In the current “Money” issue of Sapir, Cindy Greenberg of Repair the World makes an impassioned argument for service as a central form of tzedakah. She tells us that what we do for others has begun to take a back seat to what we giveto others, but that doing matters: Service builds community, connection and identity, she says.

Greenberg teaches us that our large communal institutions grew up at a time when we stopped living in small, familial communities. We came to this country and dispersed, no longer in our historic shtetl neighborhoods. We needed to centralize rescue and resettlement. The “services” we had provided to each other — bringing a meal, caring for children, loans to community members faced with hardships — began to take a back seat to professional interventions. A professional Jewish workforce arose, and we needed to fund them. 

We still need to fund them. The work of our Jewish professionals, whether they are clergy, social workers, friendly visitors or coaches are essential parts of the Jewish landscape. They provide services we used to simply do for each other. We pay them for their service. Which frees us to think that our donations are enough. 

For many of us, donating is simply easier. I can make a donation in honor of a new baby, rather than taking food to the family. I can give rather than make a shiva call. Giving gives me the sense I have done something, that my actions are meaningful. But does giving build community or connection? Not so much. We might even argue that centralized giving diminishes community, by elevating the work of agencies over individuals. If I rely on Jewish Family Service for food, company, counseling or care, does that free my neighbors to do nothing or just to donate to JFS? Can I give to Israeli causes and never visit Israel?

What happens when we centralize care may actually diminish care. If I expect the rabbi to visit the sick members of the congregation, does that exempt the rest of us from these visits? Does the meal train, which is obviously a blessing, allow me to defer my concern until it’s my date? Do all these efficiencies make us less connected?

We live in a world where human connection is at a premium. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, we continue to see diminished social skills and increases in both isolation and loneliness, which are both high-risk factors for physical health. Could service be a part of the solution?

After multiple deaths in my family, I noticed who called. Who did the work of outreach. And who did not. The call matters. The donation in their memory matters and is appreciated, but it’s not personal. It feels more like checking the box than connecting with the losses. Are we outsourcing the mitzvah of comforting the bereaved to the synagogue or agency receiving the donation?

I believe that service gives meaning to our lives. That helping other people, however we do it, matters. And I believe that valuing service enhances its meaning. We both need to do the actions of service and to value that we do those actions. If I read to children or knit hats for homeless people or participate in a committee or listen to a friend, I need to value these as ways I connect and give back. No monetary value, simply human connection.

People in helping professions tell me that they are overwhelmed by need right now. Too much anguish — about Israel, antisemitism, ICE and other political disruptions; families dealing with conflict, hunger and loss. Rabbis tell me that they’re unsure what to do. They can’t help, they say. They know how important they are right now, but many feel untrained to deal with the bombardment of social and personal issues they hear about. We expect them to be there for us, and sometimes that allows us to avoid being there for each other. If we rely on Jewish professionals to create community for us, we abrogate our responsibility to one another. In fact, we are taught “All Israel is responsible for one another”— kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh. We need to live this idea. 

So let’s decentralize service. Don’t expect professionals, whether clergy, educators or federation folks, to build community. Let’s all take part of the load. Bring a meal. Make a phone call or at least send a text. Make time to listen, without trying to fix. Listening is the highest form of connection and it is holy work. The donation matters — we must support our community organizations whose work remains vital — but it’s not community, connection or belonging. We can and must do both.

Betsy Stone is a retired psychologist who consults with Jewish institutions, clergy and parents as they navigate the complexity of the present.