek someone who understands that justice isn’t about some abstract legal theory or footnote in a casebook; it is also about how our laws affect the daily realities of people’s lives. I view the quality of empathy, of understanding and identifying with people’s hopes and struggles as an essential ingredient for arriving at just decisions and outcomes.” Law is not only about principle, it is also about life.

This is all the more true outside of the courtroom. Within the realm of Jewish grassroots activism, we learn that our primary responsibility is not equality, but to prioritize our support for the vulnerable.

Numerous Jewish teachings remind us that our primary responsibility is to protect and prioritize the most vulnerable individuals and parties: “G-d takes the side of the aggrieved and the victim” (Ecclesiastes 3:15). When there is conflict, G-d simply cannot withhold support for the one suffering.

Rav Ahron Soloveichik writes: “A Jew should always identify with the cause of defending
the aggrieved, whosoever the aggrieved may be, just as the concept of tzedek is to be applied uniformly to all humans regardless of race or creed” (Logic of the Heart, Logic of the Mind, 67).

This is what it means to be Jewish, to prioritize the suffering in conflict.

This point is made time and time again by the rabbis. The Talmud, based on the verse “justice, justice, you shall pursue” (Deuteronomy 16:20), teaches that the disadvantaged should be given preference when all else is equal. The Rambam teaches that even if the disadvantaged arrive later than other people, they should be given precedence (Sanhedrin 21:6, Shulhan Arukh CM 15:2).

Thus, in a court of law, all parties are ideally treated equally, as we are guided by the Jewish value of din (judgment); today, however, justice does not prevail. Further, in activism we must favor the vulnerable, since we are guided by the Jewish value of chesed (empathy, loving kindness). In life, we must learn to balance all of our values: love, justice, mercy, etc. In justice, we do not just choose one guiding principle: As Isaiah Berlin teaches, moral life consists of embracing a plurality of values.

We must always be absolutely committed to the truth and be sure that our justice system is fair for all parties. Yet we also, as changemakers, have a special and holy role to give voice to the voiceless and to support the unsupported in society. This is the role of Jewish activism. The rabbis teach that “Even if a righteous person attacks a wicked person, G-d still sides with the victim” (Yalkut Shimoni). All people deserve our love and care but we must follow the path of G-d and make our allegiances clear: with the destitute, oppressed, alienated, and suffering.

The post Do We Prioritize the Vulnerable in Justice? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

I think that it would be wrong to let the day go by without saying something about the election. But I don’t really want to talk about the candidates or their platforms, or what they should have done differently or better, or why this one won or lost. Instead, since a lot of the struggle was over how our government should spend its money, I think it would be worthwhile to ask what kinds of competing economic visions we have for our country, and what Judaism might say about them.

In very general terms, one group has concentrated on the idea of person

al responsibility – that each of us ought to be able to stand on our own two feet and not depend upon others, and that if someone works hard enough, they will succeed; the other group, also in very general terms, considers the government to be the external structure for community, and (sometimes) tries to implement programs that will serve to strengthen individuals who are having trouble helping themselves and to create safety nets for them and considers  success to often be a matter of luck.

Both of these approaches are valued in Judaism. Our sages tell us unequivocally that “just as shabbat is a covenant, so is work a covenant” (Avot d’Rabbi Natan).  And Maimonides criticizes strongly someone who chooses not to work, instead taking charity, even “anyone who decides to study Torah and not work, making his living from charity, desecrates Gods name and disgraces the Torah. Any Torah that is not accompanied by work will lead to its own undoing and cause sin.” In other words, supporting oneself and one’s family is very important, and work is not simply a means for support, but in itself can be a holy task.

At the same time, Judaism also unequivocally states that we are obligated to care for others who have less than we do.  Our sages have told us – in numerous and varied places- that we have an obligation to support the poor. Unlike the root of the word “charity” (from “caritas”)  tzedakah is not given because one is moved to give, but – as with so many things in Judaism- because we are commanded to give, and we have an obligation to do so. The word itself comes from the word “tzedek” – justice.

