e-geress Vol. 1, No. 7 Febuary 25, 2000
Publisher: Rabbi Yechezkel Fox
Editor: Rabbi Yisrael Rutman
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As a service to America's growing numbers of overnight tycoons, Merrill Lynch, the US investment bank, is hiring psychiatrists to help their children ward off "affluenza"---a malady that turns rich kids into spoiled brats...Scott Cooper, a Merrill relationship manager whose office group serves families worth $100 million or more...has found it useful to have the psychiatrists speak to them about the responsibilities of wealth and the joys of philanthropy.--- Financial Times, 2/3/2000 One wonders what, if any, specific advice the psychiatrists at Merrill Lynch will have for their clients. How does one decide how much to give? How to give? And to whom to give? The Jewish cure for "affluenza" is not chicken soup, but a concept called Tsedakah. Often erroneously translated as "charity," Tsedakah is perhaps better rendered as righteous giving, since it derives from the Hebrew word for righteousness, Tsedek. Accordingly, one who gives to the poor should do so not just in order to assuage guilt feelings over an extravagant and wasteful life style, nor even to experience the joys of philanthropy (though he surely will), but in order to do what is right. As Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch wrote, "Why should G-d give you more than you need unless He intended to make you an administrator of such blessing for others." How much, then, should one give? The Shulchan Aruch, the standard Jewish legal code, sets a minimum of 10% of one's profits, and a maximum of 20%. (This, to guard against a self-impoverishing altruism.) Nor are the joys of philanthropy limited to the $100 million club. Even the poor themselves are obligated to give something, when possible. Those who don't have enough even for themselves are, of course, exempt. The ways of giving are ranked by sensitivity: it is preferred that the recipient not know the identity of the donor, in order to save him the embarrassment; better yet, that the donor also not know the identity of the recipient; and the highest form of giving is to provide the person with an opportunity to attain self-sufficiency through a job or business loan. Whose outstretched hand should be filled first? If one's parents are in need, they come before anyone else; then one's children; after that, it's siblings, relatives, neighbors, others in the same town, residents of the Land of Israel, residents of other cities, in that order. The Jewish calendar is only infrequently punctuated by obligatory generosity: before each festival and on Purim day. Ideally, though, Tsedakah is intended to be a more regular affair; and there are deep reasons for this. The Zohar, the primary work of Kabbalah, reveals that time is a spiritual entity; and each day has a permanent existence. When the time arrives for man to leave this world, all his days appear before the Heavenly Court to give evidence concerning him. Therefore, we should strive to fill all our days with Torah and Tsedakah, so that they will testify on our behalf. Moreover, the Torah enjoins us "to walk in all His ways" (Devarim 10:12). The Midrash on this verse adds: "Just as G-d is compassionate and gracious to all, so should you be." Tradition teaches that G-d created the universe out of His desire to bestow goodness on others; compassion and graciousness are of His essence. It follows, then, that if we are to emulate G-d's attributes, then we too must strive to make giving a part of our essential being, and not just an occasional act. We have a practical program for giving; but in Judaism it is not only act, but essence, which is paramount. The turn of the millenium has been marked by the phenomenon of "donor fatigue." There seems no end to the pleas (and demands) for help from the underdeveloped countries. The I.M.F., the U.N. and the U.S.A. are reaching the limit of their vast reservoir of cash; of the calculated altruism of the West. There is also a kind of secondary donor fatigue. Individuals of limited means may well ask: Of what significance is my $5 or $10 donation, when even 5 or 10 billion is inadequate to meet humanity's massive needs? The answer lies in the things we have said here. For the purpose of Tsedakah is not only to help others; but to provide a path to self-perfection. Not just to have given, but to become a giver, and in this way to come closer to G-d, the ultimate giver. There is a Midrash (Mishlei 12) which says that "Anyone who goes to sleep thinking 'What favor can I do tomorrow for so-and-so?' is destined to rejoice with the righteous in Gan Eden." At first, it is hard to understand why there should be such a great reward for a mere intention. The meaning of the Midrash should now be clear, however, if we have understood the meaning of giving. Most people think about themselves, and the last thing on their minds at night is usually some personal business or pleasure just past or soon to come. Only one who devotes himself to acts of kindness, who has made it a part of himself, will merit such thoughts. His reward is not just for what he may or may not succeed in doing the next day; rather, it is for the kind of person he has already succeeded in becoming. by Rabbi Yisrael Rutman Recommended Reading Ahavath Chesed by The Chofetz Chaim (Feldheim Publishers) The Reichmans: Family, Faith, Fortune and the Empire of Olympia and York by Anthony Bianco (Times Books/Random House) 
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