Since Oct. 7, 2023, American Jews have been grappling not only with grief and fear but also with questions about the values that have anchored certain segments of the Jewish community for decades. 

In recent months, I’ve read two essays reflecting on whether tikkun olam (repairing the world) still belongs at the center of Jewish life. As the communications manager of OLAM, a network of Jewish and Israeli organizations that work to support largely non-Jewish populations in developing countries, the questions they raised struck a chord with me. I found myself both challenged and compelled by their arguments, and convinced that this is an issue that demands a deeper conversation.

In an opinion piece in The Forward published in May, Aviya Kushner describes Diaspora Jews as “very interested in, and perhaps obsessed with, the concept of tikkun olam” and points to a shift in American Jewish discourse questioning whether tikkun olam has been emphasized above Jewish peoplehood and support for Israel. A few months later, Robert Lichtman notes in eJewishPhilanthropy that while tikkun olam is in fact a component of the pillars that uphold the world, if Jews pursue social justice without anchoring it in Torah study, prayer and acts of chesed (loving-kindness), the entire framework risks becoming unsustainable.

Both Kushner and Lichtman are correct in their diagnosis. Tikkun olam has, at times, been treated as an alternative to peoplehood, Jewish learning and ritual practice. Instead, we should lean into it in a different way, one that fully embraces our commitments to Israel, Jewish tradition and the Jewish People alongside our responsibility to the wider world.

As Lichtman points out, Jewish tradition itself provides a blueprint for this balance. Hillel famously taught, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I?” (Pirkei Avot 1:14) Later rabbis clarify that caring for our own is not a denial of our duty to others: “The poor of your city take precedence over the poor of another city” (Bava Metzia 71a). The responsibility to care for your own takes precedence, but does not absolve you of caring for others.

Repairing the world is not a zero-sum choice between “Us” and “Them.” Jewish responsibility is wide-ranging, and when our communities are strong and secure, we will find the emotional, moral and financial capacity to reach out and help others. Taking care of our own allows us to reach out to humanity at large, to make the mission of international development, humanitarian aid and global service possible. Particular care is not a retreat from universal concern. It is the foundation that sustains it.

But are we truly strong and secure enough to sustain this outward-reaching work in a post-Oct. 7 world? The answer is complex. The attacks have shaken us, leaving grief, fear and uncertainty in their wake. Yet even in this fragile moment, we have seen signs of resilience: Jews around the world are stepping up to support one another in ways both large and small, from federations collecting billions of dollars in charitable donations, to networks of volunteers mobilizing to help those affected by trauma and Jewish institutions offering mental health resources to those in need.

Even in this divisive world, we can see a communal strength that shows tikkun olam is not merely an aspiration: it is, I would argue, essential to Jewish life today. To retreat from engaging with those beyond our own community now, when the world is fractured, antisemitism is high and hope feels increasingly scarce, would be to forfeit one of Judaism’s most powerful expressions. The Jewish imperative to repair the world calls us to confront all the brokenness we see around us. That certainly includes our fellow Jews, but it cannot exclude the stranger.

At OLAM, I see this every day. The work of our partners reflects one of our stated values: multiple circles of responsibility. We must serve vulnerable populations at home, but our obligation to simultaneously serve others has never been clearer, more urgent or more authentically Jewish. More than half of our partners are based in Israel. They draw on Israel’s relatively recent experience as a developing country to share expertise in areas like agriculture, water and disaster relief, reflecting another core OLAM value of utilizing “Israel as a resource” in order to contribute meaningfully to working on contemporary global challenges.

And the ripple effects are profound. These organizations build bridges between Jews and the wider world. After the Oct. 7 attacks, I heard countless stories of their non-Jewish partners reaching out with messages of solidarity, support and friendship. Tikkun olam also offers young Jews meaningful opportunities to serve, connecting them to a Judaism that is active, relevant and values-driven. And perhaps most profoundly, when Jews from Israel and the Diaspora join forces to aid non-Jewish communities beyond our borders, they strengthen their bonds with one another.

Beyond these tangible benefits, supporting vulnerable populations is simply the right thing to do. Jewish tradition teaches us that saving a life — pikuach nefesh — overrides nearly all other commandments. While much of our network’s work may not always involve immediate life-or-death situations, this teaching reminds us of our moral responsibility to respond to suffering or injustice wherever we find it.

Yes, we may feel vulnerable now; but in the arc of Jewish history, we are living in a time of unprecedented safety and resources. We not only have the ability, but the responsibility, to affirm the sacredness of human life everywhere and embody the enduring Jewish commitment to justice, compassion and repair by extending care beyond our own.

So, to answer the question The Forward’s headline posed, now is not the time to retire tikkun olam. Now is the time to root it more deeply in our tradition, live it out with courage and ensure that its practice captures what being Jewish truly means in today’s complex world.

Naomi Lipstein is the communications manager at OLAM.