It is unfair to label either of the groups “coldhearted,” or “irresponsible,” as I have seen some do: there is plenty of charitable individual giving from the “personal responsibility” group. Nevertheless, Judaism is fairly clear that it doesn’t see individual giving as a sufficient (although it is a necessary) response to poverty. This is for two reasons. First, the tendency to see one’s wealth as something that one has earned out of one’s own sweat, and with no help from others is noted by the Torah itself:

11. Beware that you do not forget the Lord, your God, by not keeping His commandments, His ordinances, and His statutes, which I command you this day
12. lest you eat and be sated, and build good houses and dwell therein
13. and your herds and your flocks multiply, and your silver and gold increase, and all that you have increases
14. and your heart grows haughty, and you forget the Lord, your God, Who has brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage…

17. and you will say to yourself, “My strength and the might of my hand that has accumulated this wealth for me.” (Deut. 8: 11-14,17)

Rather, the Jewish tradition sees all the things of the earth as belonging to God, and we -however wealthy we are- are merely caretakers and distributors. There is a recognition that, indeed, a great deal of what we have is got of good fortune, or God’s grace, and not of   “the strength of my hands.” It is too easy to forget that what you have isn’t really yours to do with as you will, and be mean with it.

That is why, in Judaism, we are not simply able to give when we are moved to do so, but are obligated, both regularly, and at specific additional times – during holidays, for example, Purim, for which one of the special commandments of the holiday itself is giving to the poor.

Just as a brief aside, let us contrast that with the secular dress-up holiday, for which the custom is to go around demanding handouts – a sort of parody of the very thing that is feared by those in the “personal responsibility” group. Yet, while this may be a bit of a parody of that position, we shouldn’t be in too much haste to ignore it. The difference between one holiday and the other is one which is reflected in the general culture. Purim asks us to each take responsibility for caring for others, while Halloween has individuals demanding their “rights.”

Yet, in Judaism, there isn’t actually anything wrong with individuals asking for help, for charity (indeed, we have a rich folk culture and lots of very funny stories based on the idea of aggressive beggars). And we, as Jews, are required to help them.

In fact, not only are we required to give to the poor as individuals, but we are obligated to set up what are essentially governmental bodies in every community, to ensure that there is sufficient to care for the poor and the stranger. And, in fact,  individuals can be coerced to contribute to these bodies if they aren’t giving according to community standards and to how much that person was assessed on the basis of their wealth (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Matanat Oniyim, chapter 9, halakhot 1-3; halakhah 12; SA, Yoreh Deah, Section 248:1-2).  And shall we top that off? A Torah scholar is not permitted to live in a town that hasn’t got such a tax authority (Talmud, Sanhedrin 17b).

While Judaism can’t be said to support one particular party or another, or any of their platforms as a whole, it must be said that in balancing personal responsibility and caregiving, Judaism comes down on the side of requiring communities to support the poor, not on the basis of individual impulse, but as an organized and compulsory, regulated support system.

The “caregivers” group are often derided by the “personal responsibility” group as naive or profligate. And Jewish tradition does understand that one takes care of one’s inner circle first, before caring for others. But this is precisely why a system – such as the badly maligned “welfare” system- is necessary. When a community contributes,  together, there is both the benefit of pooling funds to be able to do bigger projects and support more people when necessary, as well as the pressure of communal requirement – I don’t believe that tax cheats are flogged these days (as Jewish law permits for those who don’t contribute adequately), but simply having the money taken from one’s paycheck ensures that all are able to assist the community (even the very poorest are required to give tzedakah – even if the have to give it from their own tzedakah! Why? because we are all obligated in caring for all the members of our community) and by this we can be reminded that we are all, indeed, one community.

When we make sure that the needy are supported from communal coffers, we are not thumbing our nose at personal responsibility – to the contrary, we are enabling it for all.

The post Caregiving or Responsibility? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

The Rabbis teach (Ta’anit 11a) that “at a time when the community is suffering, no one should say, ‘I will go home, eat, drink, and be at peace with myself.'” To effectively aid those who are suffering, we need the cooperation and collaboration of each and every individual. We need strong individuals, effective non-profits, and committed states. However, we also need to recognize the most powerful collective body available to address the suffering. In our society, the mechanism that represents the people is the government, and it must be effective. Government does not always have to be big to be effective, but oftentimes it does, especially when responding to disasters on a large scale.

