Tikkun olam
Posted: January 7th, 2011
“Tikkun olam” is a phrase in Hebrew that means, “Healing the world.” In Jewish tradition, it expresses the work of every devout individual and every generation to leave the world better than they found it, an ongoing and never-ending obligation passed from parent to child in an unbroken chain through history.
I cannot imagine a better symbol of tikkun olam than the extraordinary, $50-million gift we announced yesterday from the late Charles Kaufman. Throughout his life, this self-made man saved and invested with the express purpose of one day leaving his wealth to the good of the community he loved. In his gift he celebrated his faith in public education, his love of the land, his Jewish heritage, and above all his passionate belief in the ability of science to improve the human condition.
There is a timelessness to the concept of tikkun olam that spoke to me as we announced Mr. Kaufman’s gift. Many people congratulated me in the wake of that announcement and their praise made me uncomfortable. It is wonderful to be in the CEO’s seat when something like this happens, but I knew that Mr. Kaufman’s faith in The Pittsburgh Foundation had grown from nearly 30 years of attentive stewardship by various board members, CEOs, and staff.
For me, his gift was, more than anything else, a reminder of the constancy of this institution, and as much an occasion for humility as for pride. We engage current and future donors at the level of individual relationships, of course, but over time what we promise them is that there will be a continuity and excellence to the Pittsburgh Foundation that will ensure our good stewardship of their resources in perpetuity.
Through all our bumps and triumphs, changes and growth through more than a half century of promoting philanthropy in Pittsburgh, that remains our essential promise, and we deliver on it. Mr. Kaufman’s gift is the fruit of that promise, as demonstrated faithfully by staff and board across nearly three decades of this particular relationship, and across 65-years of our existence. In his generosity Mr. Kaufman reminded all of us who are privileged to be associated with The Pittsburgh Foundation that we are part of a proud and meaningful tradition that was here before us and will continue, if we do our jobs faithfully and well, long after we are gone.
That sentiment is one that knows no boundaries of faith or doctrine. When I expressed these feelings to a member of our board who, among other things, is a church scholar, he wrote back, “Ecclesia non moritur.” This particular board member and I share a love of language, so I was embarrassed to confess to him that he had me stumped.
“Don’t be,” he wrote, letting me off easy. “This is one few people know or use: ‘The church does not die.’ To me it says everything about the importance of continuity, the efforts of some being followed by the effort of others, the cathedral builder who works his whole life knowing he’ll never live to see the cathedral completed… Carry on in your line and fruit will be born in the fullness of time.”
For me, that idea of carrying on in a way that will yield fruit in the future lies at the very heart of philanthropy, and in the heart of every man or woman who makes it his or her task to “heal the world.” Mr. Kaufman’s gift was not just about the money he left behind; far more, it was an expression of hope and commitment to the future that will continue well beyond his, or our, ability to see.
Tikkun olam. What a beautiful way to describe such a precious gift.
Mr. Kaufman, who passed away last fall shortly after his 97th birthday, did not inherit wealth. He never married, he worked throughout his life and he amassed his estate largely during his retirement through his remarkable talents for investing and his astute eye for backing successful entrepreneurial ventures.