Rabbi Yehiel Kalish is the vice president for development and state relations at Agudath Israel of America. “There is something I call the ‘Michal Jordan effect,’ ” he says. “For five years after the basketball star retired, his former team, the Chicago Bulls, sold out every game. Then, the fans suddenly caught on that the reason they were flocking to games — to see Jordan play — wasn’t relevant anymore. And the Bulls faced declining sales.

“That’s a pertinent principle, because the era of people ‘belonging’ to organizations or causes is over. Just because someone gave or came or cared last year, it doesn’t mean you have him this year. You need to keep your message significant and your activities updated, and any organization with an eye on the ball is working to adjust.”

Reb Benzion Fishoff was a key figure in reestablishing the infrastructure of the Torah world after the Holocaust; decades later, he is viewed as a senior statesman in the American Agudah community. He agrees that the idealism of his generation has gone — but ironically, it’s a result of the community’s success.

“Back in the 1950s, there was no such thing as a professional askan,” he says. “It was Mike Tress, or Rabbi Sherer, and a group of volunteers. In time, the organizations succeeded and they were able to hire staff — and so people stop feeling that pressure to do. It’s not the fault of today’s young people, it’s just that the sense of urgency is gone. There are organizations out there for every conceivable need — what’s an individual to do?”

Rabbi Kalish agrees. “One of the most effective campaigns I’ve seen in recent years was the response to Hurricane Sandy, the way people just sprang into action at a moment’s notice and displayed incredible capabilities. There was no time for meetings, no time to order sushi and appoint people to committees — it was a real emergency, and people felt the importance. There was no announcement in shul, ‘Anyone who wants to help, go to Achiezer.’ People understood, they really believed it, and they responded.”

Yoeli Grossman of Boro Park echoes the sentiment, though with a touch more cynicism. “I work at a large electronics store and barely make ends meet. I live in a rented apartment and I’m on no one’s ‘welcoming committee’ lists and have never been asked to come to a meeting of the ‘young leadership.’ I’m not rich, so I was kind of invisible to the organizations. Corporate askanus ignored me.” He shrugs. “But after the hurricane, they needed people to pump out basements, and that’s something I can do, so I showed up.”

Grossman was reliable and calm, and his hard work was noticed. “Some of the big-name askanim, who made a big show of rolling up their sleeves and looking appropriately anxious, spent a few minutes working and then they needed a break, or they would ask a million questions about how to actually do the job. They were clueless when it came to real work. I did what they asked me, and came back for the next job.”

As the coordinators learned about Yoeli’s abilities, he changed his own self-perception as well. “Now I step up for any cause, any organization, that needs help. I spend Thursday nights in a warehouse packaging and delivering Shabbos parcels and it’s the high point of my week. Hurricane Sandy was my rebbi. It taught me who I am.”

Passing the Torch

In order to really attract younger askanim, says Reb Avrohom Biderman, cochairman of Shuvu, the older generation has to do a better job of empowering them.

“My father and his generation came here, to America, after the war and somehow, they had to recreate a world. The same way they managed to push their own pain aside to start families and raise children, they also found a way to rebuild a new world, yeshivos and Bais Yaakovs and shuls. When my generation got married and settled down, our parents were thrilled to pass the torch to us. They were justifiably tired and when we stepped up, they were finally able to catch their breath.

“But my generation,” continues Mr. Biderman, “isn’t moving aside for our children. We ask them to pitch in, to help the cause, but when it comes to real relevance, to making decisions and carrying the burden, we’re not letting go. If we want them to accomplish, then we have be able to graciously hand over the reins. They don’t want to be ‘young leadership.’ They want real achrayus.”

But it isn’t that simple, according to the chief executive of one of the better-known tzedakah organizations, who asked to remain anonymous. He doesn’t think that it’s simply a lack of real influence or opportunity that is preventing the younger generation from following in the footsteps of their parents. He feels strongly that the under-40 set is wired differently. And he isn’t very optimistic about the direction in which askanus is headed.

