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Tikun Olam

The Mitzvah of Tzedakah
Danny Seigel

How I Got to Write This Article
I spend my life doing tzedakah work. The way I began this work is really a story of serendipity. In 1975, when I was planning a trip to Israel, I asked friends and family to give me a dollar or two for tzedakah, an old Jewish custom I thought would add a certain interesting element to my trip. To my surprise, I left the United States with much more than I expected--$955. Suddenly I felt a great responsibility: I had to find the right people to receive the money.

Since then, friends, relatives and people I don't even know have given me more than $2,600,000. The process remains the same: I seek out people doing wonderful acts of tzedakah, give them money, and then tell the people who gave me money how it made people's lives better. In the past year alone, I sent $340,000 to help fund over one hundred projects-most of which began because one person saw a need and decided to fill it. These people are not experts of any kind; they are everyday people who happen to be doing astounding acts of tikkun olam, fixing the world. I call these people my mitzvah heroes.

It's that simple. Tzedakah money, placed in the hands of the right people, makes miracles happen. These people are everywhere, and I believe that everyone is capable of doing a mitzvah that can touch lives very deeply. I learned that from my mitzvah heroes.

The Lessons of Tzedakah
Over the past twenty-some years, I've been taking an informal poll of two sample groups. It doesn't go by any official rules of polling, nor can I tell you the percentages of allowable variation plus or minus. Nevertheless, I believe that the results are very instructive.

Through my tzedakah work, I frequently speak to people about the mitzvah of tzedakah and listen to what they have to say. When I lecture at synagogues, Jewish community centers, or Federations, I ask parents, "What would you like your child to be when he or she grows up?" The answers usually run: "Healthy." "A good Jew." "Happy." Someone always says, "A mensch"-a good person, decent, kind, and caring.

When I ask groups of teenagers, "What could you do that would most please your parents?" the near-universal first answer is, "Get good grades."

Short Circuits
While I believe that parents truly want to raise their children to be good, compassionate people, somewhere along the way, that message is getting short circuited. Telling our children that we want them to be their best apparently isn't enough. We need to convey a greater goal: a purpose that includes not only ourselves, but also concerns the welfare and well being of others.

This means starting early. Introducing concepts of tzedakah and mitzvot to children at a young age teaches them to focus outside themselves. For many parents, tzedakah conjures images of little blue boxes at Religious School; however, the word tzedakah literally means "justice" or doing the right thing. A mitzvah is a commandment, which differs from voluntary social action or community service. As these Jewish values become part of our children's everyday vocabulary, they learn to approach the question of "What do I want to be when I grow up?" from a very different perspective.

Tzedakah as Second Nature
Many parents are looking for ways to "program" mitzvot and tzedakah into their lives, like ballet lessons or soccer games. Try these ideas with your child:

• Each time you go grocery shopping, buy an extra item for tzedakah. Depending on the age of your children, let them decide which item will be bought for tzedakah. Older children can even pay part of the cost. Bring the designated item to a synagogue food container or a food pantry for hungry people. The results, even over the shortest period of time, are astonishing.
• Place pushkas (tzedakah boxes) everywhere around the house: on the kitchen shelf, in the living room, near the Shabbat candle sticks, by the washing machine, in the child's bedroom, and in the parent's room. Watching these boxes get filled can really make a difference. (So does making tzedakah boxes with your children.) As children get older, let them select the charity or cause and even let them write the designated charity's name on the check.
• A bar or bat mitzvah can be a wonderful opportunity for tzedakah and an essential component of coming-of-age Jewishly. I have seen b'nai mitzvah ask guests to bring a can of food or item of clothing to be donated afterward to people in need. I've seen centerpieces at the kiddush creatively designed around sports equipment to be given to children who have none. These are examples of thoughtfulness and caring in a young Jewish adult. Going one step further: when the event is marked by the bar or bat mitzvah youth giving away a portion of the money to tzedakah-this is a good sign for the future.

Personalizing Tzedakah
Although we've been focusing on children, we need to remember that tzedakah is very much an adult affair. To personalize your involvement, consider both what you like to do and what you are good at. Evaluate your talents and the areas where you excel- formally or informally-be it catching a football, making salads, or surfing the web. For example, if you ski, contribute to a ski resort where disabled skiers will also be enjoying the slopes. If you or your child love animals and household pets, take the dog to the nursing home, or buy birds or an aquarium for the facility. Visit and admire the fish and birds along with the residents.

If you have recently moved or may be experiencing difficulty in adjusting, consider getting involved with a program for New Americans in your community or donating money to a project in Israel that provides school supplies for recent immigrants.

