GOOD MORNING! In my thirties (yes, a long time ago) I volunteered as a chaplain for the local Miami Beach based Boy Scout troop. Six or seven times a year, we would camp for a few days in campsites throughout the state. These camping excursions took us to some of the most remote parts of Florida.

Invariably, whenever we would get to a new locale, I would try to track down fellow “landsmen” and see if there was some type of Jewish connection. I quickly learned that a good way to figure out if there was a local Jewish population was to look at the donor boards of local hospitals, museums, and other community organizations.

This should not be surprising. Our sages teach that one of the characteristics of a Jew is kindheartedness. In fact, according to the Talmud this is something that is in our very DNA – something we inherited from our forefather Abraham: “Anyone that is kindhearted towards his fellow man is certainly of the children of Abraham” (Talmud Beitzah 32b). Furthermore, Maimonides declared that arrogant, cruel, misanthropic, and unloving people could be suspected of not being true Jews (Yad, Issurei Bi’ah 19:17).

Clearly, building communal infrastructure is part of the Jewish psyche. It should therefore come as no surprise that one of the first projects that the Jewish nation embarked upon after receiving the Torah was that of building the Tabernacle – a home for the presence of the Almighty within the Jewish encampment.

Thus, this week’s Torah reading contains the Jewish people’s very first capital campaign, to which everyone was asked to contribute. Interestingly enough, the twelve heads of the tribes offered to deficit fund the project; that is, whatever wasn’t raised they would contribute from their own pockets.

Our rabbis teach us that the entire amount needed was raised within two days – perhaps the shortest capital campaign in history. The heads of the tribes, who had offered to deficit fund the project, were left with nothing to donate and merely made a token contribution. They were scolded for not showing true leadership in charitable giving because they had completely missed the point. It wasn’t just about getting the project built; it was about becoming a charitable person!

I am reminded of the following joke. A man approached one of the wealthy widows in town, a woman known for her generosity, “Madam,” he said in a broken voice “I wish to draw your attention to the terrible plight of a poor family living in the edge of town. The father of the family is dead, the mother is too ill to work, and the seven children are starving. They are about to be turned out onto the cold, empty streets unless someone pays their rent, which amounts to $400.”

“How terrible!” exclaimed the woman, “May I ask who you are?”

The sympathetic visitor applied his handkerchief to his eyes. “I’m the landlord,” he sobbed.

My beloved friend and mentor Rabbi Kalman Packouz, of blessed memory, was perhaps the most kindhearted person I’ve ever known and a paragon of this very virtue that defines us as Jews. Rabbi Packouz once asked his teacher Rav Noach Weinberg, of blessed memory, “If one has $100 dollars to give, is it better to give $1 to 100 people or $100 dollars to one person for whom you can make a real difference?”

The rabbi answered with profound wisdom; a reply that shows us that giving charity is really about becoming a better person. He said, “Give $1 to 100 people. Then when the 101^st person asks you for help, you’ll feel for his situation and look for ways to help him. If you give $100 to one person, for the next 99 people who ask for assistance, you’ll be defending yourself that you’re already a good person because you gave to one person and made a difference. It will make you a hard person.”

What kind of person do you want to be?

Do you want to be a compassionate person or a hard person? Do you want to be a giver or a taker? Part of the decision is determining what kind of example you wish to set for your children. When you focus on the kind of person you wish to be, then you will be able to formulate an approach to tzedakah to get you there.

Rabbi Packouz was determined to be a giver and he wanted to train his children to be givers and compassionate toward others. He and his wife set out to make their home a place where people would feel welcomed and receive something both monetarily and on a personal level.

When the doorbell rang, he quickly went to the door, greeted the itinerant fund-raisers with a warm smile, and invited them to enter. He then asked them, “Would you like something to eat or drink? Would you like to use the bathroom?” If they answered yes to refreshments then he would call to one of his children, “We have a guest!” The children would come and ask what they could get them to drink and if they’d like ice in their drink.

I want to point out that Rabbi Packouz was by no means a wealthy man. He and his wife were blessed with nine children – a large family by any measure – and were committed to paying full tuition for all of them. Nevertheless, they made life decisions to make sure that they always had monies for others. They lived and dressed simply, they drove very modest cars, and had few, if any, indulgences. In this way they were able to maximize their goal of helping others.

I once remember Rabbi Packouz remarking that in the previous year he had written out over five hundred checks to those who came to him seeking help. That would be an astonishing number for anyone, let alone a rabbi who drew a modest salary. How did Rabbi Packouz manage to commit to paying full tuition for all of his children and distribute tens of thousands of dollars in charity?

Because he made those commitments a priority in his life. Most people decide how they want to live, and whatever money they have “left over” they will use for their children’s education and for helping others. Not the good rabbi and his wife. They decided where their priorities were and then made the necessary accommodations in their standard of living to enable them to spend their money supporting their children’s schools and helping others.

Rabbi Packouz was a one of a kind individual – the kind of person whose life is an inspiration to others. We have just finished a book based on his remarkable life, which will be available in the coming months. Stay tuned for more details!

The Hebrew language is a holy one. Hebrew words don’t merely refer to things or concepts; they define them. In Hebrew, the word for charity is “tzedakah” and it is best translated as “righteousness” or “justice.”

It differs from charity, which is defined as “an act of generosity or giving aid to the poor.” Thus, in Judaism it is not merely a charitable act to give to the poor; it is the very obligation to be righteous person. The late Kirk Douglas once put it well when he said, “Tzedakah is not just a good thing; it’s the right thing!”

The mitzvah of tzedakah does not only apply to helping just the poor. Whenever one fills a need of others – even the wealthy – through money, food, or comforting words, he fulfills this mitzvah!

Terumah, Exodus 25:1 – 27:19

This week's Torah reading is an architect’s or interior designer’s dream portion. It begins with the Almighty commanding Moses to tell the Jewish people to donate the materials necessary for the construction of the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary.

The Torah continues with the details for constructing the Ark, the Table, the Menorah, the Tabernacle (the central area of worship containing the Ark, the Menorah, the Incense Altar, and the Table), the Beams composing the walls of the Tabernacle, the Cloth Partition (separating the Holy of Holies, where the Ark rested, from the remaining Sanctuary part of the Tabernacle), the Altar, and the Enclosure for the Tabernacle (surrounding curtains forming a rectangle within which was approximately 15x larger than the Tabernacle).