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November 22, 2011

Ben & Jerry’s co-founder explains how to do well by doing good

A scoop of Ben & Jerry’s may taste like heaven, and for company co-founder Jerry Greenfield, the business of making ice cream has a spiritual side as well.

“There is a spiritual aspect to business, just as there is to people,” Greenfield told a crowd of 300 last week at a networking event for the Jewish Federation of Greater Washington.

The ice cream company known for its colorful pint-size containers, funky flavors and creative marketing has implemented smart business practices that have advanced its bottom line as well as its do-good corporate culture.

Raised on suburban New York’s Long Island, Greenfield, 60, and his longtime friend and business partner Ben Cohen met in gym class in junior high school after discovering a shared dislike of running track. They were chubby kids who always enjoyed eating, Greenfield said, and both attended Hebrew school and had their bar mitzvahs at the Reform Congregation of Merrick.

Though a self-described “cultural Jew,” Greenfield said that his religious education helped sensitize him to discrimination, marginalization and the needs of “other people in society and around the world.”

In his mid-20s, after being rejected from some 20 medical schools and not content with working as a lab technician, Greenfield split a $5 Pennsylvania State University correspondence course in ice cream-making with Cohen and embarked on a new business venture.

In 1978, with $12,000 scraped together from loans and savings, they opened Ben & Jerry’s Homemade, Inc. in a renovated gas station in Burlington, Vt. Their single storefront venture would grow eventually into a $300 million global ice cream empire owned by the Unilever Corp.

Neither Greenfield nor Cohen is still active in the day-to-day running of the company. Instead, Greenfield said, his present role with Ben & Jerry’s holds “no responsibility and no authority,” joking that it should be a position that those attending the federation event also strive for in their careers.

But their vision for an ice cream company that would be both profitable and care about the needs of society has left a lasting impact on both employees and customers.

“Simply operating this way had so many benefits for the company,” said Greenfield, as he detailed some of the values-driven business practices that also saw him and Cohen named U.S. Small Business Persons of the Year in 1988.

One oft-cited example of Ben & Jerry’s socially conscience business practices is its purchase of $8 million annually of chocolate brownies baked at the Greyston Bakery in Yonkers, N.Y., a nonprofit that offers job training and hires workers who might have a difficult time finding jobs elsewhere, such as ex-convicts, former substance abusers and welfare recipients.

“We came up with this popular flavor [for using the brownies] and the bakery is pretty happy with it, too!” said Greenfield.

In 1984, when the company needed to raise additional capital to grow the business, they let their Vermont neighbors “get a scoop of the action” by holding an in-state public offering.

“People of essentially any economic situation could participate,” said Greenfield, and one in every 100 Vermont families became shareholders in the company. “As the business supported the community, the community supported the business.”

In 1985, the company made a public stock offering and also established the Ben & Jerry’s Foundation. It began donating 7.5 percent of pretax profits to nonprofit organizations—the highest percentage of any publicly traded company at the time, he said.

“As you give, you receive,” Greenfield said. “As you help others, you are helped in return.”

He added, “And just because the idea that the good that you do comes back to you is written in the Bible and not in some business textbook doesn’t mean that it is any less valid.”

Ben & Jerry’s co-founder explains how to do well by doing good Read More »

Still unemployed: Out of luck but not out of hope

In July 2009, when everyone could see that the financial collapse of September 2008 was not going to be short-lived, I tracked down and interviewed for The Journal ” title=”what Jewish organizations locally were doing to help”>what Jewish organizations locally were doing to help and was heartened to find that the community had stepped up its efforts to reach out to those unable to find a job, pay bills or to put food on their tables — often middle-class people who had, for the first time in their lives, found themselves in need of help.

This month, two and half years later and three years into the economic crisis, I checked in again with those same ordinary people I had interviewed: a single mom looking for a new career when her job in the mortgage industry disappeared; a family with young children flattened by medical expenses when the mom, who didn’t have medical insurance, was injured; a former vice president in a huge entertainment firm who now couldn’t even get callbacks from her old connections as she searched for a new job; and a human-resources manager whose job had shrunk to 20 hours a week.

All but the injured mom agreed to be interviewed once more, to let readers know how things are going now. In a short conversation, however, the mom told me her injury had healed, and she is able to work again. She and her husband had gotten help from a nonprofit in getting their debt restructured, but after a few months that deal fell apart when they missed a single payment. The family had filed for Chapter 13 bankruptcy, but she is hopeful they will eventually pull out of this mess, although she is still without health insurance.

Everyone else agreed to more extensive interviews. Like many Americans over the last three years, they have endured a continuing roller coaster of optimism and stress. Unemployment statistics and social service agency budgets tell one story, but the details of the lives of these people offer a more personal look at our times and the impact of financial stress.

From underemployed to employed to unemployed

Richard Banks had a job when I talked to him in 2009, but he was only working 20 hours a week and needed more. Today, the 64-year-old human resources manager who lives in Van Nuys is even further behind. He’s been out of a job since April.

“I feel young. I’m not ready for the senior center. I just want to work — I want to get out of the house, I want the social interaction, I like the idea of solving problems, of the energy of a workplace,” he said.

It took Banks 16 months to find a full-time job to replace the part-time position that wasn’t paying enough to cover his expenses. In December 2009, he was hired as the first HR manager at a growing Internet marketing firm. By January 2011, the company was sold to a competitor, and by June of that year, the California operation was completely shut down. Most of the 120 jobs at the firm were eliminated, with only a handful of people relocated to the Texas headquarters — an option that wouldn’t have worked for Banks, who has a wife and daughter, even had it been offered.