Hurricane Sandy, which struck the east coast in October 2012, was the largest Atlantic hurricane on record and the second-costliest, behind only Hurricane Katrina. At least 253 people were killed and an estimated $65.6 billion was lost due to damage and business interruption. For weeks, many in this, the wealthiest country in the world, were suddenly lacking the basic necessities of life, such as shelter, heat, power, and water. The most dramatic damage occurred in southern New Jersey and the New York City metropolitan area. In New Jersey, the historic Seaside Heights roller coaster was carried out into the Atlantic Ocean, where its tangled ruins remain today. Video of the famous Jersey shore area revealed miles of destroyed boardwalks and beaches that had virtually disappeared, along with hundreds of demolished houses and boats. To the north, nearly 100 people died within a 65-mile radius of New York City as a result of Hurricane Sandy. Manhattan had never before flooded, but Hurricane Sandy’s waters were nearly 4 feet higher than the city’s 10-foot walls. Scores were killed in their homes on the coasts of Staten Island and Queens. Some ignored mandatory orders to evacuate, others were elderly and infirm, but all were victimized by a flood surge that filled houses with water within minutes, allowing no escape. Others were killed by falling branches and trees. Millions of people were without power, and received little-to-no information from their utility companies about when power might be restored. The catastrophe was reminiscent of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, and many feared a repeat of the government’s feeble response to that storm might occur again.

This time, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) was ready to act. Within three days, FEMA had deployed about 2,300 disaster-relief personnel across several states; provided shelter to more than 10,000 people; rescued some 700 people; and delivered around 700,000 gallons of water and 1.5 million meals to others in need. Perversely, many in the House of Representatives now propose that we slash the agency’s funding by up to 40 percent, arguing that disaster relief should be handled by the states and private sector, not the federal government. The argument typically goes that the Federal government is overly bureaucratic and slow to act while states can be nimble, understand the needs of the localities and their constituents better, and thus should be charged with more responsibility.

The Federal government must have the capacity to swiftly respond when it comes to disaster relief. Of course, as past mistakes reveal, a bigger FEMA does not necessarily mean a better FEMA, nor enhanced relief ability. The agency spent nearly $900 million on prefabricated homes in New Orleans after Katrina, but then was prevented by its own regulations being able to put them to use. People were getting sick because the contractors used too much formaldehyde in the construction of the houses and the fumes were intoxicating. Rather than providing housings for thousands who had lost their homes, they rotted in storage lots. In spite of this, FEMA can only be effective if it is allowed to be a large agency. When the national government can address disasters effectively, it saves everyone money, including the states and the private sector, which limits the damage caused when roads and power lines are not repaired quickly and people cannot return home and rebuild. As Matthew Yglesias wrote in Slate.com: “But that requires financing by an entity capable of rapidly financing expensive projects – i.e., the federal government…and (slashing federal disaster aid) is the height of penny-wise, pound-foolish thinking.”

When Hurricane Sandy hit, New Jersey Governor Chris Christie, who had previously expressed his contempt for government and whose policies led to the dismissal of tens of thousands of government workers, met with President Obama and with FEMA. Governor Christie said: “The federal government’s response has been great. I was on the phone at midnight…with the president, personally; he has expedited the designation of New Jersey as a major disaster area.” He later added: “The folks at FEMA…have been excellent.” On December 7, President Obama asked Congress for $60.4 billion in aid for the states most affected by Hurricane Sandy. This will not cover all the estimated losses, as New York Governor Andrew Cuomo and New Jersey Governor Christie alone estimated the losses of just their 2 states at nearly $78 billion. The Mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg, a former Republican turned Independent, added: “We need a full recovery package to be voted on in this session of Congress. Any delay will impede our recovery.” The current session of Congress ends on Jan. 3, 2013, when the next House, with largely the same Republic majority, will take office. California representative Donna Edwards noted that, with global warming looming, the challenge is great, and the need for response greater: “…the importance of investing in this infrastructure now so that we don’t make it more vulnerable later on needs to be high on the priority list, because the damage to us in terms of our long-term economy and competitiveness is really huge.”

