Mensches

While visiting Israel with The Jewish Federation’s Real Estate and Construction Division last November, Bryan Berkett snuck away from the group to check on a little project he had going.

“Ask me anything you want,” says Dorothy Greenstein as she leads a group of children through the Museum of Tolerance.

“For me, the hook was working with kids,” Nick Melvoin responded when asked why he decided to volunteer for Camp Harmony.

To look at the logo for Big Sunday — a child’s handprint with a heart-shaped center — is to see Charlie Hess’ artful presentation of the community service weekend’s raison d’etre: to lend a helping hand. Since Hess created that logo nine years ago, pro bono, he has continued to lend his hand in many ways, most notably by creating every graphic image for the annual event. This makes Hess one of the key behind-the-scenes people who’ve helped Big Sunday grow from a one-day event with a handful of projects and participants to a weekend-long event, with 50,000 volunteers pitching in at 500 nonprofits, schools and other agencies across Southern California last May.

From the cheerful campus of Milken Community High School, Los Angeles’ Skid Row can seem worlds away. But the realities of homelessness and squalor plaguing L.A. city streets were brought home for student Lindsy Seidel last year on a “life-changing” visit.

Sometimes, in the midst of Shabbat morning davening with her USYers, Merrill Alpert will fall silent for a few moments and listen to the teenagers’ voices.

Each year following the Mensch issue, The Jewish Journal is besieged with letters noting that the word mensch is literally translated as man. If The Journal is going to include women on the list, as it rightfully does, what are the feminist implications?

Julia Greenwald pounded on the door. It was 2 a.m., and she knew the woman inside wasn’t answering because she couldn’t face what was on the other side.