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Home
and Family
Raising the Dough
by Adina Hershberg
I find it difficult to ask people for money, but when it is
for the sake of a mitzvah, then Hashem gives me the
inner resources (no pun intended) to approach people for
charity. For example, I was on a committee to organize an
annual Chinese auction, whose proceeds go for helping out
indigent brides. I volunteered to be in charge of the prize
committee. I asked just about everyone I knew, or didn't
know, about offering a free service or prize. I even called
up my babysitters and asked them if they would donate free
time. My husband would joke that if anyone I knew saw me
during this period, they would cross the street!
One day at the supermarket, I ran into someone with whom I
had volunteered when we were both single as counselors on
Shabbos programs for not-yet-religious Jewish youth. He told
me he was in the food importing business. Losing no time, I
made my pitch about the Chinese auction, and he immediately
offered prizes running into hundreds of dollars. Ever since
then, he has continued to donate cases of American-made
kosher food to the Chinese auction.
Another time, over a decade ago, my neighbor Malka, who runs
an organization which helps single mothers and their
children, asked me if I had any rich relatives or friends
whom I could approach for funds. I told Malka that I would
see if I could come up with something. After mulling it over
for a while, I thought of a wealthy great-aunt who lived in
New York. I wrote her a letter in which I described how this
organization helps widows, divorced women and their children.
Malka was attempting to raise $11,000 for a four- day summer
vacation for these families.
One Friday afternoon, my husband Abe came home with a letter
and a check from my great-aunt for Malka's group. I glanced
at the check and I read $1,100. Not bad. I read the letter
which my aunt had written and it went something like this:
"We have our usual charities that we give to, including the
school for fashion and design that we founded in Israel, so
the only reason I'm sending a check is because you asked me,
Adina." I looked at the check again and I saw $11,000!
Several years ago, I had a humbling experience. A friend's
mother was sitting shivah for a sister. Even though
the parents don't really know me well, I decided to pay a
visit. I went to their apartment with our youngest child at
the time. Usually, a mourner's front door is open and one
comes in without expecting someone to "let" him in. Since my
friend's parents are yekkies and very proper, and as
the door had no sign on it nor was it ajar, I decided to
knock. My friend's father opened the door and handed me a few
coins; not remembering me, he assumed that I was collecting
for myself. The degrading feeling gave me a window into the
feelings of those who do collect for themselves . . . I have
been very involved with gathering funds for a friend who is
single and very ill with cancer. It does not come naturally
to me to make a public appeal. (One of the reasons that I
chose casework in social work school over group work and
community work is because of my loathing of public speaking.)
But the knowledge that a friend or a certain cause needs help
and that Hashem is on my side are strong motivators to
overcome my shyness.
Hashem seems to lead me to situations in which fundraising is
needed. One morning, I found myself in Jerusalem needing a
place to daven. I approached a woman who was wheeling
a stroller with a baby and a little girl walking by her side.
Upon hearing my request she replied, "I think that all the
women's sections of the synagogues are locked, but you can
daven where I work."
She took me to her place of work — a soup kitchen that
provides a daily hot meal to poor Jews who are often lonely
as well. After showing me to the dining area, a small area
with tables, chairs, refrigerators and freezers, she left to
take her older child to nursery school and her baby to a
sitter. I was still praying when she returned, and she went
straight to work in the adjoining kitchen. When I had
finished, I went into the kitchen where she was busy
preparing a meal with two other workers. I asked her where I
could leave a contribution and she gave me a pushke
into which I put some money. One worker asked if I had
contacts in the United States who might be able to help the
soup kitchen. I asked if they had a brochure and I was given
information in several languages. I took it, hoping I might
be able to raise some money from relatives while at a summer
family reunion in the U.S.
One week of the Hershberg Family reunion was in the Catskill
Mountains. I had arranged for my uncles and aunts (on my
mother's side) to come to see us at the hotel. I awaited them
in the lobby with the soup kitchen pamphlets at hand. At the
other end of the sitting area sat a group of people who
seemed rich. There were some older women and two middle- aged
men. I didn't try to eavesdrop, but the volume of their
voices was turned on high and I couldn't help overhearing
talk about a million dollar deal. There was nothing Jewish in
their exchanges. When my husband came by to check if my
uncles and aunts had arrived, I mentioned to him that the
people across from us seemed to be rich. I mentioned that it
would be great if I could get money from them for the soup
kitchen. But how could I break into their conversation and
start talking about tzekodah? I prayed a short
request that Hashem give me an "in." Seconds later, the
direction of the conversation shifted. The outspoken middle-
aged man suddenly said, "Every few months, I send a check to
a place that helps the blind. If I had more money I'd give
them 20 million dollars. I'd like to see (no pun intended I'm
sure) to it that all the blind people have seeing-eye dogs."
I had witnessed Hashem's immediate response to my short
prayer and with that cue, I rose and started giving my pitch
for the soup kitchen. I handed each one of them a brochure,
and later on I gave my relatives brochures as well.
Recently I read an article about people who fundraise full-
time. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes. I can think of
much easier professions. Many of them are on the road for
months at a time. The separation from their families is very
difficult. Not everyone gives, and there are givers who do
not do it with a smile. On the other hand, there are people
who give generously and with a smile. I recently heard a
Torah lecture by Rabbi Mordechai Perlman, who presented an
important idea which should help all of those involved in
Torah fundraising. In 1953, Rabbi Perlman's grandfather went
to see the Brisker Rav in order to get a letter for his
fundraising efforts in the fight against missionary activity
in Israel. The Brisker Rav asked him, "Why, in Parshas
Trumah, where Moshe asks the Jews for donations for the
mishkon, does Hashem say, ' . . . that they `take' for
Me an offering'? Should it not read, ' . . . that they give
Me an offering'? The S'forno comments that Hashem is telling
Moses to appoint collectors to take the donations. Jews are
generous. They need someone who is willing to collect. If
there are people collecting, there will be people willing to
give."
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