Our nation has confronted emergencies before, and the federal government has often been the ultimate solution when the private sector failed. During the Great Depression, the stock market failed, thousands of private banks failed, private charities failed, and when President Franklin D. Roosevelt took office in March 1933, the nation was on the precipice of total failure. President Roosevelt closed all the banks for 4 days, and then announced that the federal government would guarantee bank deposits through the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation. The result was that the banking system (and currency) was saved, giving the economy had a chance to recover, as the American people had a renewed confidence in their government and its roles and abilities in helping people. The private sector had no plan; government was the solution.

A profound midrash (Bava Batra 10a) teaches about how humans are not in control over nature.

He [Rabbi Yehuda] used to say: Ten strong things were created in the world—A mountain is strong, but iron cuts through it. Iron is strong, but fire can make it bubble. Fire is strong, but water puts it out. Water is strong, but clouds contain it. Clouds are strong, but the wind can scatter them. Breath is strong, but the body holds it in. The body is strong, but fear breaks it. Fear is strong, but wine dissipates it effects. Wine is strong, but sleep overcomes its power. Death is stronger than all of them. But Tzedakah saves from death, as it is written, “And Tzedakah saves from death.” (Proverbs 10:2)

When nature, death, or other forces overcome us, the best thing we can do is fight back with tzedakah (with love, kindness, and charitable giving). We must all do our part as individuals and we need strong non-profits and state-level responses, but we must also unite to support a stronger federal government that is best equipped to address crises wherever and whenever they strike. This is the essence of America: to be united in both our times of need and times of hopes, our traumas and our triumphs.

The Visiting Scribes series was produced by the Jewish Book Council‘s blog, The Prosen People.

The post Hurricane Sandy, FEMA, and the Need for Big Government appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

If one listened only to the avalanche of political ads during the recent election campaign, one might believe that Americans were being crushed under the heaviest federal tax burden ever, and that raising taxes on the wealthy (the “job creators”) was tantamount to national economic suicide. This view, bolstered by much of the record $4-6 billion raised for the Presidential and Congressional campaigns, was heavily supported by a small group of billionaires, perhaps topped by casino magnate Sheldon Adelson, who reportedly made contributions of a record $150 million himself. In total, billions of dollars were spent by people who claimed that they were forced to spend too much in federal taxes.

In reality, Americans today have the lowest federal tax burden since 1950. Historically, in the 1950s and early 1960s the economy was very healthy, and the top income tax bracket paid around 90 percent. When tax rates were dramatically reduced for the wealthiest Americans, as in the 1920s and over the last decade and a half, brief prosperity resulted, followed by a catastrophic economic crash and the greatest inequality in wealth between the very rich and the rest of the population.

The Jewish tradition has much to say about fairness in taxation, and consistently endorses the principle that those who benefit the most from society have the greatest obligation to pay for the support of the community. For example, Deuteronomy 15:4 states: “And there shall be no needy among you.” In addition, farmers were instructed to go over their fields and vineyards only once, and not to reap the corners of their fields: “Leave them for the poor and the foreigner” (Leviticus 19:9-10). According to the Mishnah, the community was expected to support a communal kitchen, burial society, and other needed infrastructure (Peah 8:7). Later, more defined funds presided over by prominent members of the community were set up to deal with the poor. In order to achieve this, citizens were taxed in proportion to their ability to pay. Thus, Jewish law has consistently upheld the idea that a fair taxation is necessary for the maintenance of the community.

We can see this trend in the 1979-2005 period, which was especially unique for its lower taxes on the wealthy. Congressional Budget Office data indicate that among Americans:

• The top one-hundredth of one percent had an income growth of 384 percent, while their tax burden decreased by 11.4 percent
• Median income increased by 12 percent, and the tax burden for the middle quintile decreased by only 4.4 percent

In addition, from 2000-2007, the top 0.1 percent of American earners saw a 94 percent increase in income, compared with a 4 percent increase in income for the bottom 90 percent of earners. As former Secretary of Labor, Robert Reich observed, citing 2011 data, poverty – especially among the young – is on the rise, and there are deliberate efforts to create even greater economic inequality:

• 21 percent of American school-aged children lived in poor households, a 4 percent increase since 2007
• Nearly one out of every four children lived in a family that had difficulty obtaining a sufficient food supply at some point during the year
• In spite of this, about 60 percent of all cuts in the proposed 2011 Republican budget targeted child food, nutrition, school programs, food stamps, and Medicaid

