The true spirit of tzedakah

EUGENE KAELLIS

Jews probably donate to social, educational and cultural causes proportionally far greater than most other ethnic groups, something that could not have occurred before the modern period when, in spite of all the horrific reverses they suffered, Jews were able to attain significant standing and wealth in states that offered them opportunities for advancement.

Although much philanthropy supports major cultural and artistic projects in countries having social safety nets, charity helps sustain those who have fallen through the net's ever-widening holes or to supplement the often meagre stipends they receive.

The Torah contains exhortations to be hospitable, but donations or alms are not specifically mentioned. What is found in Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy are prescribed practices: leaving fallen grapes for the poor, allowing them to gather whatever grew on land lying fallow every seven years and harvesting crops on the perimeters of planted fields. Moreover, help was supposed to be forthcoming for people in debt and penury, especially during holidays and the sabbatical year. Tzedakah, a word loosely used for charity, has its roots in the word for justice, indicating a greater obligation than that encompassed by mere assistance.

Along with the inhabitants of other developed countries, Canadians live in a semi-welfare state based on a system of relegated responsibility. We pay taxes so that the government has the means and apparatus to dispense aid in the form of social assistance for the poor, the handicapped and the disabled. This makes (mandated) "giving" impersonal and receiving a right, rather than a privilege dependent on the sentiments of presumed donors, which is often inconstant, biased and patronizing.

Taxpayers may assume the government has the means to weed out cheaters and malingerers from the system and is in a better position to determine how much the genuinely distressed need. But relegated responsibility bypasses personal involvement and makes social policy a political football.

Some people willingly assume personal responsibility because it provides them with the opportunity for mitzvot. My uncle Schmuel earned a minimal living as a chicken flicker in a kosher market. He lived with his family in a tiny old tenement apartment in New York City, yet an entire wall of the kitchen was covered with pushkes, each one containing coins he managed to put aside for the benefit of others even less fortunate. Proportionally, his charity was greater than Rothschild's.

Which leads to the question of motives. Uncle Schmuel never got a receipt for filling his pushkes, but it didn't matter, since he never earned enough to file a tax return. Whatever the reason, he simply gave. Uncovering motives is at all times difficult: one can only speculate. Perhaps this is why Maimonides devised a system – a ladder of charity, not to determine motives, but to guide action. The lowest level was for giving grudgingly. Then, rising rung by rung (a total of eight), the highest level was giving before the recipient became impoverished and, preferably, to offer assistance that would help improve his or her condition more or less permanently. The next-to-highest level was one in which neither the giver nor the receiver knew each other's identity.

What Maimonides clearly meant is that donors, as well as receivers, derive something from charity, something enhanced and made more genuine when total anonymity was observed. Only the giver and God knew. Even so, it's hard to have purity of motive.

Then there is the question of donating body parts. On one hand, a religion-based tradition opposes post-mortem donation of organs. On the other is the bedrock Judaic belief in the perpetuation of life. Not dependent on wealth, organ donation is almost universally possible. The disagreement over its practice (like the disagreement over cremation) is an issue that deserves more examination by the Jewish community. Organ donation fulfils one of the more exalted criteria of Maimonides: neither the donor nor recipient know each other.

Over the past several decades, a new feature has entered the charity protocol. It is doing something difficult or even demeaning to raise money for a cause. A school principal in Ontario was reported to have eaten tadpoles, as he had promised, when the students in his school exceeded their summer reading goal. Parents have shaved their heads, again as promised, after their then highly motivated children accomplished some difficult learning feat. This device cheerfully and perhaps thoughtlessly introduces an element, however benign, of sado-masochism into the charity equation. Well, who knows? As the Bible points out, good things can come from bad and bad things can come from good.

So people run and, as every Canadian knows from the exploits of Terry Fox and others, they may even crawl, limp or hobble for a worthy cause. For years after their often-painful exertions, runners will wear T-shirts marking them as having participated in this or that effort, obviously a source of pride.

Some years ago, I wrote a satiric play centred on this theme. The play revolved around a parade in which young men walked on a glass-covered treadmill, then left bloody footprints on T-shirts to be sold for charity. Ulcer sufferers, writhing with pain, ate slice after slice of pepperoni pizza. Epileptics were exposed to adjusted frequency strobe lights until they lapsed into grand mal seizures. The gouty as they paraded were tripped by enterprising youngsters using hockey sticks. And the onlookers, intrigued and fascinated by the spectacle, gave.

Why should we pledge money only if someone agrees to perform a painful or difficult task? Why should people have to suffer or exert themselves before we give? Jews, it should be pointed out, do not believe in vicarious atonement. Can't we find better, nobler, more personal, less competitive and less public means to assist others? That would mean we would put helping first, not competing, not exerting, not nurturing our own pride. Perhaps we should try "Maimonidizing" charity.

Dr. Eugene Kaellis is a retired academic living in New Westminster.

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