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Major changes ahead at major Jewish charity

Federations not the only ones seeking to keep donors on board

 
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Sociologist Peter Frumkin, just back from speaking before a Hebrew University conference on philanthropy and public policy in Israel, told The Jewish Standard that the challenges federations are facing are part of a broader social trend: “Disintermediation, removal of the middle man. You see it in financial services” as well as in the charitable world, he noted.

“It’s a huge generational problem,” he said in a telephone interview on Tuesday. “The old-time donors would give unconditionally to the federations and trust the professional managers to make the decision about the highest and best use of philanthropic funds,” said Frumkin, who is professor of public affairs and director of the RGK Center for Philanthropy and Community Service at the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas.

Younger donors, he continued, “want a higher level of engagement,” perhaps serving on an organization’s board. “They also want a sense that they are doing more than just writing checks.”

Community foundations in the secular world are facing the same challenge, he said: “How do you maintain the donor base?”

In the community foundation world, he went on, “there’s been a concerted effort to reinvent the models, making them more centric to the needs of donors.”

He cited the successful Kansas City Community Foundation, which “invented a whole suite of services for donors designed to meet their needs,” as the “poster child for the community foundation world.”

Another universal challenge in the field of philanthropy is that donors want “evidence of impact.” There’s a “heightened sense of attention paid to evaluating results, measuring performance, and reporting on impact.”

This emphasis, he said, “stems from a kind of ethos of investing. You want to have some kind of sense of what the impact and the results [of your investing] are.” But while “the metrics we use to measure financial performance are very precise, the metrics we use to measure philanthropic performance are much less precise.”

It is difficult to measure, for example, whether a donation intended to foster Jewish identity does just that.

A particular challenge for Jewish charities is that younger donors “interpret philanthropy as healing the world,” not necessarily the Jewish world. “Their idea is tikkun olam, helping people and changing the world for the better. They are not so deeply aligned with Israel and Jewish causes” as their elders.

“Now that I’ve been to Israel,” he said in an aside, “I’ve seen the case for [donations to Israel] more clearly. Jewish identity is not exclusively wrapped up in the rituals of the faith. It’s also in this historic identity. You have to have a broad interpretation of what it means to be Jewish and a broader interpretation of what it means to heal the world.”

“The clever federations are reinventing themselves,” said Frumkin. The author of “Strategic Giving” (University of Chicago Press, 2006) — about effective philanthropy and how donors can develop a charitable agenda — he has some suggestions about how to do that.

First, he said, federations should create opportunities to engage and involve donors.

They should “build the tools for evaluation and performance measurement.”

And they should “serve as a vehicle for learning and donor development.”

Those are the three most important things, in Frumkin’s view, that federations can do “to ensure that the next generation of donors remain committed and interested in their work.”

 

More on: Major changes ahead at major Jewish charity

 
 
 

“We want to be an organization that is nimble, responsive, fast, not what people perceive as a federation,” said Alan Scharfstein, president of UJA Federation of Northern New Jersey. His words conjured up contrasting images: a sleek racehorse versus an unwieldy, slow-moving mammoth.

And we all know what happened to the mammoths.

To do its work well in an evolving communal landscape, UJA-NNJ must evolve as well, Scharfstein said. In an interview last month at its Paramus offices, he and federation officials outlined sweeping changes, changes designed, he said, “not only to manage funds but to engage the next generation.”

 
 
 
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Rabbi, doctor, author, shrink

Teaneck’s Rabbi Abraham Twerski, M.D.

It’s a fair bet that the most prolific author living in Teaneck — if not all Bergen County — boasts rabbinic ordination, a medical degree, and an impressive chasidic pedigree.

Rabbi Abraham Twerski has written 70 books, most shelved in the self-help/psychology sections. Some are Jewish in focus but others are not, including a series featuring his psychological advice illustrated with Peanuts cartoons. His latest, “The Rabbi and the Nuns,” is a memoir — with a strong helping of psychology, because it chronicles his career as a psychiatrist, with particular emphasis on his twenty years at St. Francis Hospital in Pittsburgh.

