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I believe I have never written about this before, among other reasons, to protect the dignity of the people involved. That is why I am going to be deliberately imprecise with the details. More than twenty years ago, a man appeared in one of the communities I served in South America, whom no one knew, presenting himself as the victim of multiple tragedies: his house, he said, had burned down; he showed photos of children with bandaged hands and, to top it off, one of his seven children, he claimed, was sick with cancer. He urgently needed money.
Just in those days, our community was going through an enormous tragedy: a young man, father of several children, had just died of cancer. The man began attending the Minyan that we were accompanying during the week of mourning for the deceased. Two days later, the teenage son of the deceased—a young man of about fifteen years old, completely devastated, with eyes red from crying and lack of sleep—came to see me in my office, crying inconsolably. And he told me that I had to help that man. I asked him: Do you know him? What do you have to do with him? Then he told me. That morning, after the Tefillah, the man had approached him and told him that the previous night he had dreamed about his deceased father. And that his father, in the dream, asked that his son “help him raise funds for his family.” The man also clarified that he did not want to speak with anyone else: it had to be him who handled getting those funds.
There he was, in front of me, an absolutely vulnerable teenager who had just buried his father and would give anything to hear him one more time, begging me to help a man who assured him he had dreamed about his father. It is not possible to think critically at that age and in those circumstances. And the man knew it perfectly. That is why he chose that boy and not another. It caused me great pain to see the abuse that was taking place. But I could not explain it to a young man in the midst of mourning: he would not believe me and, on top of that, he would suffer more. So I came up with a plan.
I approached the man and told him I would help him “with everything he needed” and that he should come to my office. He came, with the young man present. I said to him: “Tell me what you need, and I will help you.” He said: “I need money to pay for some very expensive medications.” I asked him what the medications were for. “My son is sick, and the remedy is not covered by the medical insurance of my country. And it is very expensive.” I said: “Very well. Give me the name of the medication. We have doctors who specialize in cancer in our community, and I will get it for you free of charge, all the doses you need.” I was not lying to him. The man then stopped talking about the medications and told me: “I need money for food. We have nothing to eat.” I said: “No problem at all. I will organize some families to bring food to your house right now. Will you give me your address?” I was not lying to him. At that point he set aside the subject of food. “Food is not the main problem. I have to pay the rent on my house. I am several months behind, and they want to throw me out.” I said: “Perfect. Give me the landlord’s phone number. I will call him right now and arrange with him so that the rent is paid for you.” I was not lying to him.
At that moment his face changed. It was no longer the face of someone who inspired pity. Now he had an angry expression. He asked me aggressively: “Are you going to give me money as you promised, or not?” I answered him: “I assured you that I was going to give you everything you needed. Medications, food, rent: everything except cash.” The man rejected all the help I offered him. He only wanted cash. And when he saw that he was not going to get it, he got up and left. We never saw him again.
This case, which I lived personally, was a shameful scene of abuse: a man disguised as a religious person (or as a Jew!), who pretended to receive visions in dreams, exploiting a young man at his moment of maximum vulnerability, who had just lost his father. For me it was a very important lesson, and since then I teach it: people who truly need help accept it—they do not demand cash! When there are doubts about a request for Tzedakah, the most responsible way to help is to offer direct assistance—food, rent, medications, etc.—instead of handing over cash. That way, one can truly help without handing over control of the situation to someone whose story one has not yet verified.
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