For the last five years, Banks and his wife, an editor, have traded spots back and forth being employed and unemployed. Family income has been about a third to a quarter what it used to be over the past five years, he said.

He has kept at the job hunt, working contacts, ads, Internet leads and building connections through a networking group he helped found at Temple Judea, where he was brotherhood president for several years.

Richard Banks has been on an employment roller coaster since 2008. “When you’re interviewing with someone half your age, there are issues,” he said. Photo by Rachel Davidson

He knows his age is working against him when it comes to job interviews.

“I’ve had so many interviews, long phone interviews, where everything is peachy keen, and then you meet up a week later and everything goes ice cold,” he said. “When you’re interviewing with someone who is half your age, there are issues — they want to be comfortable in their own culture, and it almost doesn’t matter what you bring into the environment in terms of education and experience. They’re just not comfortable with somebody they perceive — rightly or wrongly — who is not going to be around, or who is not going to get it, or who is not into the technology, or whatever the misconceptions are,” Banks said.

After Banks got laid off at the Internet firm, his wife got a job in publishing that came with health insurance, which was a good thing, as Banks — whose only stay in a hospital was when he was a bone marrow donor — was turned down for individual insurance.

Twenty-two days after his wife started working, Banks’ daughter, 23, was in a serious car accident, which has required follow-up medical care. It would have bankrupted them if they hadn’t had insurance, or if the new health care law hadn’t allowed his adult daughter to be on the family’s plan.

The daughter, a student, also works two jobs — as a food server and in retail. She pays about 90 percent of her expenses, and had to take out student loans when her father became unable to pay tuition after her first semester.

“I’m supposed to be there to be her safety net, and now I’m not that safety net, and that bothers me,” Banks said.

Cuts have come from everywhere. Banks said he’s always clipped coupons and doesn’t eat a lot of meat, so food expenses are pretty low. There have been no vacations and not much going out, and he had to give up tai chi, which had been helping to keep his stress levels down. He drives a 1986 Mercedes with no air conditioning and only one working window. He is collecting unemployment, but that will run out soon.

The house, in Van Nuys, is paid off, and Banks is repaying a small line of credit he took out against the house. He said he is relying on the house as his only asset.

And what about a retirement fund?

“I’m screwed,” he said. “There is no doubt about it.”

But he is staying hopeful and keeping busy.

Recently, he started meeting with another unemployed synagogue member to explore developing a Web-based business channeling volunteers to nonprofits.

He’s been helping a friend staff a new restaurant, and he started volunteering for One LA-IAF, an advocacy organization, where he is focusing on health care reform.

“I am walking the dog in the morning. I love to cook, so I’m back to making dinner. I am repotting the succulents and the cactuses because I love to see things grow — to keep the life force going,” he said.

He has no patience for talk about “one door closing and another opening.” But he looks for bright spots.

“I made a choice many years ago that no matter what is going on, you have to pull something out of that day that is good, something that makes you smile and makes you laugh. Something that keeps you positive.”

Still unemployed: Out of luck but not out of hope Read More »

Calendar Picks and Clicks: November 22-December 2

Pick of the Week: Tuesday, November 29

MIRANDA JULY
While procrastinating on her second screenplay, “The Future,” in 2009, July became obsessed with reading the classified ads in the PennySaver. She set out across Los Angeles to meet with PennySaver sellers, documenting the experiences in her latest book, “It Chooses You,” which blends narrative, interviews, photographs and deadpan humor. July appears in conversation with “This American Life” contributor Joshuah Bearman. Tue. 7 p.m. Free. Mark Taper Auditorium, Central Library, 630 W. Fifth St., downtown. (213) 228-7500. lfla.org.



TUE | NOV 22

ALAN KAUFMAN
The irreverent author discusses his latest memoir, “Drunken Angel,” divulging how growing up as the son of a French Holocaust survivor affected him, and how his alcoholism alienated those around him, including his daughter, before he got clean at 40. Tue. 7 p.m. Free. Book Soup, 8818 W. Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles. (310) 659-3110. www.booksoup.com.


THU | NOV 24

SKI WEEKEND IN WHISTLER
Spend Thanksgiving Weekend with Jewish professionals (25-45) on the slopes in Whistler. The trip includes a three-night hotel stay, a Friday night Shabbat dinner, a Saturday Shabbat lunch and barbecue, and more. Contact the Chotzen Sisters, who organized the excursion, for discounted rates for ski tickets as well as ski and snowboard rentals. Airfare not included. Thu. Through Nov. 27. 7:30 p.m. $199 (per person). $225 (per person, two-bedroom suite), $320 (per person, two-person occupancy). (604) 738-7060. thekollel.com/events.


FRI | NOV 25

ANNIVERSARY SHABBAT UNDER THE STARS
Sephardic singles (40s-60s) host tonight’s Shabbat celebration, featuring a catered Middle Eastern dinner and a musical performance by Zirzuvi, a band from Santa Cruz that plays mostly Sephardic music in Ladino, Jewish music in Hebrew and Turkish folk songs. Fri. 6 p.m. $30 (door), $25 (prepaid by Nov. 20), $20 (prepaid chavurah members). Culver City Clubhouse. Call (818) 564-0153 or (323) 294-6084 for more information.


