Philanthropy: Tzedakah (צְדָקָה)

Jews don’t believe in giving charity; they believe in doing the right thing.

There are two radically different perspectives on wealth that provide the basis for charitable giving. In the first, whether a person inherited their wealth or earned it through hard work, it is rightfully theirs. If they freely choose to give of their wealth to those in need, it is a praiseworthy and unexpected act of generosity. In this view, there is absolutely nothing wrong with some people having more, even much more, than others. Wealth disparity is seen as a natural consequence of various factors, such as individual effort, education, talent, life circumstances, or luck. The goal in such a worldview is to amass as much wealth as one desires, and, ideally, this opportunity is freely available to all who seek it.

The second perspective contends that the unequal distribution of wealth in society is a calamity that needs to be rectified. Those who possess more than their fair share are obliged to share their wealth with the less fortunate. If they do not, they are guilty of perpetuating an injustice. From this perspective, the accumulation of wealth by any individual at the expense of the collective is considered a crime. Following this line of thought to its logical conclusion essentially leads to some form of state-sponsored socialism or increasingly restrictive measures like earning caps to enforce an oppressively equitable socio-economic model.

The Jewish notion of tzedakah, often incorrectly translated as charity, rejects both of these views, choosing instead to combine elements of both. Unlike charity, a term derived from the Latin word carus, meaning to be kind and endearing, tzedakah comes from the word tzedek, meaning justice—something, according to the Torah, that we are obligated to pursue.1

Indeed, according to author Paul Vallely, who spent six years researching the history of Western philanthropy, from the ancient Greeks and Hebrews to modern times, culminating in a book titled, Philanthropy: from Aristotle to Zuckerberg:

“For the Greeks and Romans, philanthrôpía was always a voluntary [and even self-serving2 ] activity among the elite; by contrast, tzedakah is a religious obligation that falls, proportionally, on both the rich and those with smaller incomes.”

However, rather than being externally enforced by the government or some other entity, tzedakah is a values-based responsibility, stemming from within. The specific ways in which we perform this act are entirely up to us; how much,3 when, where, why, and to whom we give—these details are left in our hands and hearts to decide.

Ultimately, the giving of tzedakah is rooted in the organismic understanding that when there is a need expressed within the greater structure of which we are a part and we have the means to fill it, it is our sacred duty to do so. Tzedakah is therefore the socio-spiritual mechanism whereby each part bears responsibility for the well-being of the whole.

In Roman times, the notion of caring for the poor was not widely held. For instance, the Talmud4 tells of the Roman consul Turnus Rufus, who questioned R. Akiva about Judaism’s obligation to provide for the poor: “If your G‑d loves the poor, why does He not support them Himself?” In Roman thought, the division between wealth classes was understood to be an essential, even providential, part of society’s Divine design and was thus intended to remain that way, unaltered.

Thankfully, we have come a long way since then. The number of nonprofits, volunteer organizations, and food banks is living proof of this. In today’s society, it is common for us to view ourselves as duty-bound to care for the welfare of every person, especially those less fortunate. This is much to the credit of the Jewish view being adopted into the mainstream and shaping the way we think about our social responsibilities today.

In contrast to the ancient Roman view, Judaism insists that if we see a person in need, it is because we have been given the opportunity to help them, and we are therefore obliged to do so. In fact, the Hebrew words for pauper, ani, and poverty, aniyut, are both derived from the root laanot, meaning to respond. This highlights that poverty is meant to elicit a response from those who have the means to give. Need, lack, disadvantage, and oppression are all G‑d’s invitations to us to fulfill our obligation to pursue justice through acts of tzedakah.

Rooted in a religiously ordained concept of social justice, the word tzedakah reminds us not to be overtaken by feelings of magnanimity and hubris as a result of our charitable deeds. Instead, giving tzedakah should elicit humility and appreciation for the blessing and opportunity to serve as G‑d’s trusted allocators on earth. As R. Yaakov ben Asher writes in Arbaah Turim,5 “[Whatever] wealth [you have] is not yours6 ; it is merely a deposit given on condition that you use it as the Depositor desires, by giving a portion of it to the poor.” In other words: we don’t have what we have because it is ours—in some way owed to us—but because G‑d has entrusted it to us to distribute where it is most needed. The wealth we possess is a deposit from G‑d that we are given for temporary safekeeping; it is earmarked for us to invest purposefully where and when the need arises.

From this perspective, there is no reason for the recipient of tzedakah to feel ashamed or undignified. On the contrary, it is they who enable the giver to partner with G‑d in completing creation! As our Sages teach7 : “More than the rich man does for the pauper, the pauper does for the rich man.” This is a total inversion of the way we normally view the power dynamics between rich and poor, and a redefinition of who is really giving to whom.

From a Torah perspective, the reason that there is a wealth disparity in the first place is for people to choose to right this wrong. If they would be forced or coerced into it, they would not learn the vital lesson the Torah seeks to impart, which is that we each bear responsibility for the greater, interconnected whole of society. Yes, tzedakah is a mitzvah, but, ultimately, G‑d does not want us to care for the poor just because we have to; rather, He wants us to do it because we truly believe it is the right thing to do.

We don’t help people in need because it’s a nice thing to do; we do it because it’s the right thing to do.

A disciple of the Baal Shem Tov once asked him: “You teach that there is a Divine purpose in everything, but what is the Divine purpose in atheism?”

The Baal Shem Tov replied: “When someone knocks on your door and asks for tzedakah, you, as a devout believer, must not tell him, ‘G‑d will surely take care of you.’ You must, in fact, act as if there were no G‑d and you were entirely responsible for this person’s well-being. In such a moment, atheism impels one to act!”8