Falling Into The Gap

Birthright Israel participants on a visit to Jerusalem cut up salad at a Meir Panim soup kitchen.

Birthright Israel participants on a visit to Jerusalem cut up salad at a Meir Panim soup kitchen.

by Michele Chabin
Israel Correspondent

Jerusalem — About 50 men and women, most middle-aged and older, are enjoying a nutritious meal of chicken, rice and salad. Though the establishment near the Central Bus Station isn’t fancy, the waiters are kind and solicitous and the diners linger and socialize.

But rather than a restaurant, the diners are being served at one of several food kitchens run by Meir Panim, an Israeli organization that provides 5,700 hot meals (half a million annually) to disadvantaged adults and school children every day. The waiters and young people cutting up salad in the kitchen this day are volunteers from Birthright Israel.
Meir Panim’s operating budget of NIS 28 million ($7.7 million) is almost entirely dependent on charitable donations, the majority of which have traditionally

come from abroad.

Now, due to the sharp devaluation of the U.S. dollar against the Israeli shekel during the past two years—$1 now buys about 25 percent less than it did then—and the global financial crisis, it’s becoming much more difficult for Meir Panim and other Israeli non-profit organizations to provide vital services.

“We’re certainly having difficulties as a result of the weak dollar and the worldwide economic turndown,” says Shlomit Shulov Barkan, the organization’s deputy executive director. “We’re receiving smaller donations and the dollar donations we do receive are worth a lot less.”

The situation, coupled with the robust Israeli economy, is prompting many Israeli organizations to work harder to procure Israeli donations.
“The dollar’s drop and the moderate retrenchment in overseas donor giving is certainly having a big effect, but I think the greater reliance on Israeli giving actually began about five years ago,” says Michelle Waters, a consultant with Jerusalem Consulting, which advises Israeli non-profits.

Waters says the Israeli economy “is booming,” making it easier for locals to support local charities.

“There are about 1,000 new Israeli millionaires every year. There are a lot of new philanthropists and even non-millionaires have a lot more disposal income,” Waters says.

In truth, no one knows exactly how much Israelis donate to local causes. According to a report called “The Emerging Culture of Giving in Israel,” an overview compiled by the Andrea and Charles Bronfman Philanthropies that was distributed to participants of the recent Jewish Funders Network (JFN) conference in Israel, “there is no answer to the question ‘How much is being given in Israel.’ Quoting figures ranging from tens of millions of dollars to more than $200 million, the report said, “there are grounds to believe these are underestimates, and do not take into account large sums given by local mega-donors.”

Regardless of the amounts donated locally, the document concluded, Israel’s not-for-profit sector has traditionally been “dependent” on government funding or overseas donations.

Though he agrees that Israeli philanthropy is definitely on the upswing, Israeli companies and individuals—and the non-profits themselves—could be doing much more, believes JFN’s president, Mark Charendoff.

“Is Israel where it should be in terms of philanthropy? Absolutely not. Are Israelis of wealth where they should be in terms of their giving? Absolutely not. But on its 60th anniversary, was America where it should have been? Absolutely not.”
But things are improving, Charendoff says.

“Ten years ago, if I had a meeting of foundations, most of the people would be Israeli staff of American foundations. Today, there’s a whole community of Israeli foundations and a significant number of thoughtful, reflective Israeli donors.”

Charendoff says much of the problem is cultural. “Philanthropists in the U.S. are hailed as heroes, which is not the case in Israel, where they tend to be more camera shy. The Israeli public does not understand and has not been kind to local philanthropists. They ascribe either a political or business motive to giving, or say the money is coming from the donor’s company,” not his own pocket.

The relative lack of transparency on the part of many Israeli not-for-profits as well as the lack of Israeli government tax incentives don’t motivate philanthropy, either, Charendoff says. To effectively fundraise in Israel, an organization has to be prepared to invest substantial time and resources, Waters says. “The majority of Israeli non-profits have a budget of under NIS 2 million (about $555,000). The notion of paying someone NIS 100,000 worries them. They think every shekel should go toward programming.” “There are some Israeli not-for-profits that don’t even have Israeli donors as part of their plan or their thinking,” Charendoff says, sounding exasperated. “They insist that Israelis won’t give in meaningful amounts, but we tell them that other organizations are indeed receiving significant donations from Israelis.” What these organizations don’t realize, Charendoff says, is that “American donors are far more willing to consider a grant to an Israeli organization if they see there are Israeli donors already on board.”