No Small Mitzvahs
As parents, our role is to inspire our children that the mitzvah of tzedakah is more than just a nice thing to do; it is a critical part of being Jewish, at any age. Anything you and your child do to help someone else does make a difference in this world. There is no such thing as a small mitzvah. Let your children learn this lesson early on: they are not helpless to make this a better world. They have the power to change it. Let us hope that their childhood idealism can remain with them-and with each of us-for the rest of our lives.

Danny Siegel is a freelance poet, author, and lecturer. He is the Director of the Ziv Tzedakah Fund, Inc, a fund that links donors to worthy recipients in the U.S. and Israel.

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Let All Who Are Hungry Come and Eat
Rabbi Neal Gold

The rabbis of old were not afraid to "tell it like it was." According to one midrash, Joshua ben Levi, a late-second-century rabbi, went to Rome to watch the goings on in the big city. There he saw marble pillars, which had been carefully covered with wrappings to keep them from cracking during the heat and from freezing during the cold. By contrast, he saw there a poor man who had no more than a reed mat underneath him and a reed mat over him for protection from the heat and the cold.

Even though this incident took place perhaps 1600 years ago, it sounds very much like our world today. We live in a society where values can be topsy-turvy. All too often, we give respect, honor, and value to possessions, property, and material goods, while we ignore real human lives.

Real Life
I learned these lessons first hand over a decade ago while I was in rabbinical school-although not necessarily in the classroom. At that time, students of Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in New York decided that we simply could no longer enter our school day after day without doing something for all the hungry and homeless people we encountered on the way there. We countered our feelings of helplessness by serving dinner to the homeless every Monday evening.

Today, the College has a model soup kitchen. Students and community volunteers serve dinner to nearly 200 people a week. They do it with an eye toward the basic dignity and individuality of every person. That's why, besides hot, nutritious food, there are flowers and white tablecloths on the dinner table.

There is also a jazz piano player in the background, volunteers sewing torn clothes in the corner, and NYU law students giving free legal services. Hungry people are referred to as "guests" and volunteers know most of the guests by name. Each guest leaves with a little more dignity than when he or she came in-creating an oasis of hospitality from the sometimes cold New York streets.

The Faces of Hunger
The most important thing I learned from running the HUC Soup Kitchen was that there is no single face for the problems of hunger and poverty in America. If 200 people were in our dining room, then there were 200 unique stories about how those individuals came to be eating dinner with us on that particular evening.

I often think of Sophie and Sarah. These two elderly Jewish sisters lived, as they always had, on the Lower East Side of New York. If we encountered them on the street, most of us would call them "bag ladies," by virtue of the metal pushcarts they shlepped around the city filled with personal items. But upon hearing their stories, you would never be able to stereotype them again.

Sarah and Sophie were links to the Old World of Yiddish New York which I had learned about, but only as history. They were also reminders for all of us that the problems of hunger and poverty touched the Jewish world like any other community in America: in fact, it touches us much more frequently than we care to admit.

I also think of Kevin, a homeless man living in Greenwich Village. After many years, Kevin got back on his feet and found steady work and a cheap apartment. Yet he continued to come to HUC-in order to volunteer. "It's my responsibility as much as anyone's," he'd say, "to take care of hungry people."

Most of all, I think of Gary, a thirtyish African American man who came to the Soup Kitchen regularly. He was always extremely well-groomed, neatly dressed, and erudite. He and I often discussed city politics, religion or philosophy. I remember thinking to myself, "Now here's a guy who's clearly down on his luck a bit...any employer would be glad to hire a guy as together as Gary."

That was what I was thinking one evening, when I was leaving HUC and walking toward my subway stop. There was Gary, sitting in Washington Square Park. I strolled over and high-fived him. When we reached the train I innocently inquired, "So, where are you staying these days?" Gary gave me a melancholy look and said, "An ATM machine over on Ninth Avenue."

I couldn't believe it. Here was a guy I figured was eating dinner with us just to stretch his budget. Was this one of the cases of homelessness in America? This is the type of person whom this cold society of ours spits upon? A guy as classy as Gary?

From the Jewish perspective, there can be no more amorphous abstractions like "the homeless," "the hungry," or "the poor." Being able to generalize away the human names and faces lets us off the hook. It makes us forget the real pain that exists out there. It allows politicians and bureaucrats to play on the stereotypical fears about "those people." Instead, we need to replace stereotypes with faces and names: "Sarah," "Sophie," "Gary." Judaism commands this of us.

