Rachel Meytin (rmeytin@bbyo.org) is the Director of Panim and Jewish Enrichment at BBYO. She is based in Washington, DC. She was a Jim Joseph Foundation Fellow at The Lookstein Center.

Every four years we spend much of the fall in the United States consumed with the Presidential election, and here in Washington, DC, it’s hard to think about much else. Putting the social issues aside, the candidates focused heavily on the economy. Times are tough and they both want to ensure the voters a better future – each of them claiming that their tax plan will save tax payers the most money. The less money you give to the government, the more you can save and accumulate. And since more money equals success, that’s the goal, right?

Not according to Jewish tradition. Being financially secure – even wealthy – is, of course, not a bad thing, and can even be a very good thing, depending on how we use our prosperity. But, even accepting the security and comfort that wealth can bring, and even the good it can potentially do for a family or the community, accumulating wealth isn’t the ultimate goal of a Jewish life. Given that part of modern American Jewish culture is a drive to be successful, we need to identify what it means, in Judaism, to be successful.

The first text that often comes up in a conversation of richness or even broadly on defining the goals of a Jewish life comes from Pirkei Avot. Chapter 4 Mishnah 1 teaches that “the one who is rich is one who is happy with his lot.” While that may sound achievable, it doesn’t do much for our modern sensibilities. Aren’t we supposed to reach forward? Aren’t we always striving – we want to live a better life than our parents and set our children up for a better life than our own.

In order to understand the ideal life presented in Pirkei Avot 4:1, we need to reframe “success” away from being the equivalent of “financial success.” Micah (6:8) provides a simple recipe for success: “It has been told to man what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: only to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

In contrast to Pirkei Avot’s use of the word ashir – usually understood as material wealth – Micah does not mention financial wealth at all. Micah neither focuses our goal on financial wealth nor does he expect that we must have wealth as a precursor to success. As Maimonides further explained, “Even a poor person who lives entirely on tzedakah must also give tzedakah to another.” (Mishneh Torah, Laws of Tzedakah, 7: 5) Maimonides underscores the idea that everyone can follow Micah’s path to success, regardless of their financial status.

This guidance from the Book of Micah and from the Mishnah Torah provides much of the context for the work and teaching that Panim does: actively seek justice in the world, be kind and merciful to those around you, and have a humble and personal relationship with God / Judaism. Given this understanding of success in life, we then have to delve deeper to understand what is being required of us.

At Panim, our work leads with the “do justly” section of Micah’s teaching. We overtly frame our justice work as being part and parcel of being kind and merciful to each other and having a positive connection to Judaism, but we lead with the justice or tikkun olam – world repair – work that is to be done in the world.

Tikkun olam is a very common phrase in Jewish life, thrown around to mean anything from being nice to each other to taking care of animals to feeding the hungry. Many modern educators won’t even use this word anymore (we often use “Justice work” as an equivalent) because it has become so common. How can we, particularly those of us who work as educators, turn Tikkun olam from an overused catch phrase into something actionable?

I humbly share a definition of tikkun olam that we find useful at Panim. We define tikkun olam, or justice work in general, as “a process through which we change the world for the better.”

“A process through which we change the world for the better.”Is that any more informative than “do justly” or repair the world? With our participants, we pull the definition apart:

• “A process.” This teaches us two things:
  First, that it is not immediate. Nothing will be changed today unless today is only the first day of many. “It is not incumbent upon you to complete the work, but neither are you at liberty to desist from it” (Avot 2:21). We struggle greatly against the modern need for immediate feedback and quick resolutions. Reminding our teens that this work is a process is essential to provide a buffer against feeling that their work is inconsequential.
  Second, that there are many different ways to do tikkun olam but they all have in common an active participant and a commitment to ongoing engagement. We do direct service, feeding the people who have no dinner tonight. We do philanthropy, raising money for the pantries and soup kitchens that will feed people throughout the year. We do advocacy to affect the root of the problem, attempting to change our community’s structure to prevent people from going hungry in the first place. Each of these are valuable ways to engage, but none will be effective without a commitment.
• “The world.” What is your world?
  Teens, like all of us, belong to dozens of communities – the Jewish community, their hometown, their high school, the global community. Each of us, before we can hope to make a difference, must pick how broadly to focus. There isn’t a right answer – is it better to feed one child three full meals every day, better to give a class of children breakfast once a week, or better to send a day’s food to a community in Africa? All are part of our world and all are in need of our attention.
  We often find that teens come in with a presupposed but unvocalized definition of their world. When we put the question up for definition, a world (pun intended!) of possibilities opens for them. Do they follow that the poor of your city take precedence over the poor of a different city (Bava Metzia 71a)? Do they preference supporting other Jews (Sanhedrin 27b; Shavuot 39a) or do they look for the most vulnerable, the modern widow and orphan (Deuteronomy 24:1, Isaiah 1:17, among others)?
• “Better.” What is the vision you want to see?
  Finally, we push our teens to really define, for themselves, what better looks like to them. We don’t assume, and we don’t allow them to assume, any particular political orientation or stance. We don’t assume that just because they’re from X city or because their parents are affiliated with Y political party that’s how they believe. On our seminars we get teens who are vehemently pro-choice and those who proudly defend pro-life beliefs. Pro-DREAM Act, pro- tightening the US Borders. Pro LGBT-rights, pro-DOMA. As long as they can root those stances in Jewish values, we support them. We teach them to be respectful of others and opposing beliefs but not to assume them.
  Beyond the political, we believe that teens, and all of us, need to have a vision of where the world could, and should, be. Otherwise how will you know if you’re on the right path?

That handles the first segment of the quote from Micah: “It has been told [to man] what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: only to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” (Micah 6:8) What about to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God?

One could argue that, the way we approach justice encompasses the second two components into the first. When we see it as our personal responsibility to repair the hurts done to the world and its inhabitants, we are being merciful. We are not ignoring the injustices, we are tackling them head-on. The word translated here as mercy, hesed, is also translated as kindness. Hesed, some taught, is even greater that tzedakah (giving of money in particular), largely because of the focus on the interpersonal component to hesed, requiring the personal engagement (Babylonian Talmud, Sukkah 49b). Through the questions asked above, we bring each individual participant into the conversation. We do not allow for a one size fits all approach – each teen must engage personally to create his or her own experience.

Clearly the third clause in the passage is not literal. The Babylonian Talmud (Sotah, 14a) gives a potential understanding for the idea of walking with God. This passage explores the different ways that we, as humans, imitate God: clothing the naked, visiting the sick, and burying the dead. The Talmud argues that since God did each of these actions, when we follow in those footsteps, we are imitating God and elevating our own holiness. It can be no coincidence that the three acts that the Talmud outlines are all works of justice or hesed. When all of this work: the conversations and the going out into the world, all of it is framed consistently and overtly Judicially, it is presented as a core expression of our Judaism. We present this as a core way to “walk humbly with your God.”

Working toward success is important. Knowing how we define success in life is even more important. Even though this election cycle is completed, I propose a challenge to each of us and then to all our elected officials. First, we need to define success for ourselves. What does better look like – and do we get there? Is success simply financial? Is that enough for us? And second, I challenge each of us to hold each of our elected officials to this high standard, to this Jewish way of understanding success. Vote with your ethics and not your pocketbook. Hold your government accountable to your understanding what it means to live a successful life.

And through this we can create a world where we all have a role in “the process through which we change the world for the better.”