Rabbi Alexis Berk

Rosh Hashanah 5771 

Give ‘Til it Hurts (a Little)

I remember the first time that I personally wanted to do something drastic about the imbalance of wealth and abundance in the world. I was about eight and an ad for a world children’s organization that would feed a child for twenty five cents a day. I had 25 cents a day! I could use my lunch money and pack a lunch. I could do this. I remember getting out my piggy bank and going to the desk to get some envelopes. Then, my parents told me it was kind of a scam, and that we couldn’t really be sure those children would receive my money. Plus, you can’t send coins to Africa in an envelope. Really? How truly disappointing.

The next big moment came by mid-twenties, as a freshly ordained rabbi. In Nashville we had an ecumenical, interfaith Thanksgiving service, like we do here in New Orleans. Every year, a member of the clergy would take a turn giving the sermon. I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t even remember the name of the pastor who preached that year – which really is too bad, what with the fact that he changed my life and all.

There he stood, on the pulpit of the large, mega-church in which we were all gathered. He started talking about giving of ourselves, making room in our hearts and lives for those in need, blah, blah, blah. Then, the sermon took a turn for the very intense. He recommended giving so much of ourselves that we actually felt it, personally. He said we should give until our lives are changed by the giving. Not just changed in that feel-good way that lasts a moment or an hour or a day. Changed because we gave so much that change was an inevitable consequence of the giving.

Bob and I were married very young. At the time that we got engaged, he knew that I had fantasies about getting one of those fancy diamond rings like some women have. He scraped together all of his savings and bought me a very beautiful diamond ring, which was nice of him.

And, there we sat, a few years later, listening to this preacher. And, afterwards, when we were driving home, I told Bob I wanted to sell my diamond ring. There is really no need to be walking around with this on my hand, while there are people without clean drinking water and lifesaving vaccinations. When everyone has enough food and basic medical care, we can discuss how to best adorn one of my fingers. Until then, it is just not right.

Bob recommended I think about it for a few days, and we should revisit it.

Meet the Salwen family, if you don’t already know them:

“It all started when fourteen-year-old Hannah Salwen had a eureka moment. Seeing a homeless man in her neighborhood at the same moment she spotted a man driving a glistening Mercedes, she said, ‘Dad if that man had a less nice car, that man there could have a meal….”

The Salwens begin their story like this: “Our family is a fairly typical Atlanta foursome: two baby boomers (Joan and Kevin) and two teenagers (Hannah and Joseph). Our days consist of the standard American life – school, work, and youth sports.  For more than a decade we aspired to the usual ‘stuff’: new cars, a spacious home, nice vacations. Sure we took on the occasional volunteer activity, feeding the homeless and building Habitat for Humanity houses, but largely we were consumed by our careers and enhancing our lifestyle though bigger, newer, better. We were focused on us….Then our life took an amazing turn. Prodded by Hannah, who at fourteen had become increasingly upset about the imbalance of opportunities in the world, we launched an audacious family project. We decided to sell our 6,500-square-foot landmark home, move to a nondescript house that was half as big, and donate half of the sales price to help alleviate poverty in one of the neediest corners of the planet.”[1]  This project, now known to the world through their book The Power of Half, is an inspiring story of lives lived with focused intention, a bit of sacrifice, and a great deal of purpose.

But, this isn’t the only powerful story to this effect. Bill Gates and Warren Buffet have hatched a similar, but even more chutzpadik plan called the Giving Pledge. They brainstormed this one night over dinner.

“The Giving Pledge is an effort to invite the wealthiest individuals and families in America to commit to giving the majority [that means over half] of their wealth to the philanthropic causes and charitable organizations of their choice either during their lifetime or after their death.

Each person who chooses to pledge will make this statement publicly, along with a letter explaining their decision to pledge. At an annual event, those who take the pledge will come together to share ideas and learn from each other.”[2]

Nice, right?

But, most of us are not billionaires. (If you are, please see me after the service). Most of us don’t have 6,500 sq. foot homes to sell for a hefty profit. Maybe some of us have some valuable stuff we could hock – like our wedding rings or things like that. Is that what we should do?