In the past, this trend toward lower taxes for the wealthy and greater inequality of wealth led to a pattern of booms and busts. The worst economic downturn occurred after one such period, culminating in the stock market crash in 1929 and the ensuing Great Depression. The second worst economic downturn came at the end of George W. Bush’s second term in 2007, also following a period of tax cuts for the rich and great economic inequality. During his Presidency, the stock market lost about 25 percent of its value, and the NASDAQ lost nearly half its value. In contrast, President Bill Clinton, who raised income taxes for the highest earners, presided over a booming stock market, with the Dow Jones average climbing more than 7,000 points over his two terms. Thus, raising taxes on the wealthy appears to aid economic growth, while cutting taxes for the rich only exacerbates income inequality and encourages reckless financial schemes that can lead to deep economic recession.

This year has offered stark evidence of how lowering taxes for the wealthy tends to increase economic inequality. In one 3-month period in 2012, ExxonMobil’s profits were $16 billion, the highest ever recorded by an American corporation. In spite of this, the oil industry will receive an average of more than $15 billion of subsidies annually from the federal government. On the other hand, most Americans continued to struggle. For example, the greatest number of jobs created was in retail sales, where the average annual salary was less than $21,000. In addition, the number of those unemployed, working part-time but trying in vain to get full-time work, and those who gave up looking for work reached more than 23 million. In a callous gesture, the extended benefits period (the last 20 weeks) of unemployment insurance was cut off this summer due to congressional failure to renew the program, throwing millions of people off unemployment benefits. If Congress fails to act by the end of 2012, an additional 2 million Americans will lose their unemployment benefits.

The 2012 Presidential election campaign offered Americans the opportunity to choose whether to continue the Bush tax policy or return to Clinton-era policy of a slight increase on the tax rate of income above $250,000. Republican Presidential nominee Mitt Romney stated that he paid a 14 percent rate on his income tax in the one year for which he released his returns. However, his effective tax rate was around 10 percent—far less than the rate most middle class Americans pay. In November, the American people voted to re-elect President Barack Obama, thus voting to raise taxes on the wealthy. As Americans, as Jews, and as activists for justice, we must continue to press Congress to carry out this policy.

Bend the Arc, the great Jewish social justice organization, is leading the way on this cause and others can join their fight by signing on to their petition.

The Visiting Scribes series was produced by the Jewish Book Council‘s blog, The Prosen People.

The post What Is Fair Taxation? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

Purim is coming and the inhabitants of my house are giddy with anticipation. It has long been a favorite holiday in our family. We talk about costumes for weeks ahead of time. We take annual Purim pictures of the kids in their costumes. Marathon baking sessions ensure adequate supplies of hamantaschen for eating and sharing. And the kids take special pleasure in sending packages of hamantaschen and other goodies to friends and family, near and far. That’s before the actual holiday even arrives, bringing with it feasting, megillah reading, and shpielling.

Amid all the frivolity and hoopla that accompanies Purim, however, is a serious obligation; feeding the hungry.

The commandment to provide food for the poor finds its basis in the Purim story itself (Esther 9:22). The Gemara (Megillah 7a) offers the necessary guidelines; it states that one must distribute gifts to the poor. And not just to one person but to no fewer than two needy individuals. Such gifts can be in the form of money or actual foodstuffs. So important is this oft-overlooked obligation that the Rambam places a higher value on the act of caring for the poor than on any other aspect of the holiday.

It is better for a person to increase gifts to the poor than to increase his feast or the mishloach manot (gifts of food) to his neighbours. There is no joy greater or more rewarding than to gladden the heart of the poor, orphans, widows and strangers. For by gladdening the hearts of the downtrodden, we are following the example of the Divine.
(Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Megillah 2:17)

Once upon a time, the organization formerly known as the Jewish Fund for Justice established a special fund to help women successfully overcome barriers to becoming economically self-sufficient. The Purim Fund for Women in Poverty distributed funds to agencies that worked with ow-income women, providing them with skills and assistance in order to help them improve their economic situations.

Why women?

Because women are disproportionately at risk for falling below the poverty line. Across all racial lines.

• In 2010, 31.6 percent of households headed by single women were poor, while 15.8 percent of households headed by single men and 6.2 percent of married-couple households lived in poverty.
• 13 percent of women over 75 years old are poor compared to 6 percent of men.
• The poverty gap between women and men widens significantly between ages 18 and 24—20.6 percent of women are poor at that age, compared to 14.0 percent of men.