SAT | NOV 26

THE 14th THREE STOOGES BIG-SCREEN EVENT
Whether you’re a knucklehead or a newbie, you soitenly wouldn’t want to miss the annual Stooge-Fest. Spend Thanksgiving Weekend with Larry, Moe, Curly and Shemp as the Alex Theatre screens selected shorts, including “Back to the Woods” (1937), “Goofs and Saddles” (1937), “Mummy’s Dummies” (1948) and “Wee Wee Monsieur” (1938). Lineup is subject to change. Sat. 2 p.m. $15. Alex Theatre, 216 N. Brand Blvd., Glendale. (818) 243-2539. alextheatre.org.


SUN | NOV 27

“PEACE IN OUR TIME”
Casey Stangl directs Noël Coward’s 1946 anti-war melodrama, which imagines a Nazi-occupied England after losing the Battle of Britain to Germany. Set in a South London pub, with a cast of characters affected by the German invasion, the adaptation by Barry Creyton adds 11 songs to the revival and different troupes take turns starring during The Antaeus Company’s run. Sun. Through Dec. 18. 2:30 p.m. $34. Deaf West Theatre, 5112 Lankershim Blvd., North Hollywood. (818) 506-1983. antaeus.org.

“MITCH ALBOM’S HAVE A LITTLE FAITH”
Bradley Whitford (“West Wing”) stars as Albom in this inspirational made-for-TV movie based on the writer’s first nonfiction book after “Tuesdays With Morrie.” Albom connects with two men of faith — a New Jersey rabbi (Martin Landau) who asks him to write his eulogy, and a Detroit pastor (Laurence Fishburne) whose life was once mired in drugs and crime. Affected by the men’s outlooks on life, Albom reconnects with his beliefs and learns the value of helping others. Tony winner Anika Noni Rose (“Dreamgirls,” “Caroline, or Change”) co-stars. Sun. 9 p.m. abc.go.com/shows/have-a-little-faith.


MON | NOV 28

“THE VOLUNTEERS”
Mooly Landesman’s 2009 documentary explores the search for identity in the kibbutz movement of the 1960s. The film follows a group of non-Jewish Europeans who traveled to the Jewish state and looks at the realities that emerge when individuals from different backgrounds start families. Mon. 6-8 p.m. Free. UCLA Campus, Royce Hall 362, Los Angeles. (310) 825-9646. international.ucla.edu/israel.


TUE | NOV 29

TOM BROKAW AND MARTY KAPLAN
The veteran broadcaster discusses his recently released book, “The Time of Our Lives,” which raises questions about our relationship to our communities and our country, with Jewish Journal columnist Marty Kaplan. Tue. 7:30 p.m. $20. Writers Guild Theater, 135 S. Doheny Drive, Beverly Hills. writersblocpresents.com.


THU | DEC 1

“THEY WERE AMONG US: REMBERING 30 YEARS OF AIDS”
Beth Chayim Chadashim and Project Chicken Soup co-sponsor a program of history, testimony and memory on World AIDS Day, featuring people who experienced the early years of AIDS, including long-term survivors, physicians, activists, writers and performers. Buffet, beverages and no-host bar. Thu. 6:30-9:30 p.m. Free (reservation required). ONE National Gay & Lesbian Archives, 909 W. Adams Blvd., Los Angeles. (323) 931-7023. oneworldaidsday2011.org.


FRI | DEC 2

IT’S A GUY THING: A WEEKEND RETREAT
Eighth- and ninth-grade boys and the men who raise them unplug from their busy lives for some bonding time during this weekend retreat in Simi Valley. Fri. Through Dec. 4. $150 (per adult/teen pair). Brandeis-Bardin Campus of the American Jewish University, 1101 Pepper Tree Lane, Simi Valley. (323) 761-8243. jewishla.org/guything.

SOUL SOUNDS SHABBAT
Shabbat is hardly ever this eclectic. South American bossa nova and Sephardic music collide with jazz, rock, folk and classical sounds during this musical Shabbat experience at Wilshire Boulevard Temple. If you really want to complete the experience, you’re going to have to eat: Visit the synagogue’s Web site and order a picnic dinner from Factor’s Deli in advance of the event. 6 p.m. Free (picnic dinner not included). Wilshire Boulevard Temple, Irmas Campus, 11661 W. Olympic Blvd., Los Angeles. (310) 445-1280. wilshireboulevardtemple.org.

Calendar Picks and Clicks: November 22-December 2 Read More »

Lox, Wine, Gopnik, God

In his 2002 essay “A Purim Story,” Adam Gopnik describes what sounds like a religious experience, but what others might just call brunch.

“The next day I decided to return to the only Jewish tradition with which I was at all confident,” he writes, “and that was having smoked fish at eleven o’clock on Sunday mornings. Every Sunday morning throughout my childhood my grandfather would arrive with the spread — salty lox and unctuous sable and dry whitefish and sweet pickled salmon.”

That story is not included in Gopnik’s wonderful new book, “The Table Comes First: Family, France and the Meaning of Food.” But then again, in a way, it is. A boy and his food memories are not easily parted: trust me, I know. The mysterious power of that ritual — the most specifically Jewish act in Gopnik’s otherwise secular upbringing — must have, in some way, compelled Gopnik to embark on the journey described in his new book. 

Because “The Table Comes First” is, first and foremost, about the hold — beyond hunger and appetite — that food has on us.

