Blueprint for Charitable Giving

Over the years I’ve devoted two blogs to the topic of charitable giving and how much of our time and money should be spent helping those in need, a concept I often wrestle with.  (One could argue that if I spent as much time giving as I do wrestling with the question of how much I should give, I’d be a much better person!)   In my writings I referred to the Jewish concept of tithing, the “upper limit” concept of the Babylonian Talmud and the New Testament reading of the Good Samaritan, but I’ve never walked away from these investigations with a clear-cut sense of what I should be doing to help others – only that I should be doing more.

Well, leave it to a pastor to help clarify things.  As I’ve discussed in previous posts, I get a double dose of religion as I occasionally attend Friday night services at synagogue and regularly attend Sunday morning services at a Presbyterian church where I play piano.  Once again, I’ve concluded that the applicable teachings of Sundays often trump the intellectual teachings of Fridays.  At Elmhurst Presbyterian last Sunday, Pastor Lyda offered a concept of giving so obvious that I had a hard time not uttering the words “well, duh!” out loud.  Ready?  Here it is:

Give to others as much as you spend on entertainment for yourself.

How simple is that?  

On the surface, it’s straightforward.  If you spend $30 on a movie, allocate $30 to a charity or other cause that’s in need of money.  

Ah, but what do we consider entertainment?  If you think about it, much of what we spend could fall into this category: electronics, cable, Netflix, internet, sports events, concerts, amusement parts, going out to eat, hobbies, junk food, parties, presents, timeshares or second homes, alcohol, coffee, cigarettes.  Last year, my family did what it had never done before: spent a great deal of money (for us) on an all-inclusive vacation to Mexico.  Clearly, this falls under the category of entertainment, but a vacation of this magnitude would have to be looked at twice if the cost suddenly doubled to include an equal amount for charity.

Still, I think it makes sense.

The hard-core rationalist might find a way to avoid matching the cost of most of the aforementioned categories.  A cycling hobby could be placed under a health category instead of entertainment, or an internet bill could be listed as a necessity. But look at what you spend your money on, and I think you’ll conclude that much of it is inessential.

As we head toward the holiday season, spend some time taking a close look at what you spend on yourself and your family, and consider matching it for those in need.  It might do two things: raise your awareness for just how blessed you are, and offer some assistance to make the world a better place. 

How Good Do We Have to Be?

Several years ago a friend of mine said to me: “I don’t believe in heaven, but if there is one, I think I’m going.”  I loved how self-assured he was despite his obvious flaws, and wish I could go through life with as much confidence, not because I’m worried about an after-life, but because I want to believe that I’m doing “enough” for my fellow man (and environment) while still being able to enjoy my indulgences. 

For me, I’m constantly wrestling with the question: how good do I have to be?  I don’t mean “how good” of the self-help variety, a la Stuart Smalley’s daily affirmations on SNL as depicted by Al Franken.   I really mean, “Okay, so how good do I have to be so that I can spend time doing things I really want to do, and do them with a clear conscience?”  If this question seems rather seedy, I’ll conceded that point, but ask that you hear me out (and bear with me as I lean on religious teachings).

The very fact that I’m asking this question probably deflates some of the good I do.  In Judaism, there are eight levels of charitable giving according to Maimonides, and the worst is giving grudgingly.  So now, on the days when I dread going to a nearby homeless shelter because I’d rather stay at home and watch football, not only do I walk away feeling like I haven’t done enough, I feel like what I’ve done isn’t even worthy.  Say it with me: oy!

Monetarily, Judaism offers straightforward guidelines, as there’s both a minimum (10 percent of one’s net income) and a maximum:

One who wishes to donate (generously) should not give more than a fifth of his income, lest he himself come to be in need of charity. (-Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 50a)

Of course, there’s really nothing easy about donating 10 percent of one’s income, so the maximum is probably irrelevant for most people, but one could just as easily apply this “upper limit” logic to volunteering and perhaps give credence to the idea that there’s a point at which someone’s done enough to help others.

Without delving into specifics, I volunteer and donate here and there, and sometimes I feel pathetically proud: “Well, wasn’t that nice of me?”  It feels good to mentally check the box “volunteer one’s time” so that I can enjoy the rest of my day (week? month?) without the nagging feeling that I’m not contributing enough to the care of others.  But of course, the reality is that I could always do more.  Much more.

So how much is enough?

Well, if the story of the Good Samaritan from the New Testament is any indication, probably a lot more than what I’m currently doing.  (I get a double dose of religion many weekends by attending synagogue on Friday and then hearing a Sunday morning sermon at the Presbyterian Church where I play piano.  This allows me to feel doubly inadequate.)  In this story, a lawyer asks Jesus what he needs to do to receive eternal life, and when Jesus asks the man what the law says, he answers in part, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself.”  Jesus tells him, “You are right.  Do this and you will live.”  But then the lawyer asks, “Who is my neighbor?”

