This issue of Sh’ma Now is our first published with the Forward as a digital-only edition.
It’s serendipitous that the issue focuses on the Jewish sensibility of “n’div lev/generosity of the heart. As the ways of learning and accessing information change, and as we adapt to a more technology diverse and powerful world, one thing that remains the same is the essence of heartful giving and the multiple paths toward generosity: chesed and gimulut hasidim, lovingkindness and responding to an occasion of need; providing for the welfare of the less fortunate; donating tzedakah in ways big and small — anonymously or not; serving on a nonprofit board and offering one’s wisdom, time, and treasure; supporting the day school education of children who we do not know; helping to build a field of Jewish environmental education and experience devoted to reclaiming a sense of stewardship over the earth; making a Shabbat meal for one’s weary friends and family. As I considered the issue as a whole, and as I began soliciting essays for it, I spoke with
my friend and colleague in Berkeley, the masterful teacher Rabbi Dorothy Richman
about why generosity is described in the Torah with two words: n’div libo. Dorothy
described to me — and writes in her essay — that two words were required to “conjure
open-hearted giving… N’div comes from the root for volition…” and a second word, “lev,
means heart.” Dorothy goes on to write “No matter what we are giving materially, we are
really giving our hearts — our desire to contribute, to serve, to share from the gifts we
have received.”
We first encounter n’div lev in the building of the desert sanctuary, the mishkan, where
we learn that the Israelites were to bring materials according to “whose heart so moves
him… (n’div libo)” (Exodus 35:5). Donations to the Golden Calf hadn’t gone so well:
Why were the Israelites not given specific instructions about what and how much to
donate? I wondered about the element of choice and autonomy — back in the day when
personal autonomy wasn’t relished as it is today. To find out more, read Dorothy’s
essay.
To explore what motivates philanthropy and tzedakah, I asked Andrés Spokoiny,
president and CEO of Jewish Funders Network, to share his thoughts. He writes that
the “genius of our tradition of tzedakah, in all its rich complexity in Jewish texts and
history, is to provide a balance between the self’s needs (fulfilling religious obligations,
obtaining Divine forgiveness, and developing character) and communal needs (actually
helping people). It also balances proactive logic (like all Jewish law, tzedakah demands
systematic engagement) and reactive emotions such as generosity of the heart (n’div
lev) and gratitude (hakarat hatov), which are also discussed in texts about tzedakah.”
He goes on to explain that people “give charity for many and overlapping reasons: tax
advantages; social pressure (my friend asked me); ego (I want my name on a building);
enlightened self-interest (I know a society that helps the powerless will be more
prosperous and stable than a purely greedy society); admiration for particular leaders or
institutions; outrage at injustice; empathy for people suffering; passion for culture;
religious conviction; gratitude and a desire to give back; or countless other variations.” David Marchese, interviewing Melinda Gates for a “Talk” column in the New York Times
Magazine, writes that some ultrawealthy philanthropists now find themselves faced with
“increasing anti-elitism and skepticism about how much altruism as opposed to
ideological self-interest, motivates their work.” For those working in the field of
philanthropy, Andrés offers a digestible primer distinguishing between effective
altruism, which looks at problems that can be solved by philanthropy and strategic
philanthropy, where philanthropists support causes close to their hearts, finding
strategic and effective ways to address the particular issues. Read more.
I met with Gamal J. Palmer, a senior vice president of leadership development at the
Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles and founder and CEO of Global Eye
Entrepreneurs, at Kings Road Café, my favorite café to meet LA’s thought leaders. I
was looking for a discerning writer to examine the trajectory of nonprofit board
development — how nonprofits cultivate board growth in ways that both honor an
individual’s particular gifts and contribute to the growth and financial sustainability of the
organization. In building a board for Global Eye, Gamal sought out people who could
contribute wisdom, time, and eventually financial resources. He writes that “generosity
comes in many forms, and I learned to communicate that all contributions were dear to
the organization. I needed a board comprised of people with valuable skill sets,
expertise, wisdom, and now financial resources to ensure the nonprofit’s success.” As a
nonprofit develops, what types of people — and gifts — are needed to serve and guide
the organization toward growth? Read more.
In NiSh’ma, our simulated Talmud page, three commentators examine the proof-text for
this issue on generosity — and address the core question about community
membership and dues. The Book of Exodus (35:5) describes the Israelites’ gifts for the
building of the desert sanctuary, the mishkan: “everyone whose heart so moves him
shall bring gifts for the LORD: gold, silver, and copper.” Rabbi Dan Judson, author of
Pennies for Heaven: The History of American Synagogues and Money, uses the verse
to tap into the question of synagogue support — whether dues should be mandatory or
voluntary. Rabbi Ruhi Sophia Motzkin Rubenstein shares her synagogue’s story of
establishing a model of giving some amount based on one’s own calculations, and
David Goldman, an executive director of a large urban synagogue, shares his
experiences where voluntary dues failed to establish a sustainable model for this
synagogue. How do you weigh in on this debate — for a synagogue or any communal
structure: Should dues be set by an organization or should they be determined by the
individual as a voluntary contribution? Read more.
To consider how we might create a personal stance of generosity when the spirit
doesn’t move us, I asked Rabbi Jordan Bendat-Appell to write on the practice of
Jewish mindfulness. Mindfulness “is an approach of working intentionally and bringing
the qualities of honesty (emet) and lovingkindness (chesed) to bear on one’s moment-
by-moment experience.” Jordan shares a teaching from the prophet Ezekiel: “And I will
give you a new heart and put a new spirit into you: I will remove the heart of stone from
your body and give you a heart of flesh” (36:26). He goes on to write, “A heart of stone
is a cold and unempathetic heart that cannot emotionally respond to one’s fellow; a heart of stone is not capable of generosity. It is akin to the hardened heart of Pharaoh who would not let the Israelites leave Egypt.” Jordan goes on to teach that we can change a heart of stone to a softer “heart of flesh,” “lev basar.” He writes, “with the skills we build through mindfulness — self-awareness and working with breath and intention — we are able to actively relax and soften the tissues in our body, and then transform the feeling of a heart of stone into a heart of flesh.” Read more.
Our digital PDF of the issue includes “Consider and Converse,” our study guide with prompts for conversations with friends and family.
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B’vracha, Susan Berrin Sh'ma Now Editor-in-Chief |
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