“If our questions of food matter,” he writes in the introduction, “it is because they imply most of the big fights about who we are — our notion of clan and nation, identity and individual.”

I read that line and thought, “Hey, that’s what I think.” So, of course, I arranged to meet Gopnik, a staff writer at The New Yorker, on his book tour through Los Angeles. I fantasized we’d share a long, hopefully French meal with lots of wine and high-calorie bonding. I settled for a quick visit over warm coffee between tour appearances.

We sat down in the B&B-esque lobby of The Georgian Hotel in Santa Monica. Gopnik’s book-jacket photo shows him in full-on New Yorker intellectual intimidation pose: staring straight at the camera, eyes focused, thinning hair over a deeply furrowed brow. Unposed, he is much more amiable — a quick laugher, an enthusiastic talker. I once interviewed “Mad Men” creator Matt Weiner and came away thinking no one in the world spoke faster or in more complete and polished paragraphs. Adam Gopnik makes Matt Weiner sound like Rick Perry.

No ordinary food book, I said to Gopnik, begins with the story of a condemned resistance fighter recounting memories of favorite meals. His does. In France, circa 1942, Jacques Decour, about to face a Gestapo firing squad, spent his last hours composing a letter to his parents, recalling all the great meals he had eaten.

Take that, Rachel Ray.

“I wanted to say to the reader, the stakes are very high here,” Gopnik explained. “It’s not just about food; it’s something else.”

That “something else” is what Gopnik uncovers in the course of his meticulous reporting and research. 

He spends a lot of time in the past, exploring the “twin pillars” of our food culture — restaurants and recipes.

The word restaurant, he reports, first appeared in France in 1750 — the name for the restorative beef or chicken bouillon that inn owners served to weary travelers.

But what cemented the restaurant as a social and cultural force, what brought people and food together outside of kitchens and castles, was a law passed after the French Revolution that made it legal to sell coffee and wine in the same place.

“Without good strong coffee and red wine,” Gopnik writes in one of the greatest and truest sentences in the history of food writing, “it isn’t possible to have good restaurants.”

Cafés, Gopnik goes on to argue, are more important than restaurants in the spread of food culture: The twin drugs of caffeine and alcohol work a kind of social magic.  

If cafés kick-started Western civilization by encouraging us to eat good food together, our contemporary obsession with food challenges us to find the right way to enjoy it.

Exploring what this modern obsession says about food takes Gopnik into the world of the farm-obsessed locavores, the flesh-eating fanaticism of Fergus Henderson and the meat-abhorring high horsiness of Jonathan Safran Foer. Gopnik also describes an enviable interlude spent with the Michelin-starred vegetarian chef Alain Passard. Who says you have to suffer for your art? 

But eventually, the writer zeros in on his discovery: Food, he explains, doesn’t just have a flavor taste; it also has a “moral taste.”   

“The Orthodox Jew likes the flavor of brisket at the Seder,” he writes, “but his liking it is something more than fashion. It is a moral taste — in his eyes, eating brisket is an ethical position.”

Moral tastes can and do change with cultures and time, but they are as intrinsic to flavor as salty or sour. 

“Diet,” Gopnik observes, “is always the site of ritual convincing itself that it is reason.”

Unlike so many food books these days, Gopnik doesn’t wrestle with the right way to eat as much as he observes our constant and enduring need to sauce our appetite with morality.

“Whatever the real meaning of eating is,” he tells me, “it’s not about making super-fine discriminations beyond the point of sanity; it’s not even about saving our lives or saving the planet. … Pleasure is an adequate principle in itself.”

This tension between pleasure and principle fascinates Gopnik. When I tell him about my own food dilemmas — my wife, the rabbi, is strictly kosher, while I’m … not so much — he reverses the interview.

“If you asked your wife, how would she explain, as an intellectual living in this time, why she eats kosher?” he asks.

“She believes,” I say. “It’s not about reason.”

Gopnik eats the answer up.

“This is my point,” he says. “It’s simultaneously deeply ridiculous, and it’s genuinely significant. And worth doing. That’s the secret of life.”

Yes, you heard him right: In his book and right there at The Georgian, Gopnik offers up the secret to life — to somehow live with the awareness of its eternal importance and essential absurdity at the same time.

“You need to be both ironic and serious,” he said. “You need to have enough distance from your passions to see their absurdity. But also to grant them the necessity.”

How else to make sense of the spell food casts on us far beyond our need to eat?

Gopnik understands, and in our last moments together, nailed it.

“We often are uneasy with the idea that food is art; it seems a little precious to us and rightly so,” he told me. “But no one ever has any difficulty with the idea that food is, essentially, faith.

“Every community, every tribe, every group, every civilization invents a way of eating that expresses who they are, and that is, ultimately, that’s really the answer. It’s not about taste, as important as taste is. It’s not about the farm, as important as that is. It’s not even about the planet. It’s about who we are and how we take our necessities.”

I leap in and tell Gopnik that this is exactly what I’ve been trying to get at in my Foodaism blog. Just as our souls are housed in our bodies, our spirit comes through in what, and how, we eat.

“We feed our flesh to feed our souls,” I say. 

“Exactly,” Gopnik says, “Who said that?” 

“Me,” I say.  

In his new book, Gopnik actually says the same thing, but better. About Decour, the doomed resistance fighter, and his final food memories, he writes, “It was the closest he could come, as close as he needed to come, to an idea of the sacred.”