Ah ha!  Well, this gets more complicated.  I suggest you read Luke 10:25-37 for the whole story, but the short answer to the question is: everyone is your neighbor!

Oh goodness.  This is where the anxiety starts creeping in.  In this day and age of unlimited information about every ailment and calamity facing people all around the world, one could hardly blame a well-intentioned person from becoming so overwhelmed with charitable possibilities that he’s not even able to buy a coffee or a beer without sinking into a hole of self-hatred, like Steven Spielberg’s Oscar Schindler on steroids: “This coffee!  Instead of buying this coffee, I could have fed a family an entire meal!  Instead of watching this baseball game, I could have volunteered at a homeless shelter!”

So how good do we have to be?  Harold Kushner wrote a book with this exact question as its title, but he doesn’t really talk about what’s required of each of us when it comes to helping others.  He discusses familial relationships and acceptance for one’s failings.  That’s all well and good.  But the reality is that as I write this blog that maybe fifty people will read, I could be delivering food or mentoring a child.  I might already be doing those things, but shouldn’t I do more?  If yes, how much more?  Can I spend a day writing without thinking that I could have done something nobler with my time?  If yes, can I spend two days?  Three days?  Four?  Can and buy myself a $400 bass amp (as I did last week) without thinking that my money could have (should have?) gone to a nobler purpose?  How about a $1000 guitar?  A $2000 keyboard?  I already own two keyboards, you say?  So why would I need another?  Wow, have you got a lot to learn about musicians.

Look, for me, these are not easy questions, and there are no easy answers.  I suspect I’ll never be as content as my friend who believes he’s a shoo-in for the ultimate reward, and maybe that’s a good thing.  Maybe by questioning what I’m doing I make better choices here and there that lead to the betterment of others. 

I sometimes play piano at funerals for people who – by the accounts of their loved ones – have done remarkable things:  formed foundations, served on every society known to man, volunteered for every cause, and I leave these funerals feeling partly depressed and partly inspired: depressed because I haven’t done enough and inspired because I see what people are capable of.

So maybe that’s the answer.  How good do we have to be?  Better than we are, but less than perfect.

Taking Wisdom Where It's Found

Whether you’re Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Jew, agnostic or atheist (or something else altogether), it never hurts to find a bit of wisdom to enhance your life.   Whether it’s little nuggets of Eastern philosophy from a book like The Toa of Pooh, the guidance of Richard Carlson’s Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff books (25 million copies sold), or words of sacred texts – so often espoused but so rarely read (or applied) – I find that taking wisdom wherever it’s offered is best.

For the past three years, I’ve been playing piano for a Presbyterian church and have been pleased to learn a great deal despite my not being a Presbyterian or, for that matter, a Christian.  No matter.  A good message is a good message, and when left in the capable hands of a supremely gifted preacher, all the better.

Two recent lessons in particular jolted me out of my every-day slumber, one from the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament, if you will) and one from the New Testament. 

In 1 Kings 17: 7-16, Elijah asks a widow for bread and, after being told that she only has enough flour and oil for her and her son, instructs her to make a small loaf for him first, and then for her and her son.  For the remainder of his stay, the flour and oil don’t run out – there’s enough to provide for all three of them.

This could be interpreted a few ways, no doubt, but the story was summarized nicely by Pastor Lyda with the following message: “Entrust what you have to God, and trust that God will provide for you.”  If you’d rather leave God out of this, you could say instead, “Entrust what you have to helping others, and trust that what you need will be provided.”  Either way, the message is the same: don’t wait until you have “enough” – whatever that means – before you give to others. 

This, to me, is huge.  It’s very easy to get caught up in the trap of “waiting until…”  I’ll wait to give to charity until after I graduate from college.   Until after I pay off my student loans.  Until after I get out of this shabby apartment.  Until after I buy a home.  Until after I fill my home with stuff.  Until after my wedding.  Until after the kids are a little older.  Until after we save enough for college (and trust me – you’ll never save enough).  Until after I get a promotion.  Until after we take our vacation.  After, after, after…

In Judaism, even the poorest among us are instructed to give to the needy, and instead of the word charity, Jews use the word Tzedakah, meaning justice or righteousness.  In other words, giving to the needy isn’t a good thing to do: it is a moral obligation.  It’s easy to delay this moral obligation until everything in your life is going just the way you want it to, but we’ve been told not to fall into this trap.  Give.  If you can’t give much money, give your time and your kindness.  Mentor a child.  Teach English to an immigrant.  Feed a hungry person or deliver food for Meals on Wheels.  Help write a resume for someone looking for work.   Play music for hospital patients or senior residents.  Clean the linens of a homeless shelter.  There is no shortage of needs.  If we wait to give until everything is just perfect, we may find that we keep moving the line since perfection is never achieved.

