Charidy’s missteps start with misspelling

HOWARD FELDMAN

It was cute at first, but then the public water boarding became boring and silly. And much like any ponzi scheme, I am pretty sure that the last wet and cold person felt pretty dumb when they took the bucket off their head to see that everyone had lost interest and had moved on to the next challenge.

I know it’s not the same, but I feel the same way about the Charidy campaign. I am just going to come right out and say it. I hate it. I don’t hate the causes (at least not all of them), but the Charidy thing drives me a little crazy.

We were sitting at the Linksfield Clinic a few weeks ago, having a serious medical conversation over a particularly poor (and expensive) cup of coffee, when my brother’s phone rang. He saw it was about a then current Charidy project that was nearing its deadline. Work needed to be done at that point to raise the level of hysteria to levels that only teenage girls were capable of. It was his third such call, so he ignored it.

Then my phone rang, then my other brother’s, and then my father’s. In a short space of time, we were collectively subject to about seven such intrusions. It felt a bit abusive, if I am to be honest. And it certainly didn’t endear that cause to us in any way.

In fact, it achieved the opposite.

My irrational hatred towards Charidy campaigns no doubt stems from the spelling of the word. The bastardisation of charity, for me, lies in the very name.

It doesn’t get any better from that point, as I never quite understand the maths and process behind it all. As far as I can tell, someone seems to have always agreed to match something or other. So, the organisation has a target (which is nice for it), but why that should be at all relevant to me and why I should need to get caught up in the high-pitched hysteria of it all still perplexes me.

I have also noticed that much like loadshedding, it is an ever moving goal post that seems to jump miraculously to stage four, just as we settle into stage two. The whole system seems to be designed to confuse and enflame all at once. And nothing makes me more mean spirited than that does. That, and bad spelling.

We live in tough economic times. I am sensitive to that. The recent Chevrah Kadisha Purim campaign was a challenge for the organisation, and it was sadly predictable.

The Chev is responsible for supporting the vulnerable of all ages in our community. The need is growing, the support base is shrinking, and financial insecurity is making donors reticent.

It isn’t surprising that the organisation is feeling it if you add the complexities of power outages, the difficulty in contacting community members on campaign day, and donations headed for abroad. And if it is feeling it, then every local school, shul, and organisation must be feeling it too.

By no means do I suggest that Charidy campaigns be stopped. If someone is keen to pour ice water over their head, then by all means, let him do so.

It just doesn’t mean that I need to participate as well. What I do suggest is that the organisers of these initiative don’t badger people. Also, they shouldn’t assume that their campaign is as meaningful to everyone as it is to the organisation driving it.

I also suggest that considering the enormous challenges the community is facing, the donors think very carefully where to channel their money. They should consider where it will be put to the best use, and who the recipients of the limited resource will be.

Charidy does, of course, begin at home.