“The term ‘young leadership’ is an oxymoron,” this executive says. “It implies that people without experience are somehow going to be inspired to do the right thing, the right way. In fact, when the young crowd is asked to come up with funding, they tend to waste countless dollars on golf tournaments, dinner cruises, star-studded entertainment, and elaborate catering. They have no chinuch in writing big checks or in asking — yes, begging!— their friends to do so. Everyone just wants to have fun and avoid asking for money.

“It is misguided and wrong, sets a terrible precedent, and leads to a can-you-top-this effect, with subsequent events required to outshine and outspend that of their friends. No one wants to criticize these young leaders, since we are hoping they will step up to the plate and be the real givers of tomorrow. It has not worked and will not work.

“Perhaps it isn’t fair to judge a generation who did not come out of World War II to a new world urging them to rebuild Klal Yisrael. That challenge is what inspired the older generation to devote themselves with mesirus nefesh to work for the klal for no pay and little kavod. The magic just isn’t there for the young crowd of today.”

Rabbi Yosef Karmel, national director of P’eylim/Lev L’Achim, takes a gentler view of the situation. “The new Klal Yisrael,” he says, “is next door. Today’s conscientious askanim need not venture out of their own ‘daled amos.’ The typical family, weighted down by multiple tuitions while helping to support the married children in kollel, is a mossad all its own.

“And even if the frum father of today has some wherewithal left over, as soon as he steps out of his own home, he is faced with the needs all around him competing for his help — the neighbor who can’t afford to make a chasunah, the brother-in-law whose child needs special tutors, the fellow in shul who can’t find a job. So before one can turn his attention to the major yeshivos and klal organizations, he is already maxed out with commitments. We cannot ask ‘where are the klal askanim?’ as long as there are so many people helping on the personal and local community level. Just add up the amounts going to causes like Tomchei Shabbos, Hachnassas Kallah, and Bikur Cholim, and you will see millions of dollars, all moving small distances, unnoticed by the greater public.”

The paparazzi effect hasn’t helped either. Rabbi Yanky Zahler of Lakewood’s Beth Medrash Govoha notes that the constant exposure — images of pre-dinner meetings and visuals of every sort of activism — gives the participants a sense of having done something before they actually have. “Writing a check means being involved, but if there are color photos of you sitting at a meeting in every paper in town, then you start believing that you’re doing amazing things. Ten or twenty years ago, things weren’t so public or superficial.”

As a prominent lay leader wryly observes, “Someone needs to tell the young people that buzz isn’t the same thing as money. I don’t care how much noise you generated — hype won’t pay my rebbeim.”

Chinuch in Askanus

Others suggest that, to paraphrase Rabbi Moshe Sherer, the rising needs of the “Reb Yisrael’s” are blocking the path to Klal Yisrael.

When Rabbi Yehiel Kalish had the opportunity to go speak with Brisker rosh yeshivah Rav Avrohom Yehoshua Soloveitchik, he asked the rosh yeshivah about this phenomenon. In Brisker fashion, Rav Avrohom Yehoshua broke it down for him.

One of the defining traits of a Yid, said the rosh yeshivah, is to be compassionate. It’s natural for an individual to feel drawn to help others, but this inclination to askanus finds a home through the acts of chesed performed on an individual level.

“The poor man knocking at his door, the neighbor who needs a hand… that’s his askanus.”

The rosh yeshivah said that it’s only a rare character, a “yachid,” who finds fulfillment in doing for a wide public. Rav Avrohom Yehoshua named several figures whom he considered to be “chiddushim,” blessed with a rare sense of mission — Reb Moshe Sherer, Zev Wolfson, and Irving Bunim among them — but maintained that one cannot expect that kind of vision or drive from the general population.

Yitzchok Fuchs, one of Flatbush’s foremost askanim, realized the truth of the rosh yeshivah’s statement — and also, that a steady, determined effort towards yechidim will ultimately change Klal Yisrael.

“It’s spending a few minutes with the teenager on the corner, inviting him out for a hamburger or pizza. It adds up, and then when you’ve helped him a little, maybe a few other boys, you’ve become a partner in their future homes, in their lives as erliche Yidden, and there you go, you’re changing the world one boy at a time. The gratification of attending their chasunahs, the simchahs for their children, it’s unmatched. It’s how you do for Klal Yisrael.”