Gopnik might as well be writing about himself, at age 7, holding his grandfather’s hand in front of the deli counter, facing a heaven of smoked fish.

Lox, Wine, Gopnik, God Read More »

Letter to the Editor: Demographic Duo

Dear Jewish Journal,

I read with great concern the dual columns about intermarriage from your “demographic duo,” Dr. Bruce Phillips (“Jewish Intermarriage Declining?” 11/15/11) and Pini Herman (“Jewish Intermarriage was down in 2000, who’s going to claim credit?” 11/21/11), and was distressed much more by what was omitted than by what was said.  While Dr. Phillips’ column may serve as good advocacy in an attempt to spark interest in “a 2010 National Jewish Population Study”—and by the way, isn’t it almost 2012 already?—it does a dangerously deceptive job of explaining Jewish intermarriage in America.

As Dr. Phillips understands perhaps better than anyone else—and why I have so much respect for much of what he’s had to say on the topic—the battle is no longer about stemming the tide of intermarriage, but rather engaging the children of intermarried families. He himself has demonstrated how valuable this has been for at least one major Jewish community through his important San Francisco Jewish demographic study.

Rather than just titillate, a responsible version of his column would have pointed out that today in America, there are more intermarried than in-married households.  There are more Americans under 20 born to just one Jewish parent than to two.  Jewish demographic growth—barring a sudden and unpredicted increase in Jewish birth rates—hinges primarily on the community’s ability to encourage and support the raising of Jewish children by intermarried parents.

That the intermarriage rate among Jews with two Jewish parents may have declined is a measurement of just one segment of Jews, a segment that may also be a decreasing minority.  Dr. Phillips’ readers would have been better served had he instead focused on the results of these “individual rates” of intermarriage: that even a “declined” individual rate of 33% among Jews with two Jewish parents results in as many intermarried as in-married households.  I encourage Dr. Phillips to dedicate at least one column to demonstrate the deceptive difference between the “individual” and “couples” rates of intermarriage, allowing his readers to fully understand just how big a segment of our community is already intermarried. Perhaps such a column could also reiterate how essential it is that the focus of the community continues to move toward engagement—for all Jewish households—and not revert to the obsession over intermarriage rates that most Jews, apparently including his colleague Pini Herman, don’t fully understand.

Paul Golin
Associate Executive Director
Jewish Outreach Institute

Letter to the Editor: Demographic Duo Read More »

Social service agencies facing more complex needs

Two years ago, I did a series of interviews with Jewish community members hit hard by the recession. At that time, they were mostly optimistic that things would turn around soon, but when I checked back this month, I found that they’re all still struggling to find their footing in this unstable job market. Social service agencies I contacted say this is not surprising.

“What we’re seeing is that what looked like a crisis initially is now sort of the status quo, said Susie Forer-Dehrey, chief operating officer of Jewish Family Service (JFS) of Los Angeles. “People who thought that things would be temporary are now seeing them as more permanent, so people are coming through our doors with very difficult situations. The needs are growing and are more complex than ever.”

The unemployed cover the spectrum of age and past experience, according to Jay Soloway, director of education and training at Jewish Vocational Service (JVS). JVS sees many clients through Community Connections at the JFS/SOVA Community Food and Resource Program, where it has career counselors on site during food pantry hours.

“Until the recession hit, the majority of the clients we saw at SOVA were chronically unemployed, with limited language, education and work skills. But since the recession has taken hold … we see this whole other group of individuals who are educated, who were in classic white-collar jobs, in administration or management.  They have told us on numerous occasions that they never thought there would be a day when they would need to come to a food pantry to put food on the table,” Soloway said.

JVS guides clients to visit the resource center, where they can get help with interviewing skills, networking, building a resume or information about re-educating themselves for a new career.

Through Community Connections, JVS saw 2,059 clients in 2010-2011, a 47 percent increase over 2009, which in itself was a 100 percent increase over 2008.

The number of first-time clients continues to climb at a steady pace, and JVS works with a growing number of people who have been unemployed for months or years, Soloway said.

“This prolonged unemployment precipitates all kinds of issues in terms of emotional stress and financial stress, not just on the individual, but on the family as well,” Soloway said.

The Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles has included $100,000 for job training in its proposed 2012 budget. That fund will help cover out-of-pocket costs for job re-education programs, many of which are already subsidized by government or philanthropic agencies, according to Andrew Cushnir, The Federation’s chief program officer.

The proposed 2012 budget allocates a total of $5 million toward helping local Jews in need, a $250,000 increase over last year, Cushnir said.

Federation has included in that budget $150,000 to help Jews in danger of losing their home, or who are already homeless — a growing problem, Cushnir said. Federation has partnered with JFS on the Jewish Homeless Crisis Intervention Fund, so JFS can help clients access resources that will lead to more stable housing situations.

Those initiatives come on top of Emergency Cash Grants, a Federation program that provides one-time emergency funds of up to $1,800 for a family to cover medical, housing, employment or child-care needs. Since the program’s inception in early 2009, Federation has allocated 1,684 grants totaling $2,341,683.

Applicants access the grants through synagogues, schools and social service agencies, a system aimed at bringing clients into the social service network. Federation has also partnered with synagogues, JFS and the Federation’s Board of Rabbis on a program that will place social workers in synagogues to serve congregants and community members. Kehillat Israel in Pacific Palisades and University Synagogue in Brentwood are piloting the Caring Communities program, funded in part by a grant from the Jewish Community Foundation, with expansion slated for synagogues in the East Valley and the West Valley, as well as to clients of Tomchei Shabbos, which provides weekly groceries to Jewish families in need.