By the way, in recent years, Gary has found cheap housing and has begun showing up at HUC less and less frequently. But I can't help thinking: 1600 years later, is our society all that much different from the world that Rabbi Joshua ben Levi observed?

Ways to Make This Mitzvah Your Own

• Listen to the Rabbis of old, like Rabbi Joshua ben Levi. Don't close your eyes to the real pain that exists in our world. Volunteer in a soup kitchen or a homeless shelter. If you're in New York on a Monday, by all means visit HUC-JIR (1 West 4th St., NY, NY, 10012; [212] 674-5300), and see how they do this mitzvah so well.
• Donate food to a food drive on Yom Kippur and other fast days-donate the amount of food you'd normally be eating on that day. Wait until you see how much more meaning that gives your fast!
• Learn more about MAZON-A Jewish Response to Hunger. They encourage all Jews to give 3% of the cost of any celebration-a birthday party, or Bar Mitzvah reception, or company dinner-towards their hunger-relief projects. You can contact Rabbi Shira Stern, the East Coast Regional Director of Mazon, at (732) 972-1716, or by e-mail at ravshira@aol.com. Also, check out their web site: www.shamash.org/soc-action/mazon/
• Don't allow local restaurants to get away with throwing out large amounts of uneaten food-it is easy enough in most places in America to donate unwanted food to shelters or soup kitchens. All you have to do is speak up and ask: "By the way, what do you do with all your leftovers?"
• Study more Jewish texts about hunger and poverty, and seek out Mitzvah-heroes like Trevor Ferrell. (Contact Trevor's Endeavors, Box 21, Gladwyne, PA 19035; [610] 642-4633.)
• Vote and support policies that ensure people's rights to food and other basic elements of social justice.

Rabbi Neal Gold is the Assistant Rabbi at Anshe Emeth Memorial Temple, New Brunswick, NJ.

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Honoring the Elderly
Rabbi Sandra R. Berliner

My grandmother sold her home after my grandfather died and moved into an apartment. She was 86 years old. I remember that she was intent on renting one particular unit in the new building. When it came time to sign the lease, she was unhappily surprised to find that the apartment promised to her had been rented to someone else!

My grandma was literally a "little old lady," maybe 4'10"-yet she packed quite a punch when it came to standing up for her rights! She marched into the rental office and told the manager, "You're not pulling anything over on this old lady! I want THAT apartment!"

Needless to say, the young couple who had just begun unpacking was told to pack up and move to a different place!

Often those of us enjoying youth, young adulthood and even middle age tend to forget that people who have reached retirement and beyond are people with feelings, sensibilities, intelligence, histories, and values. Yet the Torah teaches: "You shall rise before the aged and show deference to the old; you shall fear your God:
I am the Lord" (Lev. 19:32).

Growing Older
Judaism, from its oldest teachings, places a premium on the mitzvah of hiddur pnei zaken: honoring the elderly. The midrash says: He who welcomes an old man is as if he welcomed the Shechina (God's presence).

God willing, we will all grow old. (As my mother-in-law is fond of saying, "It's better than the alternative!") The Psalmist writes, "The span of our life is seventy years, or, given the strength, eighty years. For some, aging may mean losing physical, mental, and even financial resources. Aging can also mean growing in wisdom, experience, and offering valuable insight as to how to live life.

As at every point along life's cycle, each person is unique and each will age differently. Some people lead active lives in their own homes well into their eighties, some enter nursing homes with debilitating illnesses much younger, some suffer from Alzheimer's, and some complete their days in retirement homes or communities.

Observing the Mitzvah
Aside from the literal commandment of "rising up before a gray head," the Torah tell us little of what we can do in practice. But there are so many ways to fulfill the mitzvah of hiddur pnei zaken.

First, begin at home by observing the commandment, "Honor they father and thy mother." As grandparents live farther and farther from children and grandchildren, it is so important to keep those connections strong. Take the time to plan ahead to ensure that you celebrate holiday and lifecycle events together-including all the generations!

Listen to the stories of parents and grandparents. Record them and write them down. Those histories are precious legacies for future generations, as well as reminding those who are still young and healthy that, indeed, Bubbe or Zayde was once a child, a teenager, or a young parent!

Reaching Out
Make telephone calls. It certainly can lift the spirit when a cheerful voice says, "Hi Tante, how are you today?" Because so many elderly people are isolated, unable to drive or unable to leave their homes, a friendly voice is incredibly helpful in connecting.

There are also many ways to help not only family members but the aging in the community. Many synagogues have school and youth groups that visit nursing homes and geriatric centers, speaking with residents, performing, and celebrating holidays.