But, Fuchs firmly believes, since there is little glory in working on an individual level, away from the limelight, the only way to create new askanim is through role models. “There are books out there, biographies on people like Mike Tress or Rav Shraga Feivel Mendlowitz, that invest the reader with a sense of achrayus to Klal Yisrael.”

A product of summers in Camp Munk, Yitzchok points out that a disproportionate share of his fellow campers have distinguished themselves in the public sphere.

“It’s because we had a head counselor like Rabbi Josh Silbermintz who was on fire for Klal Yisrael,” he feels. “Rabbi Silbermintz exuded that sense of duty, and he managed to inoculate his talmidim and campers with it. Those influenced by Rabbi Yehuda Oelbaum or Rabbi Dovid Trenk can’t help but feel enthused and motivated to do.”

Rabbi Zvi Bloom, the indefatigable executive director of Torah Umesorah, agrees. “I can’t speak for what drives other people. My father, Rabbi Shmuel Bloom, and my rebbi, Rav Yaakov Bender, are bursting with achrayus and dedication, so being exposed to them, one automatically absorbs it. Rabbi Shea Fishman transmitted this contagious concern for Klal Yisrael. I don’t know of another way to create askanim.”

Rabbi Karmel says that veteran askanim can transmit something beyond their fire. He names Reb Avrohom Fruchthandler and his fellow lay leaders at Yeshivas Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin as an example of how effective askanim are actively teaching their 30-something children what real responsibility is.

“They’ve realized all the major goals they set for themselves more than 40 years ago — the yeshivah campuses have been rebuilt, the mortgages on the buildings paid, the salaries and benefits of the rebbeim raised, endowment funds created, and kollel housing being built. Yet the devoted balabatim are hard at work with a new mission — they are cultivating and inserting young balabatim into every facet of their operation. These young men are watching their elders at work and are absorbing the lessons. They are being put in place for a new generation, and will be equipped with the sensitivities and mesorah of the old dor. That is how the askanim of tomorrow will know what to do, how to give, and that the responsible financial stewardship of our mosdos starts with carefully raising the money and then carefully allocating it.”

Getting Out There

In the chassidishe world, askanus is clearly flourishing. “As many hands are necessary for any endeavor,” says Rabbi Moshe Aaron Hoffman of Satmar, “we have twice as many offers. The yungeleit are eager to get involved.”

The Satmar focus on community begins from childhood. “The Rebbe ztz”l established the chassidus here in America with a firm insistence that the children go out and collect,” Rabbi Hoffman explains. “He wanted them to circulate in the shuls and neighborhoods with pushkes. Even the wealthy children were expected to go, because he wanted them to develop a sense of achrayus. Until this day, the talmidim in our mosdos are involved in helping out, and as they grow older, we see the results.”

In Belz, talmidim are carefully monitored; if a talmid shows a proclivity or flair for organization or coordination, responsibilities come his way. “It may be something small,” says a senior administrator within the chassidus, “like arranging a Chanukah gift for his melamed. As he grows more confident, he might be charged with coordinating logistics for a Shabbos hisva’adus. The Rebbe recognizes that there are people with a natural skill for public effectiveness, and he wants that to be cultivated through the yeshivah years so that when the bochur becomes a yungerman, he is ready for serious askanus.”

In Lubavitch, perhaps more than anywhere else, talmidim are invested with a sense of their own global responsibilities. Teenagers are routinely sent to Third World countries and distant locations to assist with making a Pesach Seder or leading Rosh Hashanah davening; as adults, stepping up to help in communal endeavors comes naturally to them.

It’s in the yeshivah community that the question is still unresolved. As Shai Markowitz articulates the issue: “Ideally, there should be a shift in responsibilities every decade or so, which would allow for fresh blood without a complete gap in understanding. But if the gap between generations is 30 or 40 years, then of course there is mutual distrust. BlackBerry is still the number-one device when it comes to e-mail use… but that company lost a billion dollars this year because it didn’t speak to a new generation, which values gimmickry at least as much as efficiency.”