Federation allocated $2.3 million to JFS in 2011. JFS has continued to see a steep uptick in the number of clients needing services — from food programs to mental health services to support for the elderly and disabled. But government cuts have shuttered some programs, including Adult Day Health Care and Linkages, which offered day programs for the elderly and disabled, respectively.

Calls to JFS’ Central Access phone line have increased from 300 a month in 2008 to 400 a month today. JFS/SOVA has jumped from 6,000 clients a month in 2008 to more than 13,000 in 2011, a number that continues to go up every month.

Forer-Dehrey said JFS strives to make the process of getting help on multiple fronts easy and streamlined. Clients should have to tell their story only once, when they call the Central Access number, or when they see an intake counselor.

Intake counselors offer hours at SOVA’s three pantry sites through the Community Connections program. During food pantry hours, SOVA clients can also meet with attorneys from Bet Tzedek legal services, representatives of government aid programs, counselors and social workers from JFS, and career counselors from JVS.

Forer-Dehrey of JFS laments that often counseling gets cut first when funding becomes tight.

“People need to talk about what is going on in their lives, and how they see themselves as part of a trajectory of moving themselves forward. That is important to the whole process,” she said.

But even for the families, pressing demands often crowd out the attention they might pay to mental health.

“People are really overwhelmed right now,” said Megan Koehler, director of program services at Jewish Big Brothers Big Sisters of Los Angeles.

She said the program hasn’t seen a big uptick in the past few years, partly because the organization couldn’t fund a recruitment director, and partly because choosing a mentor for a child is not a priority when a family is deciding whether to skip paying rent so they can pay for medical care.

Financial stress is apparent for both the children who need help and their adult mentors. Koehler said she perceives that more adult volunteers are unable to continue because they are relocating to find employment. Applications to the college scholarship fund that little brothers and sisters are eligible for have included heartbreaking tales of financial hardship, she said.

“The impact is not only on the family, but on us, as we’re supporting that family,” Koehler said. “Our primary focus is on making sure the mentor/mentee relationship is strong and solid and safe and healthy, but we are really broadening our role, because so many additional variables are impacting families.” 

Agencies continue to look for more funding so they can service the growing demands, but people are not getting what they need, Forer-Dehrey said. With budgets stretched taut, JFS no longer talks of being a safety net that will prevent the fall, she said, but doing what it can to soften the inevitable impact.

And no one knows when things might turn around.

“About a year ago, I was saying that I saw a shadow of a glimmer of a hint of light on the horizon, and now I don’t say that anymore,” JVS’ Soloway said.

“Economists have tried to analyze this, but I don’t think anyone really understands what is happening.” l

Social service agencies facing more complex needs Read More »

Grateful for what?

One of the great human virtues is gratitude. In Jewish tradition, we are encouraged to make at least 100 blessings of gratitude a day. The very first words we say every morning are “I give thanks before you, eternal King, for having restored to me my soul.”

In fact, the idea of gratitude is woven right into the name of our people.

As Rabbi Benjamin Blech writes on Aish.com: “The reason we are known as Jews is because most of us are descended from Judah. Of the 12 children who came from Jacob, 10 of the tribes of Israel were lost, scattered to unknown destinations and no longer identifiable by their heritage. We, who remained, other than the priests and Levites, stem either from the large tribe of Judah or the much smaller one of Benjamin. Since the odds are very great that the survivors of historic diminution by assimilation or persecution are in the majority from Judah, we are called Jews.”

But what is it about the tribe of Judah that helped it survive above the others?

“A number of Jewish commentators believe the secret of Judah’s blessings are implicit in the Hebrew meaning of his name,” Blech writes. “When Leah, his mother, gave birth to him she said, ‘This time I will give thanksgiving unto the Lord; therefore she called his name Judah’ (Genesis 29:35) — from the Hebrew hodah, giving thanks.”

The desire to show gratitude is so ingrained in Jewish tradition that if a Jew lacks this trait, the Talmud says it’s quite possible that that person might not even be Jewish. Of course, the fact that for the past few thousand years most Jews have observed a weekly Thanksgiving ritual, also known as Shabbat, has certainly helped nurture this grateful impulse.

In today’s world, however, there is an enemy of gratitude that lurks all around us, and which our ancestors did not have to brave in the shtetls of Poland and Morocco. That enemy is advertising — around-the-clock commercial assaults that tell us never to be satisfied with what we have. There’s always a better toothpaste, a better car, a better pair of jeans, a better coffee — a better anything — waiting for us, if only we will discard the one we already have.

This points to a dilemma: Gratitude is about being satisfied with the gifts before us, while personal growth is very much about not being satisfied with where we’re at and always reaching higher. Why not seek out better jeans or cars if they will bring us more pleasure? Why not seek constantly to grow our business or careers or organizations if doing so keeps us alive and motivated?

When I started my advertising career, I drove an old Renault that had a hole in the floor and a permanent rope to hold one of the doors closed. Thank God I wasn’t very satisfied with that deathtrap — I was a lot more motivated to work harder so I could afford something better, than I was grateful to drive something that killed my dating life.

Was I not grateful for what I had? Or was I pursuing another Jewish ideal of always trying to make things better? Should we expect the angry protesters at Occupy Wall Street, for example, to be grateful for their lives’ little blessings and fold their protests, or should they continue to fight for what they think they are entitled to?