The Purim Fund for Women in Poverty no longer exists. But there are many worthy organizations in every community that are working tirelessly to gladden the hearts of the most vulnerable in our society. Won’t you consider increasing the joy of Purim by assisting those in need as our Tradition demands of us?

The post Increasing Purim’s Joy appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

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?

The post Shavuot & Giving: Taking the Time to Get It Right appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

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.

Because of my public role in the Jewish community, I am very open about the fact that I get scholarship money to send my kids to camp. If people know that I do, perhaps they will feel more comfortable asking me about it and doing the same. I actually try to model that asking for Jewish dollars to send Jewish kids to Jewish camps is a good thing.

However, going public with that information is my personal choice. Many people who need assistance do not want everyone to know their circumstances. Yet last year, my synagogue listed all of the children by name that received financial assistance for camp in our monthly congregational bulletin. When I called to ask why they felt the need to do this, I was told that it “could encourage others to ask for money.” I thought just the opposite. If people knew that they would publicly be categorized as needing help, many would be less likely than ever to ask for it. Nowhere did it say on the forms that if your family received aid, your child’s name would be publicly listed. My complaints resulted in yet a new question on the application; now you check a box if you DON’T want your child’s name listed. I would wager that 100% of families check the NO box. Yet the question remains.

I know that funding agencies do need to know some information to determine who needs aid and who doesn’t, but this could be a far less invasive process. This year I saw a new question on the paperwork. I was asked to calculate my family’s food expenses for the year. I was stunned. Why would anyone need to know this? This question brings up so much that is wrong in our society and I was saddened that the Jewish community was so insensitive and uninformed. It is a fact that healthy, fresh food such as produce and proteins cost more than processed and packaged food.

Why would the scholarship committee want to know what I spend on food? Will I be penalized for feeding my family healthy, more expensive food? What if I spent a lot of money on food because I fed others, as an act of tzedakah—or what if I invited people to my home when they needed somewhere to celebrate the Jewish holidays? What if someone in my family had a food allergy that necessitated us to follow a specific and more expensive diet? Why am I second-guessing what I feed my family as I am asking for help sending my Jewish children to Jewish summer camp? I remain stunned.

This has been on my mind for some time. I have spoken with some of the heads of these funding agencies as well as those who serve on the committees. These are people who are committed to helping others and who are engaged in doing good work for the Jewish community. I am certain of this and yet we have a lot to fix in this process. I am charging all of us to do better and to be guided by the principles of Judaism that somehow always lead us in the right direction.

It starts with each of us. My husband and I talk about how we will spend our money when our kids are grown and when we have a little more to give, and our top choice is always to give back to the places that helped us send our kids to camp. We want to support those important scholarships— and we want the funding to require little to no paperwork, bring absolutely no stigma, and instead just make access to life-changing camp experiences more affordable for all families.

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The post Jewish Camp Scholarships: Are We Being Mensches? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

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?
He answered them, “Teshuvah, because sometimes one gives Tzedakah to one who does not need it. However, Teshuvah comes from within (it is always needed).” They (the students) said to him, “Rabbi, have we not already found that Tzedakah is greater than Teshuvah?”

How does one explore Judaism and derive deep meaning from it? What if you want to strengthen your Jewish identity? One way is to become introspective and find yourself in intense moments we create through silent ritual and prayer. This is the essence of “Teshuvah,” the “return to one’s tradition. This is one way, and it is a good way. But it is not the only way.

Another way to achieve this goal is to immerse oneself in Tzedakah. To experience the intensity of giving a bag of school supplies to a child who has never had them before, delivering 20,000 pounds of food to a shelter in Mississippi or building a house in Appalachia—is a way becoming close to God.

I can tell you this; when I am alone and feel in the dark, scared and aware of my mortality, when I am in pain, it is the Tzedakah experiences I dust-off and recall. They bring me back. Ritual and prayer are vital expressions of my identity and form the basis of my observance, but my humanity comes from Tzedakah.

The post Who Will Live and Who Will Die? appeared first on My Jewish Learning.

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.

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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The post Receiving in Giving appeared first on My Jewish Learning.