Tikkun Olam

The Business Day section of Last Tuesday’s Times reported an interview with Theodore J. Forstmann, a 71-year old billionaire who is fighting brain cancer. The Times interviewed him in his office, where he continues to work, even though the cocktail of medicines he’s taking to combat the cancer is extremely debilitating. He’s working, he said, “because I want to make a pile of money now, stick it in a charitable trust and give it away.” Last year he attended a dinner for billionaires, organized by Bill Gates and Warren Buffett, at which the attendees were asked to sign a pledge to give away more than half their fortune to charity. Mr. Forstmann signed the pledge, but after the dinner, he told his friend Michael Bloomberg, who had encouraged him to attend, “Mike, I already do this. I don’t need any formal pledge.” He wants to spend his money on “kids in the world,” particularly those in Africa, who are the most vulnerable.

Great benefactors like Mr. Forstmann make our own efforts look pitiably meager. So each year when my college solicits me for a donation, I ask myself why I should contribute my mite to an institution whose endowment is in the many billions of dollars. Yet while each year’s contribution is small, when added to amounts I’ve been giving for more than 50 years, the sum becomes substantial. Institutions rely on small donations as well as on large ones, for when many small donations are added together, they create an impressive amount. But even if that were not true, since others contributed to the college to help it while I was a student, I have an obligation to do the same for the students of today.

There are, of course, many ways besides financial contributions to help make the world better. We can donate our time, for example, as a volunteer in schools or hospitals. But even lesser acts can make a difference. A friend of mine reported that recently she noticed a woman walking towards her. Something about the woman attracted her attention, and she looked at her longer than is customary among strangers in New York. In response, the woman gave her a warm smile. My friend, who was feeling blue at the time, felt so much better after that smile.

I’ve been the recipient of the kindness of strangers, particularly during the past five months, while I’ve been disabled with one injury after another. They open doors and hold them open for me, they help me out of taxicabs if the driver does not do so, they offer me their seat on the subway, and so forth. Each of these acts is a tiny one, true, but if everyone acted in this way, the world would be a better place.

Such small behaviors contribute to what in the Jewish tradition is called tikkun olam, repair of the world. Although as individuals we cannot do much towards this goal, taken together, our efforts become as important as those of the great philanthropists, perhaps even more so.