How does a rabbi end up heading psychiatric services at a Catholic hospital managed by nuns, let alone counseling nuns and priests?

In this case, by wanting to fill the very large shoes of his father, Rabbi Jacob Twerski.

 

From Budapest to Woodcliff Lake

Rabbi Andre Ungar’s career crossed continents, spanned streams

Rabbi Andre Ungar, a courtly man with a spade-shaped beard and impeccable manners, speaks with what seems at first to be pure and crystalline Queen’s English, precise and beautiful.

Listen carefully, though, and you hear something else underneath, something somehow both more and less familiar.

It’s a Hungarian accent, giving depth and context to his speech.

Rabbi Ungar, rabbi emeritus of Temple Emanuel of the Pascack Valley in Woodcliff Lake, is a complicated man, an intellectual with a well-earned passion for social justice and a life that took him to five countries in four continents before allowing him to settle here, in this one.

 

Blue and white moon

Israeli lunar mission makes stop in Paramus

In the May 1944, Itzhak Bash and 299 other Jewish engineers were removed from Auschwitz and taken to work at a Volkswagen factory that was assembling the V-1 flying bomb.

He had been a textile engineer in Hungary before the Nazis invaded and deported the Jews, but the Germans didn’t need his specific technical skills; they wanted slave laborers they could trust with careful work. The first V-1s from occupied France landed on London on June 13, 1944. As the Allies pushed into France, Mr. Bash was switched to work on the V-2, the first rocket to reach the edge of space. By the war’s end, more than 3,000 V-2 rockets had been launched.

Mr. Bash was one of the lucky hundred men who had survived from the original group of 300 engineers. Some were killed by Allied raids; others by the conditions at the work camps.

 

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Born to heal

Dr. Sharyn Lewin, new to Holy Name, talks about gynecological oncology, helping women, and saving lives

Ever since she was a small girl, Sharyn Lewin knew that she wanted to be a doctor.

But not just any doctor. The laser-like precision of her goal, from the time she was very young, was oddly specific.

“My earliest memory was going to school with a white coat and a stethoscope for Career Day,” Dr. Lewin said. By the time she was about 8, “I didn’t even know what an obstetrician or a gynecologist was — but I knew I wanted to be one.”

Very soon, Dr. Lewin narrowed her goals even further. She wanted to be a gynecological oncologist, studying and curing women’s cancers. She wanted to take after her grandmother, Dr. Gerda Bruno, who was a gynecologist at a time when few women were. And she succeeded. Dr. Lewin is newly arrived at Holy Name Medical Center in Teaneck, where she has begun a practice and eventually will inaugurate a full-service women’s health center. “It will be a comprehensive venue, where women can come for complete care,” she said.

 

Turning grief into action

Stephen Flatow talks about his long quest for justice for Alisa — and the fine assessed against BNP Paribas

As more and more bleak news from Israel continues to chill hearts here, the parents of all four murdered boys — the three Jews and the one Arab — will have to learn how to live without them.

It is a pain that they will feel forever, but they will learn to manage somehow, each in his or her own way.

In this country, Stephen Flatow models a way to take grief, fashion it into a lance, and wield it powerfully in his quest for justice. Ever since his daughter, Alisa — a Brandeis student who graduated from the Frisch School in Paramus and was spending her junior year abroad in Israel — was killed by terrorists, blown up, along with everyone else on board, as she rode a bus to an Israeli beach, Mr. Flatow has fought to make her murderers, and the terrorist state that supported them, pay for her death.

 

Turning grief into action

Palestinian terrorism is genocide

It’s time to say the G-word out loud.

Palestinian terrorism is not just another form of violence. It’s genocide by another name.

A word such as “genocide” should never be used lightly. If it is to have any meaning, it must not be flung about just to make some political point or to award victim status to some aggrieved group that has suffered far less than mass murder.

At the same time, we have to be willing to use the G-word when it applies—even if doing so is politically inconvenient or unpopular.

I recently spoke at the 11th National Conference of the David S. Wyman Institute for Holocaust Studies. It was the first time I have ever addressed such a forum. I was one of the speakers in a session involving people connected to genocides other than the Holocaust.

 
 
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