            How about this, from the NY Times, July 21, 2010 -

“IMAGINE that horrible though all-too-familiar feeling: You are standing before a fully stuffed closet and yet have nothing to wear.

Now, imagine something worse: Your closet contains only six items, and you are restricted to wearing only those six items for an entire month. Now, if you can bear it, imagine something unspeakable: No one notices.

Nearly a month into what amounted to just such a self-inflicted fast of fashion, Stella Brennan, 31, an insurance sales executive from Kenosha, Wis., realized last week that not even her husband, Kelly, a machinist, had yet figured out that she had been wearing the same six items, over and over [for a month]. The sad punch line is that Mr. Brennan is the one who actually does the laundry in the family.

During her experiment — something called a “shopping diet,” … Ms. Brennan made do with the following: a black blazer and pants from H & M; two button-down shirts, one black and one pink; a pair of Old Navy jeans; and one well-worn pink T-shirt.

…Her revelation at the end of 31 days, after her husband still had not noticed, even when she wore her floral-printed pajamas to do yard work: “Obviously, I didn’t need all of these clothes.”[3]

            There is a simple yet intractable problem in the world – some people have way too much, and some people have way too little. I think we all know that. But, how do we awaken to the real power within us to work on that? We simply must work on it.

            The following scenario is presented by Princeton University professor of bioethics, Peter Singer:

“On your way to work, you pass a small pond. …. As you get closer, you see that [there] is a very young child, just a toddler, who is flailing about, unable to stay upright or walk out of the pond. You look for the parents or babysitter, but there is no one else around. … If you don’t wade in and pull him out, he seems likely to drown. Wading in is easy and safe, but you will ruin the new shoes you bought only a few days ago, and get your suit wet and muddy. By the time you hand the child over to someone responsible for him, and change your clothes, you’ll be late for work. What should you do?”[4]

Singer recounts that when he poses this fairly straightforward ethical dilemma to his students, they predictably respond that you should save the child. They scoff at the silliness of the value choice of shoes or a suit – or even missing work – over the life of a child. And yet…every time we buy new shoes just because they are cute, or a snack when we aren’t hungry, or any indulgence, Prof. Peter Singer would argue that we are making a decision not to save a life that needs saving. 

Singer teaches  “…evolutionary psychologists tell us that human nature just isn’t sufficiently altruistic to make it plausible that many people will sacrifice so much for strangers. On the facts of human nature, they might be right, but they would be wrong to draw a moral conclusion from those facts. If it is the case that we ought to do things that, predictably, most of us won’t do, then let’s face that fact head-on. Then, if we value the life of a child more than going to fancy restaurants, the next time we dine out we will know that we could have done something better with our money. If that makes living a morally decent life extremely arduous, well, then that is the way things are. If we don’t do it, then we should at least know that we are failing to live a morally decent life – not because it is good to wallow in guilt but because knowing where we should be going is the first step toward heading in that direction.”[5]

Now this is truly confounding. What are the options before us? Either give so significantly that our lives are morally indecent if we enjoy any luxury OR just live with the knowledge that, until we do give in that way, we are simply living morally indecent lives. Singer answers this question directly:  “That’s right: I’m saying that you shouldn’t buy that new car, take that cruise, redecorate the house, or get that pricey new suit. After all, a $1000 suit could save five children’s lives.”[6] 

This is highly uncomfortable. Love him or hate him, his own reviewers say, you certainly can’t ignore him. Peter Singer is one of the most challenging social/ethical philosophers of our time. He makes us unsettled. Very. I feel uneasy when I read his writings because he forces me to look in the mirror and look myself in the eye and tell myself some kind of truth that I don’t want to hear. He’s not morally wrong, his critics argue. But, he’s pragmatically ridiculous. It’s all just too extreme. It’s not practical to think – every time you’re about to have a nice ice cream cone from Creole Creamery – that the money for that could have – in fact, should have – gone in a kitty to purchase vaccinations in far off lands. This is very severe, don’t you think? Sure it is. But, sometimes ethics and pragmatics intersect in an inconvenient place.