Switching to a different lesson from the New Testament, both Luke 12:34 and Matthew 6:21 state “For where your treasure is, there your heart will also be.”  I love this.  Wherever we put our time, our effort, our money – that’s where our heart is.  To me, this is just another way of saying, “What we do is more important than what we say.”  If you put all your energy into following sports, then that’s where your heart is.  If you put all your time and effort into your job, then that’s where your heart is.  If you find that your efforts aren’t in synch with your heart, it’s probably time to reevaluate your life.  And really, that means it’s time for almost all of us to reevaluate our lives, likely on a daily basis.

These two bits of wisdom happen to come from old sacred texts, but they could just as easily have come from a fortune cookie or a Saturday morning cartoon.  Doesn't matter as long as you use it and apply it.

How Good do we Have to Be?

While my family endeavors to single-handedly revive the economy this holiday season with frivolous gifts, and while we attempt to meet our charitable goals for the calendar year, a question keeps entering my mind: how good do we have to be?  Can we spend money on unnecessary items knowing that it could instead improve or even save another’s life?  Should we in effect take a vow of poverty, agreeing to forgo any of our own pleasures while others are in need?  If not, where do we draw the line?  How much should we devote to helping others while we pursue our own security and interests?

I suspect that a couple of hundred years ago giving was easy.  Living in the relative isolation of a small farming town in Europe, a charitable person would probably have given to their church or synagogue, nearby families enduring hardship, and the local beggar.  They you’d have it.  You’d be good to go.

Nowadays, when the woes of the entire world make headlines daily, it’s impossible to confine your giving to local needs without wondering about the atrocities occurring half a world away.  There is always more to do.  In 1800, a tsunami in Japan would hardly have been a concern for a person living in America.  Today, it’s another tug on our consciences.

Or at least some of our consciences.  A woman I met in 1995 said to me once, “Charity starts at home.”  The problem is, for many people, that’s exactly where charity ends.

A recent article in the Sacramento Bee discussed charitable giving and highlighted the One Percent Foundation, an organization whose members give one percent of their annual income on-line and vote for a cause quarterly to donate to.  They attract young adults primarily – those still in school or still paying off student loans and getting their career paths set – and while it’s a nice start to be sure, one would hope that it instills a habit of lifelong giving that grows as incomes rise, because one percent hardly seems enough.

Mitt Romney’s run for the White House this year highlighted the Mormon Church’s practice of tithing, whereby 10% of one’s income is devoted to the church.  This is similar to the tithing Jews set into law in the Torah, but after the Temple was destroyed, Jewish tithing was amended to giving at least 10 percent of net earnings to helping those in need.  This is somewhat ironic, since in fifteen years of attending Shabbat services, I've rarely heard that tithing is a goal Jews should be aspiring to.  By contrast, the Presbyterian church where I’ve played piano for the last year has already devoted a sermon on tithing and how we are not doing nearly enough to help those in need.

Then there are the mega-wealthy – Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, and the like – who’ve committed to The Giving Pledge, a promise for billionaires to give at least 50 percent of their wealth to charity in their lifetime or after.  Nice, I suppose, but not nearly as charitable as my 10 year-old son would be in similar circumstances.  I was overcome with pride last summer when he concluded that if we won the lottery, we should keep about ten percent and give the rest away.  I couldn’t agree more.

But we are not lottery winners.  We are people living comfortably but who have a mortgage, three college educations and a retirement to consider.  And we like to have fun.  Did we really need to buy five tickets to see “War Horse” in Chicago?  After all, if we’d instead donated that money to Feed My Starving Children, we could have fed a meal to 2045 people.  How can three hours of entertainment be justified?

This isn’t a no-brainer, but being human has always encompassed so much more than giving.   Education.  Art.  Beauty.  Creating.  Athletics.  Family.  Friendships.  Community.  Should we really forego great architecture and resort to concrete structures because there are people in need?  Should we stop commissioning sculptures, painting and symphonies?  Are movies and sports luxuries we should no longer succumb to? 

It’s comforting to know that smarter minds than ours have struggled over the years with these questions.  For my money, the most reasonable conclusion comes from the Babylonian Talmud.  It states: “One who wishes to donate generously should not give more than a fifth of his income, lest he himself come to be in need of charity.”  This might not cover the billionaires of today, but it could be a good guideline for the rest of us: try to contribute ten percent of one’s net earnings, and, if possible, up to another ten percent.

Either way, how good do we have to be?  Probably a whole lot better than we’ve been.