When the Big Spenders Fail, Who Will Save Jewish Charity?

[question everything]

When the Big Spenders Fail, Who Will Save Jewish Charity?

By LUCETTE LAGNADO
WSJ

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The pain is being felt especially intensely in philanthropic circles, which may never fully recover. Some Jewish nonprofits -- such as the Robert Lappin Foundation, which tried to enhance Jewish identity among the young; the Picower Foundation, which funded assorted Jewish medical and cultural causes; and the Chais Family Foundation, which promoted, among other endeavors, educational excellence in Israel -- have shut down. Several large institutions, Hadassah and the American Jewish Congress among them, have been seriously wounded. Then there is the blow to the community's sense of self -- the confidence and prosperity that enabled it to build magnificent houses of worship, Jewish day schools that rivaled the finest secular ones and, more recently, charities with impressively large endowments.

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But all of that has changed in the era of the megadonor. Some of these wealthy individuals created their own Jewish foundations and philanthropies. "There are people out there who can write six-, seven- and, in some cases, eight-figure checks," says Mark Charendoff, who heads the Jewish Funders Network. His organization, founded 19 years ago, now has some 400 member foundations and individual donors who give out more than $800 million annually to causes that are either Jewish or rooted in Jewish values. Thanks to Mr. Madoff, Jewish charity may have to return to its roots, becoming once again a widespread communal effort, instead of being concentrated in a few powerful hands.

But would that really be so bad? I don't have a great solution to the Madoff problem or to the damage that it has wrought. I have a more limited suggestion: I would like to see the comeback of the pushke -- the little collection box that was once in every Jewish home. To be sure, I don't want Jewish charities to suffer; it is simply that in our post-Madoff universe I find myself longing for the kind of more humble, more individual tzedakah, or personal charity, that took place before the rise of the uber-Jewish foundations and zillionaire philanthropists.

There was a time when every Jewish family was expected to have a pushke. It was part of a simple and deeply felt tradition of individual giving that called for everyone, even little children, to donate some coins as a show of faith and a commitment to charity. My own home had multiple boxes, and every once in a while, typically on a Sunday, a rabbi would appear to collect the contents and we would start again. I recall how good it felt when, as a child, I dropped a quarter or a dime into the pushke on Friday afternoon before the Sabbath. I loved the feel of the box when it was full. When I walked on the streets of Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, then a very Jewish area, I would sometimes see women in the street shaking their boxes for favorite causes.

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It would be lovely to see the return of little checks -- the donations everyone could afford to give and often did. Neither they nor the pushkes require the fund-raising galas and the elaborate administrative structures that have become the norm across the Jewish charitable world. Some Jewish leaders may blanch at my words. Prof. Wertheimer notes that "Jewish organizational life has become much more expensive -- nickels, dimes and pushkes aren't going to do it." Though Mr. Kane at the UJA and others now hint at new strategies to broaden the donor base, some Jewish leaders are ready to return to business as usual, sending the message that we must get in some big checks to replace the money that was lost. But this scandal makes me wish we could remember the values of our shtetl and think small again.

Ms. Lagnado is a reporter for the Journal.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB123024310766834039.html (subscription, I think)