            In a moment we will hear the call of the shofar, and we will read these sacred words from the machzor:

            Hear now the Shofar…Hear now the call, and turn in true repentance. …and now affirm the triumph of good! We are made in the divine image! We are the house of Israel…a holy people. Know then the sound discover its meaning: Uru, y’sheinim mish’natchem! Awake, you sleepers, from your sleep! Rouse yourselves, you slumberers, out of your slumber! Examine your deeds and turn to God in repentance. Remember your Creator, you who are caught up in the daily round, losing sight of eternal truth; you who are wasting your years in vain pursuits that neither profit nor save. Look closely at yourselves; improve your ways and your deeds.”[7]

            Also uncomfortable. Not at all comfortable. There is an adage that the role of religion is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. And, this day may offer us a climactic experience of that call. If we are too comfortable, we must disturb ourselves.

            Our siddur, Mishkan T’filah offers this Shabbat prayer:

            Disturb us, Adonai, ruffle us from our complacency; Make us dissatisfied. Dissatisfied with the peace of ignorance, the quietude which arises from a shunning of the horror, the defeat, the bitterness and the poverty…of humans….Wake us, O God, and shake us…Disturb us, O God, and vex us; let it be a time to be stirred and spurred to action.”[8]

            It is hard to believe that the point of our spiritual experience is to become uncomfortable. In fact, I don’t believe that the point of our spiritual experience is to become uncomfortable, and stop there. The discomfort is the vehicle, the impetus, the spiritual accelerator.  Without it, we might think our job is done, we’ve offered enough, we’re a finished product. We are not.

People mock the Jewish stereotype of guilt. I studied with a psychologist once who totally recalibrated the notion of guilt. She said that guilt is only negative if it festers and marinates your body and soul into actionless atrophy. And, so, our tradition asks us to get uncomfortable, and then do what it takes to alleviate it. Maybe it’s about finding a better balance, because we’re really not there yet. Maybe we have to give up some of our stuff. Maybe we have to give up some of our time. Maybe we have to give up some of our money. Maybe we have to give up some of our self indulgence in order to get just a little bit more… comfortable. Because, right now, there are people who have way too little while we have way too much. And, that is just uncomfortable.

A trusted mentor of mine warned me not to offer this message today. What will it do? Should people not enjoy their lives? How can a basically good person take this message anywhere useful? I don’t know if that’s for me to say. I know only that it feels to me morally true that when we have so much, and we really do not need more, then we must have an obligation to give much more. Some way. Some way that is unique to each of us. And this may be difficult. We may have to stretch. We may have to think and figure it out and make hard decisions. And, all of that is not easy and it may even be uncomfortable.

In a moment we will hear the words: Uru, y’sheinim mish’natchem! Awake, you sleepers, from your sleep! Rouse yourselves, you slumberers, out of your slumber! Examine your deeds and turn to God … Remember your Creator, you who are caught up in the daily round, losing sight of eternal truth; … Look closely at yourselves; improve your ways and your deeds.”[9] Let it be real.

 “Rabbi Sidney Greenberg wrote, “Greatness is not a matter of size but of quality, and it is within the reach of every one of us. Let none of us believe that greatness has passed us by. If we wish it very much, it can be ours. …each of us is indispensable in the part assigned to us…Each of us has a job to do that will remain undone if we do not do it. Each of us has love that only we can give. Each of us has compassion that will be denied to the world if we suppress it.”[10]  It may not be comfortable, but it sure is true. There is always a gap between what we are and what we could become. And, in whatever way we can shrink that gap, we will be closer to greatness. That I believe.

I still have my sparkly engagement ring. I’m not there yet.

L’shana tova.

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[1] Kevin Salwen and Hannah Salwen. The Power of Half. ix-x.

[2] http://givingpledge.org

[3] http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/22/fashion/22SIXERS.html?_r=1&pagewanted=print

[4] Peter Singer, The Life You Can Save. 3-4.

[5] Ibid 123-4.

[6] Peter Singer, Writings on an Ethical Life, 123.

[7] GOR, 138-9.

[8] Mishkan T’filah, 55.

[9] GOR, 138-9.

[10] Ibid. 31-2.