Among the many Israeli organizations that actively solicit Israeli donations is Efrat, which assists pregnant women in financial distress who might otherwise have an abortion.

Dr. Eli Schussheim, the organization’s director, says approximately 20,000 legal abortions are performed in Israel every year, and estimates that another 30,000 are done without the necessary authorization.

Of Efrat’s $3.5 million operating budget, 40 percent comes from Israelis. “Right now we have a list of 40,000 Israeli donors. Our donors know there is no better investment for their money,” Schussheim says of the baby supplies and food Efrat is currently providing to 3,800 pregnant women and their families.

Eli Beer, chief coordinator of the United Hatzalah of Israel rescue organization, says his organization has recently redoubled its longstanding efforts to solicit more Israeli funding. “You’d be surprised by how many of our Israeli donors come from poor socio-economic backgrounds,” Beer says, clearly touched by the 18, 36 and 54 shekel donations that routinely arrive in the mail. “Israelis are our beneficiaries and they appreciate what we do. The goal now is to attract more donors and larger donations.” While Israelis eagerly respond to Hatzalah’s twice-yearly fundraising campaigns (Israeli donations comprise about half of its $3.5 million operating budget), some do so in non-monetary ways. “Volunteering is giving, too, and we have 1,300 volunteers,” Beer says proudly. “This past year we launched a program for EMTs and paramedics in east Jerusalem and other Arab areas. It was amazing to see how many Arabs want to volunteer. They want to be part of our family.”

Like Hatzalah, a significant proportion of Meir Panim’s budget comes from Israelis. “We have always worked in cooperation with the private sector, the business sector in Israel, with foundations and individuals,” says Shulov Barkan. Much of the support is financial, while the rest is support “in kind.”

“People donate money and things worth money. There are companies that give us free rent to run our facilities, or air-conditioners. High-tech companies give us a lot of equipment.” Tamar Zuckerman, deputy director of Afikim, an organization that runs enrichment programs for poor children and job training for their parents, says Israeli companies donate art supplies or school bags and provide deep discounts on children’s clothing and school supplies. The Rimonim hotel chain, she says, “provides the kids with a day of fun, with the pool and all the meals included. Fox charges much less for its clothing.

“These gifts are worth a great deal of money,” she says. Israelis “are used to giving of their time and services, but are wary of giving money, unless they know the organization well.” In the past, she says, “certain non-profits misused donations and the public is still skeptical.” The many shekel donations Afikim receives “are especially welcome right now,” Zuckerman says, because the funding the organization requested from U.S. sources was based on a 4.6 to 4.7 shekel to dollar rate.

“By the time we received the money, it had depreciated by 32 percent. It’s very hard to provide the services we promised, and we’re working hard to fill the gap.”
So is Ilan Egozi, executive director of the Aid to Disabled Veterans of Israel organization (Beit Halochem).

“We started to approach Israelis a long time ago, but only for specific projects,” Egozi says of his organization’s long-standing efforts to maintain three state-of-the-art centers for the country’s wounded vets, and to begin building a fourth. At the start of this year, the disabled veterans organization began working intensively on establishing an Israeli Friends of Beit Halochem.

“We made the decision mainly because we need to finance our fourth center, in Beersheva, whose operating costs have skyrocketed in dollar terms. We have friends organizations overseas, the most effective being in Canada, and we want to be equally effective here.” The more Israelis donate to their own organizations, the better it will be for everyone, Charendoff says.

“Overseas donors feel that the participation of Israeli donors means greater oversight. It’s very difficult to sit in New York and get a really good sense of what’s going on in Tel Aviv. That’s one of the many ways Israeli philanthropists can contribute,” Charendoff says.

Westchester Jewish Conference

Westchester’s Jewish Community Relations Organization