Steven Kaufman

For as long as I can remember, I was surrounded by philanthropy. My father was deeply involved in B’nai B'rith, and I helped him stuff mailers and work the mechanical address machine in the basement as he described the good works of that organization.

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On my mother’s side, Grandma Gerry and Grandpa Manny were involved in Shriner’s Hospital and the Masons, and active members in the Jewish community in San Francisco.

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On my father’s side, my grandparents Golda and Harold Kaufman were deeply involved in supporting Jewish organizations, both in the Bay Area and in Israel: Federation, Israel Bonds, Weizmann Institute, and so many others. I remember how they were awarded the Prime Minister’s medal, how Grandma Golda used to meet Golda Meir at the airport, their many photos and articles in the San Francisco Jewish Bulletin.

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The tireless volunteer work of my parents and grandparents inspired me to begin my own philanthropic journey. It began with Aleph Zadek Aleph when I was in junior high school, synagogue activities as I grew older, then starting the Young Adults division of Federation in Silicon Valley with Barbara Goldstein. I helped get the Northwest Source off the ground when I moved up to Portland, volunteered in Jewish organizations when I worked in Europe, and continued my service when I returned to make Portland my home.

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However, it was the impending birth of my daughter that made me stop and think about my own Jewish philanthropy beyond volunteerism. What kind of example did I want to set for Abigail? How could I honor my family’s rich history of giving to the Jewish community while creating something that was uniquely mine?

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At the invitation of Rabbi Stampfer z’’l of Neveh Shalom, I was involved in the Judaic Studies program at PSU and established a small scholarship fund in Abigail’s name. Then, I remembered the donor advised funds that Grandma Golda had opened for all of the grandchildren. I found the letter that she’d written to me when the fund was established. She talked about the importance of legacy giving and how each of us must do our part to ensure the long-term health of the Jewish community wherever we lived.

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That was when I had a chance meeting with Julie Diamond. We first met for coffee, then a longer planning meeting. Julie explained to me the various ways I could leave a lasting gift after my passing, and how my life’s work could be used to ensure continuity for the causes that are so dear to me. From those sessions, where Julie and the OJCF staff made me feel like I was their only constituent, I redid my estate plan to permanently endow my DAF after I die and leave a substantial portion of my estate to OJCF.

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When the process was completed, and I filed my letter with the Foundation, I could feel the nachas of my family who had passed on. I felt such gratitude to be able to join all those who came before me who have made lasting gifts to the community. I felt as if I’d joined arms with the generations, both past and future, doing my part to preserve Jewish tradition and create a thriving Jewish community beyond my days.

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Mostly, I felt, for the first time in my life, that I was truly practicing tikkun olam, healing the world. This is a central theme of our family, and the only way I’d known how to do it was to volunteer. Now, in concert with my legacy gift to OJCF, I felt as if I’d come full circle, doing what I could during my lifetime, and helping to ensure a vibrant Jewish life long after I’m gone. In this commitment, I found deep meaning, a personal definition of what being Jewish means to me, and a tether to an organization that has become so dear to me that it’s like family. OJCF made all of this possible, and for that, I am deeply grateful.