His suggestion? “Create mentors. Even as the younger generation is given real jobs, starting with smaller ones and working their way up, those that will ultimately pass the baton should stay involved as mentors, working, counseling, and guiding the newer askanim. This way, we have the experience of the older generation directing the energy of the younger one.”

Making It Personal

If there is a rule that executive directors are buying into, it’s that necessity drives productivity. To breed askanim, it’s important to show them why their efforts are so indispensable.

A volunteer at a major food distribution organization reflects on physical involvement in the actual process — packaging food, loading up the van and delivering the parcels — brings a tremendous sense of fulfillment to the volunteers. It’s not glamorous, but it gives them a taste of accomplishment, and so they come.

Similarly, Yanky Arem, chairman of Lev L’Achim’s American board, has spearheaded the effort to bring young people in to the ranks of the organization by arranging delegations from Flatbush, Lawrence, and Lakewood to visit Eretz Yisrael. When they arrive, they’re treated to an intensive whirlwind tour of Lev L’Achim’s myriad programs. The result, says Mr. Arem, is a new generation of balabatim who have a firsthand knowledge of what it is the gedolim are praising when they voice their support for Lev L’Achim. “These young leaders are committed and are already influencing their friends and associates to come on board. The ‘young leadership’ concept works — and we’re reaping the benefits of our investment in a new generation.”

It also made the cause personal, recalls a participant. “Seeing the incredible dedication of the kiruv workers, and the thirst of the secular Israeli clientele, made the need for the funds much clearer. It was like watching someone bake cookies — seeing the flour become dough, then evolve into food — instead of buying cookies at the bakery.”

Shai Markowitz quotes Benjamin Franklin, who said “Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I may remember. Involve me and I learn.”

“If we can communicate this, how important each person’s contribution and work is,” sighs Meir Pfeffer, “then 90 percent of our work is done. The only question is how to make that point.”

The note of caution sounded by everyone I spoke with is the same: Don’t ignore the younger generation. Don’t shut them out.

Many people scoffed at the work experience of a young senator from Illinois with presidential aspirations. Youthful Barack Obama had been an effective community organizer, but had little by way of real political experience. Yet he was able to triumph over a very accomplished opponent precisely because he had mastered the art of electrifying the young people, using text messages and social media to galvanize them and hold their interest. And ultimately it was that demographic — the millennials — who propelled the senator to the White House.

Marketing expert Yitzchok Saftlas has advised many mosdos to this effect. “Mosdos need to understand that the younger generation has its own means of communicating. Those organizations who find a way to really connect with new faces — even if it means investing in dedicated staff members — will remain vibrant.”

“I guess this is the secret,” concludes a tired Meir Pfeffer. “Getting the younger people to buy into what we’re doing, to care. Just because we’re around for 35 years doesn’t guarantee anything. We have our work cut out for us if we hope to endure.”

Rabbi Zahler feels that the future is bright. “Under the radar, many good things are happening. In every development or neighborhood, in hospitals and shuls, there are tzaddikim who give themselves away for others. A burgeoning kehillah comes with all sorts of issues, more than in previous years. And on a local level, there is no shortage of heroes.”

Rabbi Yaakov Bernfeld of Adopt-A-Kollel, an organization conceived, launched and in great part, propelled by the younger generation, echoes the positive conclusion. “I think there are many young people eager to get involved who just haven’t yet found the opportunity. Traveling for our organization, I encounter enormous energy and interest from young men, who are ready to expend themselves on behalf of people across the globe. Lo alman Yisrael. I’m not worried.”

From the Trenches

Mishpacha asked three veteran askanim — Reb Dovid Greenblatt, Gateways lecturer and prominent tzedakah activist of Lawrence, New York; Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman, executive director and president of the United Jewish Organizations of Williamsburg; and Reb Shloime Werdiger, chairman of the board of trustees of Agudath Israel of America — to share advice for tomorrow’s askanim from their years in the trenches.

I could never get through my day without…

Keeping in mind that “perseverance triumphs” — or as the pasuk [Mishlei 24:16] expresses it, “Sheva yipol tzaddik vakam.” Since you are doing Hashem’s work, He ensures that your determined efforts ultimately reach the appropriate and best place, though you may not see early on how that is going to unfold.

