It wasn’t just about the money. That’s what Idit Klein says about the initial $1,000 grant she received from the Bronfman Youth Fellowships’ Alumni Venture Fund in 2004. Klein, the executive director of Keshet, a nonprofit that champions the inclusion of LGBTs within the Jewish community, used the small seed grant to mount an educational campaign centered on marriage equality.
In meeting with Conservative rabbis from across the country who were ordained by the Jewish Theological Seminary, its chancellor, Arnold Eisen, found the “overwhelming majority” had been inadequately trained in pastoral care.
At the same time, Eisen said, the rabbis said it was the “most rewarding part of their jobs — dealing with people at times of stress, end of life and serious illness.”
“Rabbinical students who got this training said it was the most meaningful part of their education,” he said.
The initial news reports were staggering. Hadassah, and many other Jewish charities, had invested with the arch-thief Bernard Madoff. Whatever they put in, whatever they thought they had, it was all gone in the biggest fraud in history.
As CEO of the FJC - A Foundation of Philanthropic Funds, Leonard Glickman oversees the organization’s management of $215 million in assets. During the three-and-a-half years he’s been with the FJC, he’s worked to expand the organization’s fiscal sponsorship program (participation is up 30 percent this year), promote the opening of donor-advised funds, and rebrand the organization’s tagline.
Arkadiy Ugorskiy, a refugee from Russia, realized a couple of years ago that he faced a new and formidable obstacle to making it in the U.S. in the field of video production. Although Ugorskiy, who studied cinematography in a top Moscow studio, had succeeded against the odds in building his business “from nothing” after arriving in Brooklyn in 1998, at 44, he couldn’t afford to buy the high-definition video equipment that was quickly becoming the standard in the field.
As a reporter stands at the entrance of the Barzilai Medical Center in Ashkelon awaiting the arrival of a medical helicopter, air raid sirens begin to wail and people begin running.
“We may be facing another rocket attack,” she says just as a rocket, black smoke gushing from its tail, slams with a thud into the roof of the hospital behind her.
“Oh, my God, oh, my God, what’s going on?” the reporter asks as she ducks and then runs with her microphone and cameraman into the hospital.
She may not have a lot, but 80-something-year-old Helen Stechler insists upon serving chilled Poland Spring water and a bowl of bright orange cantaloupe to her impromptu guests, as they enter her brand new studio apartment in Manhattan ’s Upper West Side.
Stechler, who escaped the Nazi death marches in her teenage years, is now able to live comfortably among friends and even enjoys a special bond with Maryanne Pasquariello, her housing director.
Several Israeli social service and humanitarian organizations that incurred additional expenses during the country’s month-long war in Lebanon this summer have recently started fundraising campaigns. Among them are:
Hers was a busy home while Hadassah Freilich was growing up in Gardener, Mass. With her father the rabbi of an Orthodox synagogue and her mother busy in the community, young Hadassah grew up with a sure sense that Jews took care of others. That if someone was hungry, you fed him.
For a long time, Danielle Durchslag had absolutely no interest in anything Jewish. The 25-year-old Soho resident hated Hebrew school, despised the Jewish overnight camps she was sent to and describes the trip she took to Israel when she was a teenager as “an utter disaster.”