 Taking Notice and Taking Action Printed with permission from "The Chesed Boomerang" by Jack Doueck www.judaicapress.com One cold February night in 1995, the Sephardic Bikur Holim chinese auction committee was in the office making calls to solicit raffles and coupon packages for the auction. If you have ever tried to call someone at 9 PM, after a full day of work, and persuade them to donate $500 or $1000 to charity, you know how difficult this is. Worse, when you get rejected, you begin to lose your drive. After three or four calls without raising money, your morale starts to fade. I was in the office that night making calls. The volunteers around me were losing their enthusiasm. This was the tenth night in the last eleven upon which we left our families and worked in the Bikur Holim office, attempting to raise money. I was desperately trying to "psyche people up". After someone would succeed at a call, we would cheer and pat him on the back — encouraging him to make another call. I remember what motivated me: I just pictured in my mind the tiny apartment of a Bikur Holim client whom I had recently visited. I pictured the time the client opened an empty refrigerator and was too ashamed to admit that he had nothing to offer me except a warm can of Coke. This is what kept me going. I would picture the horrendous circumstances our poor lived under and I would push myself to ask for financial support. After all, it’s relatively easier to sell a product that you really believe in and understand. Not everyone had that kind of motivation. I’ll never forget what happened next. Joseph Beyda, the man to whom I dedicated this book, walks in and greets everyone with a warm smile and words of encouragement. He talks with us and makes us feel proud to be on his team. And then he asks for a list, sits at a table and proceeds to make calls. "Joe," I told him, "It’s 10:15 PM, it is kind of late to call people. We are really just wrapping up and calling it ‘quits’ for tonight. We’ll be here again tomorrow night and every night until the auction." Joe just smiled and said, "Jackie, watch this!" He then proceeded to call one prominent community leader after another. He asked us for the most challenging calls to make. "Who refused you guys tonight?" He asked. "I’ll call him. Who didn’t give you what you got last year? Who put you off and told you to call back next week?" Then he would call and wake them up. "Don’t make believe you’re sleeping. Wake up. I need $5,000. We are selling these raffles... It is Bikur Holim; do I have to say anything more? These kids are in the office working for the community, and you’re in your cozy bed. Listen! I’m not hanging up until you give me $1000 more than you did last year...." Joe went on and on until after 11 PM. Most of us just watched in awe. Some of us cheered after each call. Joe seemed to just "conquer" each call, in away we all dreamed we would be able to do. When he was through (not because he was tired, but because he thought it really wasn’t nice to call people too late), we added up what he had just accomplished: $60,000. He had just raised $60,000 for Sephardic Bikur Holim in that one hour. As I look back on that night I have many thoughts. Perhaps most of all I realize that he wasn’t there that night just to raise money for Bikur Holim. He was there primarily for us, the volunteers. He knew we were having a very difficult time raising money. He knew that we were almost burnt out. He took notice and took decisive action. He wanted to inspire us. But how? Was it with a depressing story about a sick or poor client? No. Not this time. He knew that the best way to encourage us was with action. So he rolled up his sleeves, sat at the phone and asked for names to call– not just any names, but the most intimidating, the most difficult. As a true leader, he exemplified what we had to do. Fearlessly, he conquered each potential donor with enthusiasm, humor, passion and love. It seemed as if he was in love with us, with SBH, with the people he called, and with the entire community. When he finally finished his magnificent work that night I remember that I just came over to him and gave him a big hug. I was overjoyed, inspired, encouraged. He not only helped the poor, he not only gave people the merit and opportunity to give, he helped each one of us in the room that night. As I make cold calls for many charities, to this day I think back on that cold night in February, and how Joseph fearlessly and passionately raised $60,000 in about an hour. Joseph Beyda passed away on April 19, 1997, at the young age of 54. I know that if he were here with me right now, there would be tears in his eyes and he would admit that he did it for us. He would admit that he knew we needed him to show us "how it’s done". He would tell me how important it is to notice people and to take action to help people when you notice that they are in trouble. He would encourage me to follow in his footsteps and do the same. Thanks Joe. Our community thanks you. The poor and sick thank you and we, the volunteers, thank you forever.
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