Bequest giving jumped almost 20% last year, according to the latest Giving USA report, the third big leap in just four years. This is now the fastest-moving force in American philanthropy. The “great wealth transfer” we heard about is not on the horizon; it is already changing the landscape under our feet. But no report can tell us if the values that once held our community together will move forward with this wealth or be left behind.

Some of the wealth now passing to a new generation is being redirected away from Jewish causes, not out of hostility, but because some heirs don’t see Jewish giving as distinctly theirs the way their parents did. At the same time, the mechanics of giving are shifting, too: more of it is moving through donor-advised funds, and more of it is going directly to individuals and informal causes rather than to institutions at all. The question facing Jewish philanthropy right now is not only where this wealth will go, but whether any of our institutions will get to see it.

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There is no easy answer. After five years of wrestling with this question, we have learned something important: The journey itself — the lessons, the doubts, the honest conversations — matters more than any number we can count.

What 200,000 signatures do, and don’t, tell us

Jewish Future Promise now counts 200,000 people who have made a moral commitment to direct at least half of their charitable legacy to Jewish causes and Israel. That adds up to nearly $7 billion in future giving, based on what people told us when they signed. We are proud of that number. It shows this conversation matters. But it would not be honest to say the problem is solved.

Five years in, we see that much of the Jewish philanthropic world still has not made legacy and planned giving conversations a systematic priority. It is not because they disagree with the goal, but because urgent crises have pushed these longer-horizon conversations aside. Many families with the most at stake, where Jewish wealth is most concentrated, have not yet had this conversation at all; and a promise, or even 200,000 promises, is not the same as a real plan. Turning those promises into action is the real challenge, and it is much harder than counting signatures.

Some skeptics ask if a moral promise, not backed by law, can really matter. Its strength is not in rules, but in relationships. As the number of donors shrinks, real growth comes from deeper bonds, not just bigger numbers. This is what the Jewish Future Promise is about. It does not tell anyone what to do. Instead, it creates a moment for families to ask themselves why they give at all. That conversation can leave a mark on a will that lasts longer than any form or policy.

We have seen this happen up close. Bernie and Joan White changed the way their family gives. Their three adult children now sit with them on the committee that guides their endowment; this is happening while the parents are still here to lead the conversation. This is not a theory about future engagement. It is real succession, happening right now. It is a model others in our field should look to, whether or not we are involved.

The Whites’ story also points to something bigger than one family’s choice. Foundations exist because someone decided their values should outlast them, yet most boards never take the simple step of writing that intention into their own governing documents, leaving it dependent on whoever happens to be in the room a generation from now. A single sentence in a foundation’s bylaws does more to guarantee an outcome than any amount of hoping the next generation shares the same instinct. The same is true of donor-advised funds, so much of this new giving is moving through them: a DAF is only as Jewish as the instructions attached to it. It isn’t enough to name a successor advisor; the succession instructions can specify what share of the remaining balance goes to Jewish causes or Israel. That single addition costs nothing and takes minutes, yet it’s a step most people never get around to. 

This is not a plea for every federation, camp, school or foundation to adopt a single program. It is a call to treat legacy as the backbone of our communal life, not a side project for a single department. Every organization that has ever received a gift, hosted an event, welcomed a member or enrolled a participant already holds a moment when the conversation could turn to what comes next. Most of those moments slip by unnoticed. That is not a failure of fundraising. It is a missed chance to ask what a family believes is worth carrying into the future.

It’s worth asking plainly: If you sit on a foundation board, does its governing language reflect that commitment, or only its founder’s memory of intending it? If you hold a donor-advised fund, has anyone named where the remainder goes? These aren’t hard questions. They cost nothing but the time it takes to answer them, and the families who do are, in effect, insuring their own legacy against the slow, quiet way values get lost when nobody writes them down.

Giving USA’s numbers make one thing clear: the transfer is happening now. What we do not know is which values will make it through. That answer is still being written, one household at a time, while too many in our field look away. Two hundred thousand families have chosen to act. The real question is how many more will have the chance to choose before the wealth moves on its own, and the choice is made for them.

Mike Leven is a philanthropist, business leader and the founder of the Jewish Future Promise. He currently serves on the boards of the Marcus Foundation, Jewish National Fund and AEPi Fraternity Foundation, and is the board chair of the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism & Policy (ISGAP) and an honorary board member of the Birthright Israel Foundation.

Hadara Ishak is the president and COO of the Jewish Future Promise. Before coming to the Jewish Future Promise, she had a career in both the for-profit and nonprofit worlds, building a successful women’s clothing manufacturing company and serving as vice president of distribution and a co-producer at Imagination Productions, an independent documentary film company focused on the Jewish world.