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Combined Jewish Philanthropies The other day I had lunch with Barry Shrage, president of the Combined Jewish Philanthropies of Greater Boston (known as “CJP”). While speaking with him, I learned a remarkable fact. Only about thirty per cent (30%) of those who are members of congregations in the greater Boston area such as ours contribute to CJP. I was astounded to hear this. We live in the metropolitan area that is the envy of Jews across America. We have a strong, visionary, fiscally responsible, communal charitable institution that garners support from only 30% of the affiliated population!!! Clearly, something is wrong here. What’s wrong is that, somehow, synagogue members—those who presumably care about the Jewish community, Israel, and Jewish continuity—somehow, they are not translating that caring into support for CJP. (I don’t want to address the unique challenge of getting those who aren’t even affiliated to care enough to contribute to CJP; that’s a separate topic.) Why might this be? Jewish federations are often the butt of jokes. There’s that story about the two fellows who are shipwrecked and they end up on a desert island. One of them is rather frazzled; he’s running around the island, gathering wood, trying to start a fire, trying to find food. The other is relaxed. He’s sunning himself. “Why are you so laid back?” the first one asks. “Don’t worry,” the second one says. “I made a pledge to Federation that I haven’t yet paid up. They’ll find me.” One reason that even affiliated Jews don’t support a federation campaign could be that when many of us think about reaching beyond ourselves, when we thinking about supporting the Jewish community, we end up thinking very, very locally. We end up thinking about ourselves, and our needs, right now. When we join a shul, we think about supporting a shul. When we send our kids to the shul’s Hebrew School, we want it to be the very best, and we contribute to it. When we send our kids to a local day school, we think about supporting that day school. When a parent is admitted to a local home for the aged, we’ll support that home. If we’ve been out of work, and we’ve made use of the services of the Jewish Vocational Service, we may remember, and eventually contribute to it. But few of us, apparently, are thinking systemically. We’re not thinking of these institutions as part of a web, part of a network, a “safety net” so to speak, that has to be there, and has to be secure, to protect all of us. We’re not thinking that even if, say, we personally don’t need the services of Jewish Family & Childrens Service, it might be valuable for the community if it exists. We’re not thinking that, even if we might never step foot in the offices of the Bureau of Jewish Education (which, after all, is an agency whose direct consumers aren’t ordinary congregants, or the children of congregants, but those who run and teach in our community’s Jewish schools), its on-going support is vital to the community. Obviously, CJP has to make the case for itself. It has to put forth before the Jewish community just how well it’s doing its job. What I want to speak about is why all of us here as members of our synagogue should feel a sense of obligation to support communal institutions, and in particular CJP. There are fundamentally two reasons. The first is that CJP supports us. Over the years, CJP has directed tens of thousands of dollars—possibly as much as a hundred thousand dollars—I haven’t done the math—into our synagogue budget to support our programming. Only through their support (in conjunction with the efforts of the BJE) were we able to hire, over time, a full-time educational director. Only with their help were we able to hire our first youth director. Only with their help were we able to hire our Family Educator. CJP heavily subsidizes Meah, in which almost one hundred of our congregants have participated. The Passport to Israel program, in which hundreds of our young people have been enrolled, is a CJP-inspired initiative, and CJP annually contributes funds for this program. Why was I having lunch with Barry Shrage? It was to tell him about my experiences in Israel as a participant in the Hartman Center for Rabbinic Enrichment. As some of you know, I was selected to be a fellow in the Center, which provides me the opportunity to be in residence at the Institute, in Jerusalem, twice a year for three years. CJP provides funding for that participation. It’s pretty obvious that, as an institution, Temple Aliyah—indeed, every synagogue in the greater Boston area—has been remarkably enriched by CJP’s support. It’s only right, it’s only decent, for us to acknowledge that, and to help the organization that has been so instrumental in our success. That’s a self-centered, self-interested argument. If it works for you, fine. I don’t need to go any further. Just respond generously when you’re next solicited by CJP. But I do want to go further, because this is a sermon, and my message goes far beyond self-interest. One of the fundamental principles of Conservative Judaism is Klal Yisrael—Jewish Peoplehood. (I was recently told that “peoplehood” is not a word; be that as it may, “Jewish peoplehood” is!) We Jews are called upon to care about, and to care for, one another. It isn’t enough just to take care of ourselves. Our lives are incomplete if all we’re doing is taking care of our own. Judaism is a religion that reinforces this. As much as Judaism is a faith tradition that encourages individual spiritual acts, that encourages each and every one of us to develop our own individual religious spirit, and our own individual soul, it is also, as we know, a faith tradition very much tied up with the community. It’s the Jewish people’s experiences as a people that we connect with through the stories in the Bible, through our holidays, through our ritual practices. We are part of a great people, with a past, present, and future. Now, that’s why Jews form synagogues. Not only in order to create places where Jews can pray together, but where we can educate ourselves and our young ones, and where we can congregate; where we can learn about and situate ourselves within the context of the Jewish community. But the synagogue is itself only one manifestation of community. It must always point not just back to the self, but beyond, toward the greater communities of which we are a part: the Jewish people, as well of course, as the other communities in which we live, including of course the broadest community of all, the world-wide human community. In other words, the synagogue is not an institution set up to serve its members. It’s an institution set up to channel the need and the desire of its members to reach beyond themselves, to serve the greater good. The synagogue should be an instrument for Jews to express their caring and concern for others well beyond the boundaries of the shul. Now, of course, we do that. But when we look at how we do that, we are again reminded of CJP’s role. We support Family Table (which is run by JF&CS, a community agency subsidized by CJP.) We engage in other social action initiatives, such as the Literacy Project (which is run by JCRC, another community agency funded by CJP). We participate in Project Ezra, which is administered by the Synagogue Council, a beneficiary of CJP. Were we not to do any of those things, we would have reason to be ashamed of ourselves. But we couldn’t do half of what we do were it not for the initiative, the support, the on-going professional services provided, either directly or indirectly, by CJP. CJP is a so-called umbrella charitable organization. It raises funds for and distributes funds to a host of Jewish organizations. It came about as a result of the remarkable disorder that took place in the late 1800s and early 1900s, when each and every Jewish organization in town did its own fundraising, and therefore actively competed with one another. It would be a shame to go back to those days. There is so much more that we can accomplish together, than separately. Today’s parashah reinforces this message profoundly. At the beginning of Ki Tissa we learn that every Israelite had to give a half shekel to the community. Everyone has to reach into his or her pocket, and take out a shekel, and split it in two. Half we can keep, but half we should give to the community. A half a shekel is not a lot of money. It’s a token contribution. And yet only if we make that token contribution do we deserve to be a part of the community. Right now, some of us aren’t giving that half shekel, requiring the rest of us to give, by my calculation, one and a half shekels each. That’s not right. That’s not healthy. I would like to see the proportion of members of our congregation who contribute to CJP go up to 100%. Even if we only contribute a token amount, it’s extremely important. It’s only right, it’s only proper, and it’s the only way that we can demonstrate that we don’t just want to receive the benefits of being a part of this marvelous community we live in, but we want to contribute to it as well. Let’s contribute. Let’s count out those dollars, and let’s be counted and be counted upon to take our rightful place. |
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