When I was a teenager, in Toledo, Ohio, our youth group would go to the Jewish nursing homes to conduct the minyan (services) on Shabbat mornings. Following the short service, we would spend a little while with the residents. We learned not to fear holding the hand of an older person; we learned to appreciate who they were and to know their names.

In Philadelphia there is a program at the Neuman Senior Center called "Cook for a Friend." So many elderly are homebound and in need of food and groceries. Cooking and shopping for those who can't do so themselves are ways in which we show caring and respect.

Celebrating Jewishly is a wonderful way of enacting this mitzvah. I regularly visit a couple in their eighties. After greeting both husband and wife with a warm hug, we visit and listen to Yiddish music!

Celebrate Life
I remember that when my son was born we would bring him downtown to visit his great-grandparents every other week. It amazed me that my in-laws thought it was such a "big deal"! In reality, it was an honor. How wonderful it was to watch Grandmom hold her first great-grandchild! And how the Shechina was present as the generations held onto each other and passed on the past to the future!

Life is precious and Judaism puts the highest premium on life. May we all find ways to "rise before the aged and show deference to the old" among us.

Sandra R. Berliner is rabbi at Temple Menorah-Keneseth Chai in Philadelphia and Director of Yedid Nefesh, the Jewish Hospice Program.

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Visiting the Sick
Rabbi Amy Eilberg

Every mitzvah has something special to teach us. The mitzvah of visiting the sick-like all sacred acts of lovingkindness-has great power to evoke the best in us, the visitors, while at the same time easing another's pain.

Like many people I know, I have times of being insensitive, self-absorbed and downright mean. I can curse a blue streak if another driver cuts in front of my car. I can snap at grocery clerks or airline ticket agents for an annoyance that is beyond their control. I can completely miss the point of what my daughter is trying to tell me. These are real parts of me.

Yet, more often than not, when I find myself in the hospital visiting someone who is ill, or at the bedside of a dying person, a very different part of me is drawn out. In these situations, the part of me that is genuinely caring and compassionate is called forward. When I am extending myself to a person in pain, I am drawn outside of my own concerns. In trying to be of help to someone who is ill, the best of me-perhaps, the divine part of me-is evoked. Even if I cannot do much for the patient, I am blessed by participating in a moment of kindness.

Shared Vulnerability
Bikkur Cholim is the mitzvah of being present with the ill, of bringing one's own self as a gift to a person in pain. Being present with one who is suffering brings the warmth of human caring and connection into the lonely landscape of illness. Being present means listening fully and quietly, without the usual rush of judgments, suggestions, and assumptions. To be present is to touch the one who feels alone in pain-sometimes, touching physically, and always touching the person with caring. Practicing bikkur cholim brings to the one who is ill the presence of the Jewish community, an embodiment of a broader circle of people that has also known times of suffering. Engaging in bikkur cholim acknowledges the mysteries of life and death and honors God's presence in both.

Bikkur cholim is as exquisitely simple as bringing the message, "I really want to know what this is like for you," "I know who you are when you are not sick," "I am sorry this is happening to you; "I am with you," or "I care." It is as profound as sharing the patient's awareness of mortality and the universality of pain. The visitor's presence in the room communicates the knowledge that illness and pain are part of life, that we will all walk this path, we will all know illness, we will all someday die. Right now, it is the visitor's turn to be whole, vigorous, and strong enough to offer care. Someday this visitor will be ill, vulnerable, in need. The practice of bikkur cholim acts on the deep awareness of our shared vulnerability and leads us to do what we can for others when it is our turn to be strong and well.

Everyone's Mitzvah
The codes of Jewish law assert boldly: "Bikkur Cholim-mitzvah al hakol, Bikkur Cholim is a mitzvah incumbent on every Jew." This practice is not just for people with specialized gifts or training or experience, not just for those with cheery smiles or poetic souls, not even just for those of deep faith. Bikkur Cholim is a mitzvah, a commandment; it is simply part of how we are to live. When someone is ill, we go visit.

Why did the rabbis teach so emphatically that this work be the work of every Jew, not just the domain of experts? First, the territory of suffering is a place that many of us, left to our own devices, might naturally choose to avoid. And so Jewish tradition gives us the gentle nudge: Go-it is a mitzvah.
Bikkur cholim needs to be everyone's mitzvah, because there is so much suffering in the world. There is so much work to be done. Everyone is needed in the work of alleviating suffering. One never knows which visitor might have something unique to offer to a particular person in a particular moment of pain.