Someone once asked the Lubavitcher Rebbe if he was happy, to which he answered: “Always happy, never satisfied.”

Yes, but how do we reconcile these two Jewish ideals — the ideal of always being happy with what we have with the ideal of “never being satisfied”?

One way is to look at gratitude itself as a way of improving your life. Robert Emmons, a psychology professor at UC Davis, believes we can all learn how to do it better: “Gratitude is a sustainable approach to life that can be freely chosen for oneself. It is choosing to focus on blessings rather than burdens, gifts rather than curses, and people report that it transforms their lives.”

Another approach is to live with both ideas simultaneously: “Things can be worse” and “Things can be better.” One makes you feel better about your lot; the other motivates you to improve it. They’re like two children: Why pick between them? Say thank you a hundred times a day, and, in between, work hard to make things better.

Maybe that’s the ultimate Jewish ideal: to be able to hold competing ideals in tension and not settle for one or the other. To be grateful, yet never satisfied. To be humble, yet bold enough to do big things. To be open to new ideas, yet know one’s boundaries. To be compassionate, yet firm. To be loving, yet speak hard truths. To be a giver, yet know how to receive. To embrace pleasure, yet seek meaning.

That’s what I plan to be thankful for this Thanksgiving: being born into a tradition that understands life is full of competing ideals and difficult choices, and one that also gives us the wisdom to help us pull off that daily balancing act.

Happy Thanksgiving — and Shabbat shalom.

David Suissa is president of TRIBE Media Corp./Jewish Journal and can be reached at davids@jewishjournal.com.

Grateful for what? Read More »

Who owns a horror?

At the Los Angeles County Museum of Art right now, in the ground-level hall of the Art of the Americas building, right off the main courtyard, a life-sized, lifelike sculptural installation shows a black man being castrated by a group of five white men wearing cartoonish masks.

The scene, titled “Five Car Stud” was created by the artist Ed Kienholz over the years 1969 to 1972 and is set in a darkened room lit by the headlights of four actual automobiles and a pickup truck. A woman who looks like she’s vomiting sits in the truck, and a young boy gazes out in fascination from inside one of the cars. The floor is covered with dirt to make it feel like an off-road clearing, and there are a couple of massive tree trunks in the background, which makes the environment feel authentic, blocking out the fact that it’s an art gallery.

The gruesome realism of the violent scene is mitigated only slightly by the fact that the victim himself is the least-lifelike rendering — his face is formed from transparent plastic, though it is fixed in the midst of a scream that conveys both horror and pain. Adding to the reminder that this is artifice, Kienholz has replaced the man’s chest with a pan of water that contains floating letters which spell a word, starting with n, that describes the black man, a word that cannot be printed here.

It takes four large men to hold the writhing figure down, while a fifth shields the door to the truck holding the woman, presumably the person who was caught with the victim.

This image of violence shatteringly reenacts a kind of racism that regularly took place in this country as recently as 50 years ago. As brutal and realistic as it is, the set is designed to implicate us — the audience — in the action, because as we walk into and through the scene, we draw close, to inspect and in the process become both witnesses and players in what is happening. However inadvertent our part may be, we feel we cannot stop what is happening at this low point of human behavior. There’s no way to interrupt the crime.

I bring all this up because I learned about this artwork when I went to hear a panel discussion at the Getty Center last week, a part of the current region-wide extravaganza of California art called “Pacific Standard Time.” There, a group of artists who make “assemblage art” — works made from everyday objects — had gathered to talk about their medium. One of them was Betye Saar, who, at 85, is a highly distinguished black artist. Another was Nancy Reddin Kienholz, the longtime collaborator of her late husband, Ed Kienholz, though they began working together after Ed had completed “Five Car Stud.” A heated argument about this work at LACMA broke out between the two women, and the audience joined the fray.

“Five Car Stud” has never before been shown in the United States. Soon after its completion in 1972, LACMA was set to show it, then, bowing to objections over the subject, canceled the plan. A museum in London also canceled a commitment to show the work. Just two venues in Germany displayed “Five Car Stud,” after which a Japanese collector acquired it and stored it without exhibitions for 40 years. Only recently, “Five Car Stud” was fully restored by Reddin Kienholz for this installation at LACMA, brought here by Stephanie Barron, chief curator of modern and contemporary art at the museum, who also created a thoughtful introductory entry room for the work.

At the Getty last week, Saar made clear she hadn’t seen the work and had no intention of doing so. She said she knew the substance of the work, however, and that she found the imagery offensive; she also found the use of the word that floats in the water offensive and she questioned why LACMA director Michael Govan chose to put the work on view.

Reddin Kienholz, who is white, defended her husband’s work as social commentary. The crowd literally cheered her on. One woman in the audience, who identified herself as a docent, said she had seen people leave crying after seeing the piece.

As a black woman artist who is of a generation that lived through this kind of crime, Saar’s pain at Kienholz’s depiction is visceral, and her desire to put that kind of imagery out of sight understandable. I do not visit Holocaust museums easily, though I read about them. I do not often see Holocaust films. But I understand that an artist’s ability to reinterpret our history and re-expose us to it is invaluable to a society. If we don’t look evil in the eye, will we be able to say “never again”?

