“I make $150,000 a year. I work more than 10 hours a day. My wife and I have four children, and we’re not covering our bills.”

This was a desperate confession I heard from a friend recently. If it surprises you, you’re not alone. I would have been surprised as well, until I began hearing identical stories from Jewish families across many communities across America.

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Tales of Jewish economic success run deep in our communal consciousness. We came to America and took jobs in sweatshops, investing in the education of the next generation. Within decades, hundreds of thousands of Jews climbed the economic ladder to success and achieved the American dream. But that success story has created dangerous blind spots. Behind closed doors, our neighbors on all types of career paths are silently struggling.

Data reveals the Jewish dimension of America’s middle-class squeeze. A 2024 study by Tulane University and Rosov Consulting found that 61% of economically vulnerable Jews experience “situational poverty,” meaning families who followed every rule, earned degrees and built careers still find themselves one crisis away from being financially underwater. The 2024 Kosher Money survey delivered an even starker wake-up call: 78% of Orthodox families reported that finances are a major source of stress, with two-thirds carrying debt exceeding $20,000. Even more shocking is how, even among families who earn $250,000-$300,000, only half of respondents reported feeling financially secure.

This isn’t about luxuries. Consider the mathematics of Jewish living. Day school tuition is expensive, with rates varying from $10,000 to $40,000 per year per child. Add synagogue membership, kosher groceries (50% of Orthodox families spend over $400 weekly), summer camps and holiday expenses, and Jewish life easily costs $120,000 per year or above.

Meanwhile, housing prices in Jewish population centers outpace income growth. The result? Families with two impressive salaries living paycheck to paycheck.

Half of Orthodox families have less than $100,000 in non-home assets. Forty percent need tuition assistance. Only 30% have sought financial guidance, often prevented by shame.

The shame factor compounds the damage. Jewish families facing financial stress feel like failures in a success-oriented community. They suffer in silence, hesitate to seek help and quietly withdraw. These aren’t isolated cases but documented patterns.

Standard financial literacy workshops miss the mark, as so-called luxuries like kosher food and private education are not seen as negotiables. Middle-class Orthodox families lack strategies for the unique financial demands of Jewish life while building long-term security.

Half of the Kosher Money survey respondents said they haven’t started retirement planning. This is not out of ignorance but from seemingly impossible choices between present Jewish living and future stability.

This crisis demands innovative responses. I saw the crisis so profoundly and clearly that I left a comfortable job as an SEO editor at The Wall Street Journal to grow Collective Kindness, a nonprofit that provides comprehensive support for Jewish families from all backgrounds, assisting with both immediate needs and long-term sustainability. We dig deep to find the root cause for why a family might be financially struggling and personalize an action plan.

Our tools include financial counseling that takes into account the unique needs of Jewish families, job placement, therapy, budgeting assistance and debt consolidation. We opened two and a half years ago and have 60 active families, with a total of 150 families assisted to become cash flow positive. 

Handouts are not the answer. It’s time to provide families with real, Jewish-themed solutions. Our model is deeply rooted in Jewish values. Maimonides’ Eight Levels of Charity famously teaches that the highest level of tzedakah is helping someone achieve financial independence so they no longer need to rely on others. That’s the foundation of Collective Kindness: restoring dignity through empowerment, not dependency.

Most importantly, we have learned that normalizing conversations about money in Jewish spaces, both for successes and struggles, is vital to our long-term success; things like removing the shame of asking for a discount on tuition and promoting appropriate budgeting within communities.  

Without action, we risk creating a Judaism accessible only to the wealthy: narrower, less vibrant, ultimately unsustainable. But with honesty, creativity and compassion — core Jewish values, no matter how observant you are — we can build communities welcoming all, regardless of income.

The Jewish community is famous for punching far above its weight in the philanthropic arena. And now it’s time to direct that same philanthropy inward, to support schools and institutions that are innovating in assisting the overlooked lower middle-class working family get ahead.

The Talmud teaches that charity should first be directed to one’s own family and neighbors before extending it outward. This guidance is logistical, and it’s logical. When our neighbors are in a crisis, we are called to act. Ignoring their struggle while sending funds elsewhere creates a spiritual and social imbalance.

The solution requires communal courage to acknowledge this crisis’ scope and creativity to address it systematically. We need innovative funding models for Jewish education, promotion of financial literacy and planning for people in their 20s and newlyweds on best practices, and exploration of relocation to more affordable cities where housing and tuition costs are lower. Above all, we must create cultural shifts that make financial struggle shareable rather than shameful.

The question isn’t whether this crisis exists. It’s whether we’ll address it before losing a generation of committed Jewish families to silence, shame and burnout.

Shalom Goodman is co-founder and executive director of Collective Kindness, a nonprofit supporting Jewish families navigating financial challenges. He was previously an editor at The Wall Street Journal.