Thinking About Charity on Black Friday
Generosity is at the heart of Christianity, Islam and Judaism.
By PETER J. RUBINSTEIN / Wall Street Journal
Nov. 24, 2016
Following a bruising presidential election, some Americans are afraid of the future. Others feel that the tumult of the campaign was necessary to disrupt business as usual. Multitudes feel that the country has lost its way, while just as many believe that the nation has finally found its footing. No doubt millions of people have witnessed these divisions at their own Thanksgiving feasts.
Many of us in the religious world wonder: How can we bridge this chasm and unify our body politic? How does the country close the fault line that divides the U.S. in half? Is it possible to stand for what we believe is right while still being civil toward the friends, family and neighbors who supported the “wrong” candidate? The way forward lies not in politics, but in something that binds us together as human beings: the simple act of giving to others.
Giving has long been invoked as a healing counterpoint to the darker sides of human nature. Tzedakah—the Jewish concept of donating at least 10% of one’s income to charity—comes from the Hebrew word for justice, or righteousness. Generosity is also at the heart of Christianity, and it is one of the five pillars of Islam.
Giving was a ritual at the heart of my grandfather’s faith. When he died, my father’s family discovered a drawer full of receipts in his home. Half of the receipts were from charities to which my grandfather had donated, and the other half from a moneylender. My grandfather, a poor tailor in New York, had borrowed money every Friday afternoon to fulfill the commandment of giving tzedakah before the Jewish Sabbath. He then repaid the debt the following week, once he had the money in his pocket.
Celebrating these ordinary moments of generosity will be critical to helping the nation heal. Instead of reducing people to voters for a particular cause, think of them instead as the family that serves in a soup kitchen; the teenager who volunteers to read to seniors; the couple who donate to their local house of worship; the community leader who brings together those from very different worlds.
In Judaism, we think of simple acts like these as tikkun ha-nefesh, the healing of a human’s soul in a time of need. We each have the power to make another person’s life better through acts of intentional kindness. We can feed them when they’re hungry, hug them when they’re hurting, stand by them when they’re afraid. Ordinary acts of generosity may not by themselves “heal” the country. But giving forces us to see others as human, regardless of differences.
A perfect opportunity to do this will come on GivingTuesday, which takes place this year on Nov. 29. This ritual was started by New York’s 92nd Street Y in 2012. After Black Friday and Cyber Monday, we could all benefit from a day that elevates the practice of giving during a season of significant commercialism. Individuals, families, organizations, businesses and communities in all 50 states and in countries around the world have come together to support and champion this day of giving.
Faith groups have played a role in GivingTuesday from the start. World Relief, which partners with local churches to help the vulnerable, is encouraging people to donate a welcome kit to a newly arriving refugee family. The iGiveCatholic campaign encourages the Catholic community to support hundreds of parishes, schools, ministries and not-for-profit organizations. United Muslim Relief is raising funds to provide 1,000 Syrian refugees with winter coats. The Associated, a Jewish philanthropic organization in Baltimore, is raising funds to provide food for the hungry and shelter for the homeless. The list goes on.
Americans won’t have resolved all their differences over turkey and stuffing. And as we continue to navigate and negotiate the country’s new political and social terrain, we should appeal to the most noble aspirations of America—and of religious thought.
We ought to hold fast to the kind of generosity and kindness that binds us together. Repairing the country, and the world, can best be done one soul at a time. It’s a good time to get on with it.
Rabbi Rubinstein is the director of Jewish community at the 92nd Street Y in New York City.
