Last week, on Shavuot, I went to the Manhattan JCC’s midnight learning session. I heard Ruth Messinger, president of American Jewish World Service (AJWS), talk about “Sustaining Our Commitment to Social Justice.” AJWS is an international development organization that works to alleviate poverty, hunger, and disease in the developing world.
Ms. Messinger opened the conversation by looking at three Jewish texts on tzedakah (literally “justice” or “righteousness”). Each text gave a different answer to the question “Whom am I obligated to help?” One text suggested that we give first to our own kinsmen: other Jews, our own relatives, our own townspeople. Another text suggested we gave non-preferentially: equally to Jews and non-Jews. The third text highlighted the problem in giving first to our own kinsmen, namely that there are many poor people without any wealthy kinsmen. This text further took issue with creating a hierarchy of giving, claiming that “people do not act this way,” but rather give more indiscriminately.
We then launched into a conversation on how we personally decide whom we are obligated to help. Ms. Messinger pointed out that many people say they have two or three causes to which they contribute. But if most people checked their bank statements, they would find they make contributions more indiscriminately than they might think. One participant said he chooses causes based on what feels right. Another said she gives to causes that helped her in the past, like her afterschool program or summer camp. Another said she gives to causes when asked, like when a friend asks for a contribution to her walk-a-thon.
But what about the stranger on the street who asks for money—are we likely to give to this person? One young participant, seemingly in high school, shared the regret he felt after a homeless person recently asked him for spare change and he declined to give. Many other participants had similar stories. A woman in the back of the room said that in this case, she follows the halakhic ruling: that if a stranger asks for food you are obligated to give, but if a stranger asks for money it is up to your discretion. When approached for money by the homeless, she asks if she can buy them a sandwich instead. Another woman said she will give money, but then asks the recipient, “Pray for me.” Ms. Messinger emphasized the power of this interaction—that even if you’re unable or unwilling to give, speaking to the person adds an incredible level of humanity.
The group noted that we are indeed more likely to give to an organization that to an individual, but Ms. Messinger stressed the importance of doing your due diligence. She implored us all to research our charities on Charity Navigator or GuideStar to see how effectively they will spend your donation.
One participant shared her frustration at spending so much time trying to define and categorize her giving. She prefers to “live a with open heart”—to spend less time worrying how she’s doing tzedakah and spend more time actually doing it! Ms. Messinger acknowledged this frustration and shared AJWS’s guide for living charitably, symbolized by a six-pointed star. The points are:
Ms. Messinger shared a teaching of the ancient rabbis, who asked, “If you have $1,000 to give, which is better: to give all $1,000 to one person, or to give $1 to 1,000 different people?” The ancient rabbis decided it is best to give $1 to 1,000 different people, because it exercises your “tzedakah muscle.”
To the participant who prefered to “live with an open heart,” this teaching shows the value in worrying about how you do tzedakah. Even when it seems that your contribution is just a drop in the bucket—or that it might cause more negative harm than positive help, or when it becomes emotionally taxing—we must still find a way to sustain and exercise our tzedakah muscle. It is the regular worrying about tzedakah that enables you to do more tzedakah.
There are many ways to do tzedakah. But to retreat to being overwhelmed is a luxury we simply cannot afford. As rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught, “In a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible.” In a world of such great inequity, we have a responsibility, Ms. Messinger stressed, to get involved and stay involved. As Rabbi Tarfon teaches in Pirkei Avot (2:21) “You are not required to complete the work, but neither may you refrain from starting it.”
Ms. Messinger opened the conversation by looking at three Jewish texts on tzedakah (literally “justice” or “righteousness”). Each text gave a different answer to the question “Whom am I obligated to help?” One text suggested that we give first to our own kinsmen: other Jews, our own relatives, our own townspeople. Another text suggested we gave non-preferentially: equally to Jews and non-Jews. The third text highlighted the problem in giving first to our own kinsmen, namely that there are many poor people without any wealthy kinsmen. This text further took issue with creating a hierarchy of giving, claiming that “people do not act this way,” but rather give more indiscriminately.
We then launched into a conversation on how we personally decide whom we are obligated to help. Ms. Messinger pointed out that many people say they have two or three causes to which they contribute. But if most people checked their bank statements, they would find they make contributions more indiscriminately than they might think. One participant said he chooses causes based on what feels right. Another said she gives to causes that helped her in the past, like her afterschool program or summer camp. Another said she gives to causes when asked, like when a friend asks for a contribution to her walk-a-thon.
But what about the stranger on the street who asks for money—are we likely to give to this person? One young participant, seemingly in high school, shared the regret he felt after a homeless person recently asked him for spare change and he declined to give. Many other participants had similar stories. A woman in the back of the room said that in this case, she follows the halakhic ruling: that if a stranger asks for food you are obligated to give, but if a stranger asks for money it is up to your discretion. When approached for money by the homeless, she asks if she can buy them a sandwich instead. Another woman said she will give money, but then asks the recipient, “Pray for me.” Ms. Messinger emphasized the power of this interaction—that even if you’re unable or unwilling to give, speaking to the person adds an incredible level of humanity.
The group noted that we are indeed more likely to give to an organization that to an individual, but Ms. Messinger stressed the importance of doing your due diligence. She implored us all to research our charities on Charity Navigator or GuideStar to see how effectively they will spend your donation.
One participant shared her frustration at spending so much time trying to define and categorize her giving. She prefers to “live a with open heart”—to spend less time worrying how she’s doing tzedakah and spend more time actually doing it! Ms. Messinger acknowledged this frustration and shared AJWS’s guide for living charitably, symbolized by a six-pointed star. The points are:
1) Learn moreA participant added to this list “Invest ethically”—that is, buy from companies who use sustainable practices, shop locally. Ms. Messinger noted that of the small portion of our tax dollars that go towards alleviating global hunger, 75% of that money goes to subsidize American agribusinesses. She’s seen giant cargo ships full of tax-subsidized, American-grown rice being shipped off to Central and South America, where that rice will likely put a local farmer out of business. Instead, that tax money could go to help local farmers in third-world countries invest in irrigation technologies.
2) Teach others
3) Be of service
4) Do advocacy
5) Give money
6) Consume ethically
Ms. Messinger shared a teaching of the ancient rabbis, who asked, “If you have $1,000 to give, which is better: to give all $1,000 to one person, or to give $1 to 1,000 different people?” The ancient rabbis decided it is best to give $1 to 1,000 different people, because it exercises your “tzedakah muscle.”
To the participant who prefered to “live with an open heart,” this teaching shows the value in worrying about how you do tzedakah. Even when it seems that your contribution is just a drop in the bucket—or that it might cause more negative harm than positive help, or when it becomes emotionally taxing—we must still find a way to sustain and exercise our tzedakah muscle. It is the regular worrying about tzedakah that enables you to do more tzedakah.
There are many ways to do tzedakah. But to retreat to being overwhelmed is a luxury we simply cannot afford. As rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel taught, “In a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible.” In a world of such great inequity, we have a responsibility, Ms. Messinger stressed, to get involved and stay involved. As Rabbi Tarfon teaches in Pirkei Avot (2:21) “You are not required to complete the work, but neither may you refrain from starting it.”