I went to the museum on Sunday and spent quite a while at “Five Car Stud.” I watched people come into its gallery, most of them quietly, although some were giggling at the scene, even laughing or continuing to chat as they passed through. I found the work distasteful and off-putting. But it was also unnervingly real, yet static. Art, but not.

I was struck, too, that the scene recalls similar violence against homosexuals that continues to this day. And the victimization of women in some Muslim communities. The scene, with all its very American specificity, could happen anywhere.

At the Getty, I was not among those applauding the display against Saar’s objections. I am in favor of free speech, but understood her objections. Every group is loath to lend out the pain it has endured for others to examine. Yet I also would not be willing to close the door on a work like this one. I want younger generations to see it, to know that such things happened here, and to talk about them.

Because if we don’t, we might not remember our whole history and choose just the good parts. And it takes an artwork like this one — or a Holocaust museum — to raise the question: Can we afford to look away?

Who owns a horror? Read More »

Washington’s Letter on Religious Freedom Not So Free

Thanksgiving inevitably brings out a wave of gratitude for the religious freedom Jews enjoy in America, but the whereabouts of one of the earliest symbols of that freedom is now causing some consternation among the Jewish community.

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Proud bastards

A few weeks ago we sent out one of our regular e-blasts with the following headline:

“Poll: One in five Americans believes Jews have too much control of Wall Street.”

The linked story details the results of an annual Anti-Defamation League (ADL) survey of anti-Semitic attitudes that showed 20 percent of Americans hold somewhat disagreeable views on Jews.

I didn’t think much of it, until two men I respect for their passion for Jewish life as well as for their cool, dispassionate approach to default Jewish hysteria e-mailed me back.

“The ADL does its annual survey on anti-Semitic attitudes,” read the first e-mail, “and discovers that despite the worst recession since the 1930s, the overall level of anti-Semitic feeling in the U.S. remains at the same level it’s been for six years — half the level it was during the mid-1960s.”

He went on: “The poll shows that this stability has been achieved despite the growth of the Latino immigrant population, meaning that among the rest of the population (including native-born Latinos) anti-Semitism is declining. And it shows that the public overwhelmingly does not believe that the ‘Israel lobby’ has disproportionate power in Washington. And what ends up as the headline? ‘Poll: 1 in 5 Americans believes Jews have too much control of Wall Street.’ ”

The subject line of his e-mail was, “An example of the ‘Oy! Reflex.’ ”

Oy indeed. My second correspondent underscored just how misguided our headline was.

The poll, he wrote, “doesn’t mention that anti-Semitism is at the level it is despite the fact that the lightning rod for populist anger is a firm called Goldman Sachs, not McElroy Finnegan, and despite the fact that you have an Israeli prime minister, one of whose claims to fame is telling [his nation’s] biggest supporter and underwriter to f—- off.

“It is the balm of feeling superior and beyond reproach that allows a study like the ADL’s to proceed as if there is no impact of the conduct by the Jewish community/Israel that contributes to the incremental shifts in answers to the poll’s questions,” the e-mailer continued. “It’s as if the attitudes exist in a vacuum that is irrational and just waiting to manifest bigotry no matter what we do or say.”

OK, he may be a little harsh when it comes to the prime minister — Benjamin Netanyahu acceded to a historic settlement freeze at President Barack Obama’s request before their relationship got frosty. But his point nevertheless hit home. 

Polls like this, and headlines like ours, he wrote, exploit “a fear that no one wants to dismiss out of hand, but is baseless if you look at the data.”

A week later, a press release arrived from Yuli Edelstein, Israel’s Minister of Public Diplomacy and Diaspora Affairs. This time, I was well prepared.  

“Israelis Report 1/3 of Families in Diaspora Are Assimilated,” the big, bold headline read.

The survey of 500 Israeli Jews found that, “24 percent of those with relatives abroad report of assimilation (a member of their family abroad is married to a non-Jewish spouse), 11 percent do not know.”

The survey didn’t report whether the non-Jewish spouse was converting, whether the kids were off at Jewish camp, and as for the 11 percent who “do not know” — I think that means, “Leave us alone with your dumb surveys.”

Let me offer an alternate press release to the ministry’s missive: “Between 76 Percent and 87 Percent of Israeli Jews Abroad Maintain a Strong Sense of Heritage.”

But who wants to read that?

No, our Oy Reflex is so finely honed, we can stare good news right in the face and panic. Give us a glass that’s not just half full, but brimming to the top, and we’ll scream, “Oy, it’s gonna spill!”

The most anti-Semitic incident I can think of in the past year can be found in the report this week that just-released secret government memos show Secretary of State Henry Kissinger calling American Jews “self-serving bastards” because they insisted on trying to free their brethren from oppression in the Soviet Union. It was outrageous, but, hey, it was 1972, and he’s a Jew.

Our default anxiety is all charming, and understandable, given millennia of persecution and, even in our own day, some very real challenges.

But the Oy Reflex causes two big problems. 

One, it leads to panic-based decision-making and misplaced priorities. We spend gobs of money battling anti-Semitism when we should be investing in strengthening education and community. And we throw big, big dollars at programs for “the next generation” — Have a trip! Have a minyan! Have a program! — while an entire generation of spiritually searching 40-, 50- and 60-somethings get written off as lost.

And, two, it prevents us from feeling grateful. We are so busy worrying, so busy trying to get others (especially donors) to worry, we don’t stop to acknowledge how lucky we are to be Jewish in this country, in this time. No, scratch that; in this world at this time.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Proud bastards Read More »