Compassionate Presence
The rabbis of the Talmud boldly asserted that one who visits the ill can remove a fraction of the person's pain and suffering. How can this be? How can a caring visit make a difference in a person's experience of suffering?

A caring visit can provide the comfort of love and compassionate presence, help the person feel connected to Jewish community and to God, offer the possibility of hope. A visit can remind the ill of who they were before the illness and who they still are deep within. An attentive listening ear can help the person to feel better, to touch the place inside where everything is whole and complete, to feel a part of something larger than this pain. Authentic conversation can serve as a vehicle for releasing overwhelming feelings of grief, fear, loss, and rage. Sometimes a good cry really helps. A visit can provide a welcome distraction, a metaphoric vacation from the land of illness and pain. Bikkur cholim helps because being deeply heard, seen, and loved helps.

The ancient Rabbis noticed that the Torah frequently commands us to "walk in God's ways," or to "follow the Lord our God." But how, asks the midrash, can we "follow" a God who has no physical form? The answer: we emulate God's attributes. We are to shape our lives in the image of God's compassion, mercy and lovingkindness, not only reflecting on these qualities but putting them into practice in our everyday lives. Among the best places to do this is in practicing the mitzvot of lovingkindness, in caring for those who suffer. In so doing, we are true to the divine spark within us, true to who we were created to be.

Rabbi Amy Eilberg works in Palo Alto, CA, as a pastoral counselor and lectures on Jewish healing across the country.

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Preserving Our Earth
Ellen Bernstein

Our ancestors depended on nature for their lives and livelihood: rain and crops determined their fate. Today, we think of nature as something outside and separate from ourselves. We associate the "environmental crisis" with images of recycling, buying "green" products or celebrating Earth Day. Nature has become a "problem" that we need to "fix."

Judaism's ecological message is very different. It teaches us that the earth was created by God and everything in it is kadosh, holy. Our relationship to nature is an integral and important part of our Jewish identity. Judaism's environmental ethic raises two questions: How do we treat the holiness that surrounds us? and, What is our place and our role amid the holiness?

Sanctity of all Life
Jewish environmentalism is rooted in the mitzvah (commandment) of bal tashchit, which literally means "do not destroy" but is also interpreted as an obligation to preserve the earth and all its creatures. Bal tashchit is first introduced in the Bible, when the destruction of fruit trees during war is forbidden. This reference to trees is symbolic of the earth's many resources.

This mitzvah also includes taking care of our bodies (shmirat ha-goof) and respecting the life of animals (tzaar baalei chayim). Bal tashchit challenges us to look at how we live in the world and explore how we can use the earth while preserving it.

An Old Dilemma
Our complex relationship with the world is not just a modern dilemma. In the year 1070, Rabbi Bahya Ibn Pakuda of Spain was distressed that people were so obsessed with material wealth and personal gain that they took God and nature for granted. "We must obligate ourselves to meditate on creation," the Rabbi said. "Try to understand both the smallest and the greatest of God's creation and creatures." His message still holds today.

There is a rich relationship with and reverence for nature in all aspects of Judaism. In our liturgy, we often relate to God as the Creator of the world. Jewish law enjoins us to "leave the corners of a field for the poor and hungry," and to let fields rest from planting one year in seven. Our holidays have both historical and agricultural dimensions.

Rediscover the Wonder
Ultimately, everything-all creation-is sacred. Becoming shomrei adamah (guardians of the earth) simply means learning to value nature. This principle invites us to look at the material world and to transform it, to see, understand and act out of respect, humility, and love for God.

Hands-On Judaism
There are many ways to take steps toward becoming guardians of the earth, meeting the challenge of maintaining a reciprocal relationship with nature. Beginning at home is often the simplest: by repairing our home environment, we become sensitive to the ecological needs of the larger world.
Here are a few ways to begin:

• Eliminate and/or reduce wastefulness in your home, including: conserving energy and recycling.
• Implement energy efficiency programs for home and business. Insulate walls and weather-strip windows to maximize heating; use ceiling fans to get the most out of air-conditioning.
• Plant a garden, using environmentally-friendly tools and techniques.
  "Green" your community-urge residents and businesses to recycle and to use less Styrofoam and plastic packaging.
• Participate in environmental activities like Earth Day celebrations or Tu B'shevat Seders.
• Let your state legislators and US congresspeople know how important environmental issues are to you.
• Join environmental groups.

Ellen Bernstein is a consultant with Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia and recently edited Ecology and the Spirit: Where Nature
and the Sacred Meet.

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