 —Reb Dovid Greenblatt

The support of family and close friends.

 —Reb Shloime Werdiger

Constantly keeping the advice of Chazal to the public activist in front of me. The Mishnah in Avos reminds us to serve the public “l’Sheim Shamayim” because they have zechus avos helping them. In essence, nothing is us, and we are merely playing our role so that their zechusim can be realized.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

The most powerful phrase for an askan is:

V’chol mi she’oskim b’tzorchei tzibbur b’emunah… HaKadosh Baruch Hu yeshaleim s’charam. No one else.

 —Reb Shloime Werdiger

It might be my actions, but it’s your tefillos that will make this happen.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

If I was starting again today, here’s what I would do differently…

Back then I needed to understand that every individual has his own priorities, which may be very different from yours. You cannot easily change another’s priorities. You must figure out how to help others within their own value system. Since chesed is primarily about helping to remove emotional distress, helping people (within reason) get where they wish to go is the goal.

 —Reb Dovid Greenblatt

I would have started earlier on cultivating the next generation of askanim.

 —Reb Shloime Werdiger

I would be much clearer about the fact that you can’t solve problems a) all at once, and b) by yourself.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

When the going gets tough…

I think of the many rabbanim and rebbes who do not tire from helping others. I take comfort in knowing that I have a wonderful wife baruch Hashem who will help “rebuild” me after a hard challenge has beaten me up a little.

 —Reb Dovid Greenblatt

I think of my father z”l and the many other Holocaust survivors who endured so much and came here and got right down to work.

 —Reb Shloime Werdiger

I think of the koach of the one who “sent” me here, the Satmar Rebbe ztz”l, and that therefore, I have no right to give up. I look at the many beleaguered, persecuted Jews around the globe who struggle for Yiddishkeit and I remind myself that the freedom we enjoy is just an achrayus, a responsibility to do more and more.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

My secret advisor is…

I don’t go to just one advisor. I go to wise rabbanim, admorim, baalei mussar, businesspeople — whoever has experience in the area in which I need advice. Great and wise people are ready and willing to help askanim because they appreciate what they accomplish.

 —Reb Dovid Greenblatt

A group of rabbanim and leaders whom I lean on for advice and guidance.

 —Re Shloime Werdiger

The Ribbono shel Olam. He advises anyone willing to listen, hears me out, and always directs me on the right path for me. And everything is kept secret.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

The moment when I knew it was all worth it…

All askanim have rewarding moments when they have seen success, but that alone doesn’t keep them going. A true askan is driven by what he sees as his responsibility to the One who kindly gives life — not by whether “it was worth it.”

 —Reb Dovid Greenblatt

When I looked out at 92,000 people who’d come together just to be mekadeish Sheim Shamayim.

 —Reb Shloime Werdiger

Meeting newly freed Jewish refugees as they cross the border, and experiencing their boundless joy and gratitude to Hashem, is always exhilarating.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

I release stress…

Through focusing on a short-term goal that I can clearly accomplish. My stress comes from worry about the significant amount of long-term commitments that I have made. If I put them aside and deal with the short-term responsibilities, I can go on.

—Reb Dovid Greenblatt

By occasionally trying to find time for a good jog — it helps clear the mind and restore the spirit.

—Reb Shloime Werdiger

By going to a stimulating shiur — it’s the best investment. It invigorates, uplifts — and it brings happiness.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

What I’ve learned about people

I have positive feelings and experiences with almost all of the people I interact with. As an askan, you learn more about the history behind “the family in need.” As you learn more about their history, you realize that they are good people who probably did the best that they could given their circumstances. I am also overwhelmed by the generous nature of our People. In my experience, any good cause that is properly articulated can ultimately get funded.

 —Reb Dovid Greenblatt

Most people mean well, and those who clearly don’t — you need to ignore. Don’t let anyone distract you from your mission and goals you’re trying to achieve.

 —Reb Shloime Werdiger

There are no bad people. Everyone essentially means well, just sometimes you have to look deeper to find that spark, that point of goodness. If you look hard, you’ll find it and see people in a positive light.

 —Reb Moishe Duvid Niederman

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 510)