Does charity lessen the degree of the decree?
Before Rosh Hashana, and especially during the 10 days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, Jews who need to raise money for whatever important cause love to squeeze out as much as they can from the prayer that we recite during the High Holidays: “תשובה ותפילה וצדקה מעבירין את רוע הגזירה” — “Repentance, prayer, and charity avert the severity of the decree.”
They obviously put the emphasis on the word charity. What better way to be written and sealed in the Book of Life than to donate to… fill in the charity’s name. According to my good friend Claude, there are 40,000 registered NGOs (amutot) in Israel. Just Israel. And this week (in addition to all year round) you are being asked to give to those non-profit organizations, and international NGOs, and of course your shul is raising money, your kids’ schools are probably also running campaigns, and you are getting at least one link a day from Charidy, JGive, CauseMatch, or IsraelGives about some private campaign pleading for your help. And this is all on top of your regular (large) monthly expenses, plus the extra holiday expenses this time of year.
Whether it’s in your inbox, across your social media, or just plain ads on websites or articles, you are being inundated with requests to help the handicapped, orphaned, impoverished, and needy. I don’t know about you, but for me, this is very difficult. I want to give to everyone, but I simply can’t. So I am forced to choose how much money I can realistically give and to whom. And the “who” usually reflects what is meaningful and important to me. You can learn a lot about someone by where they choose to give charity.
Now pivot with me for a second. There is a principle in business often called market validation. The logic, which I’m sure you’re familiar with, is that if many companies or stores are making significant money chasing the same problem or audience, that’s strong evidence real demand exists in that arena. You don’t have to guess whether there’s a market, because the market has already told you. Why are there 50 pizza shops in Jerusalem’s city center or on Avenue J? How are they not all running out of business? Someone opening a new pizza shop on Ben Yehudah street might be told, “There’s no need to open a new one, there are 10 already!” “Ah!” says the owner, “Indeed, that is why I am opening a pizza shop there!”
I think the same goes for charity. Everyone will choose which pizza shop they like best, or which charity speaks to their soul the most, but there is never too much of a good thing when it comes to where people put their money.
Therefore, I am jumping on the bandwagon and giving into this Jewish 10-days-of-repentance trend, and asking you for …that’s right… donations. I know you can give your charity to other places — more deserving, more important, more critical — but regardless, I am still asking.
Last May, I quit my job and started interviewing leaders and survivors in the Jewish community about sexual abuse. I made this decision the same way a shaliach of Chabad goes to some far-flung city in Africa and says, “I don’t know how we will make it financially, but this is my shlichut.” So, my friend, I don’t know how I’ll make it financially, but this book is my shlichut, for today. It’s hard to explain, and I certainly don’t think I am the only one who can facilitate this book’s mission, but no one else is. “If not me, who else? If not now, when?” It is a difficult and emotionally exhausting topic, not one I would choose to spend my hours dealing with and talking about — but here I am. Deep in the mud. Without any financial backing, I am choosing to spend my time writing this book: Black Shadows: A Prism on Sexual Abuse in the Frum Community.
The list of leaders I have interviewed so far includes incredible pioneers of this crusade including lawyers, doctors, rabbis, teachers, and therapists. The brave survivors I have interviewed, whose stories have never been published, paint the most horrific scenes, which I am meant to craft into words.
Many assumed I am writing this book because I myself am a victim. I am not. And that is exactly why I think, b’davka (specifically), I am a good candidate for writing this book. When I write, I am telling survivors all over the world: you are not alone. I see you. One should not have to be a victim of sexual abuse to recognize its trauma or speak about it openly.
People warned me how hard it would be to go about writing this book. For one, it’s emotionally taxing. (Read this blog I wrote about one example of how it hits me.) Secondly, few people donate to this topic. Today, people love to give to the hottest charity on the market- it’s status. In addition, there is still a huge taboo around talking about sexual abuse in the frum community. And, sadly, there is a huge difference in how to approach this conversation between the Chareidim and, let’s call it, the non-Chareidim. And as if that’s not enough, people don’t want to be associated with difficult realities. I was told I would have obstacles, and I have had many already. I was told, “If he’s in the book, I won’t be.” I was told, “No reputable Jewish publisher will publish this book.” I was told I wouldn’t be able to match reputable haskamot to the list of people I want to interview. I was told my idea of integrating Chareidi and non-Chareidi views/personalities can’t happen until Mashiach comes. I was told that if I self-publish I can do what I want, but my target audience won’t pick it up. I was told if I want my target audience to read the book, I will need kashrut stamps (a publisher, haskamot) and I would need to work within the system. And then I was told by some survivors that they refuse to be in the book if I will have haskamot.
And I keep going.
Sometimes, I have many hours of pre-interview conversations with people before they even agree to sit down with me, or not. I have had people I spent hours talking to, interviewing, and writing about — only for them to tell me they changed their minds and are backing out. I have spent endless hours drafting letters and LOIs to foundations and philanthropists, asking them to help fund this book. I have made myself vulnerable asking for donations from friends and family toward my time spent on this book. But whoever heard of donating towards someone’s time writing a book? Not me. I get this takes audacity on my part. Maybe holy Chutzpah.
But here are some facts.
- I am going to write this book, whether the money comes in or not.
- I am spending time on this book that could be going toward other things, like a paid job or doing things that make me happy.
- I am spending money on gas driving to people’s houses all over the country. Publication will cost significant money as well.
I am more than open to dedications, sponsorships, partnerships, and collaborations for the book. I know there are people out there who feel strongly about this cause and would give towards this campaign — but who are they? Is it you? Or do you know them?
If you tell me that I am just a person (not an NGO) and that you need a receipt, then I will tell you that I am grateful to a specific organization in Israel that deals with sexual abuse cases daily. They have agreed to receive funds on my behalf, give a receipt for tax purposes, and then cover direct costs that come up for me while writing this book.
The bottom line is, if you know me, then you know that when I put my heart into something, I go all in. The money you give for the time I spend on this “shlichut” will go towards my daily living expenses and raising four kids living in Israel. You won’t see pictures of a family vacation in Hawaii on Facebook — I assure you.
If you are wondering why this book is different from other books published on this topic, that is a good question. And the answer is explained here, on my campaign page. Read more about Black Shadows and give what you can if this cause feels right for you — because hey, we all know that charity averts the severity of the decree. Right?
(See what I did there?)
Learn more and help this project happen by clicking here: https://my.israelgives.org/en/join/BlackShadow

