top of page

Turning Charity into Tzedakah

My mailbox is overflowing this time of year. There are the holiday cards from friends near and far, the packages, mostly addressed to my son, stuffed into the mailbox or left on the doorstep. And the solicitations from charities – so many requests for donations. They’re all fighting for our attention: Big red letters cry “Urgent” across the front of the envelopes. Some include gifts, like the greeting cards or calendars that are meant to make us feel obligated to give something in return. Others try to masquerade as personal letters, with notes from the director of the organization printed to look like handwriting. This is the season of giving, and, as always, we have limited resources for a seemingly infinite number of causes. So how do we decide where and how much to give? You will not be surprised to hear that Jewish tradition has a lot to teach us about this common problem.


First, Judaism is unequivocal about the obligation to give. The word “charity” comes from the Latin word meaning “love” or “compassion,” but the Hebrew word “tzedakah” shares its root with the word “tzedek,” which means “justice” or “righteousness.” In other words, tzedakah isn’t just an act of kindness, it’s an act of justice. The traditional understanding for why giving tzedakah is an obligation is that God is the source of our wealth and has commanded us to give part of it to the needy. Not to give tzedakah is then, in effect, to steal from God. Put another way, as the Talmud does, the one who refuses to give charity is like an idolater (Ket. 68a). She has made money into her god. This is why everyone is obligated to give tzedakah, even those who receive it. It is an act of piety and spiritual commitment.


Jewish law has guidelines for how much to give and how to give: we are supposed to donate at least 10 percent of our income, but no more than 20 percent – the sages were worried that some extremely pious people might give too much away and become destitute themselves, though I’m not sure that happens very often. Ideally, we are meant to help those in need in a way that preserves their dignity, like offering them a job or a loan, or donating anonymously. Jewish law is also practical, aiming to ensure that tzedakah is collected and distributed honestly and fairly. Only respected, trusted members of the community were selected to be in charge of the communal tzedakah collection, and care was taken to make sure that no one could suspect them of misusing funds. 


There are also laws about how to determine who should receive our tzedakah. In general, there are two principles that guide how we give: proximity and need. Jewish law suggests that we have concentric circles of responsibility, beginning with those who are closest to us and radiating outward.  As the Talmud teaches, we should give first to our own family members, then to the residents of our city, and then to the residents of other cities (BT Bava Metzia 71a). It makes sense that we have a greater obligation to those who are closest to us. Our intuition is driven, in part at least, by self-interest.  My happiness and well-being are tied up with the happiness and well-being of those I love and live with, so naturally I am more inclined to give to them first.  But today, when our communities aren’t as close-knit, when we don’t know everyone else in town and don’t necessarily feel connected to others just because they also live in our neighborhood or our city, the law of “take care of those in your own city” is a challenge to us.  Imagine if every time we passed a homeless person on the street, instead of thinking, “Poor guy” or “So sad” or “Gosh I hate seeing homeless people” we thought, “He is my neighbor– I’ve got to do something about this!”  How would that realization change the way we use our resources or the way we participate in our local community and government?


Besides proximity, the other guiding principle is, of course, need. The Chatam Sofer, a nineteenth-century commentator, explains, “[I]f the poor of your city have what they need to live, but just don’t have any extra money [and the poor of the other city don’t have food or clothing], then the poor of the other city take precedence over the poor of your city, for the neediest takes precedence.” The Sages understood the urgency of feeding the hungry above all other concerns. That’s why under normal circumstances, Jewish law suggests that we should investigate a request for tzedakah before giving to ensure that the recipient is deserving, but if someone says, “I’m hungry, please feed me,” we are to feed them immediately, without further question or investigation. This law is meant, first of all, to preserve life. We would never want a hungry person to have to wait for a meal while we do a background check. But it’s also to protect us against the very human tendency to justify our tightfistedness. It is too easy to avoid giving charity by convincing ourselves that the person isn't really in need or is just going to misuse the money we give. As Rebbe Chaim of Sanz warns, "Some people act as if they are exempt from giving charity to one hundred beggars in the event that one might be a fraud."  


So, in the end, Jewish tradition teaches: give to those who are nearest and to those who are neediest. Give as wisely as we can, give as respectfully as we can, but a

bove all, give. If we consider these principles as we make our charitable donations, we turn a good deed into a mitzvah in its truest sense.  Charity becomes tzedakah: a spiritual practice, a religious obligation, and a fulfillment of the mission of the Jewish People.  As the prophet Isaiah reminds us: 

...this is the fast I desire: 

…It is to share your bread with the hungry,

And to take the wretched poor into your home; 

When you see the naked, to clothe him, 

And not to ignore your own kin.” (58:6-7)

Because whether we give to those across the globe or right here in our own neighborhood, we recognize that ultimately, they’re all our own kin.

 

_______________________________________________________________________


 
 

Temple Beth Torah is a proud member of the Union for Reform Judaism. We are a welcoming and diverse congregation, open to all.

Visit us:

42000 Paseo Padre Parkway
Fremont CA 94539

510.656.7141
engage@bethtorah-fremont.org

tbt_logo_2inch_edited.jpg

Office Hours:

Saturday - CLOSED​
Sunday -   CLOSED

Monday -  CLOSED

Tuesday - Friday 9am to 2pm

urj_edited.jpg
Maps Icon for Footer.jpg
  • Facebook
  • YouTube
bottom of page