Last week, I found myself at a Mel Robbins show with a good friend – one of those “sure, why not?” nights that turns into something unexpectedly meaningful. I knew just enough about her to say yes: a podcast here, a book cover there. But what we walked into wasn’t just a talk. It was part comedy, part group therapy, part masterclass in being human.
Also: there were no playbills. Just notebooks and pens that were handed out at the doors.
My friend and I exchanged a look. Oh no. We’re going to have homework, aren’t we?
We were right.
Throughout the night, Mel (and her daughter Sawyer, who joined her onstage and clearly inherited the family gift for connection) had us writing and reflecting. At one point, she asked us to answer a simple-but-not-simple question: What would you do with your life if money were no object?
We wrote. Then we tore out the page. Folded it. Passed it around the room like some kind of emotional hot potato. Eventually, we each ended up holding someone else’s dream.
The note I opened was written in careful, beautiful script. It said:
“I would be a philanthropist.”
And my heart sank a little.
Not because it wasn’t a lovely answer – it was. But because it carried a quiet assumption I’ve spent more than 25 years bumping up against in my work: that “philanthropist” is something you become later. When you have more. When you’ve made it. When the timing is right.
But here’s the thing I wish I could have said to that woman, right there in the theater:
You don’t have to wait.
Philanthropy isn’t a title reserved for the ultra-wealthy or the someday version of yourself. It’s a practice. And it’s already within reach.
There are three gifts each of us can give: time, talent, and treasure. Not all at once. Not in equal measure. In whatever way makes sense for your life right now.
That’s it. That’s the whole thing.
You show up. You give what you can. You care enough to act.
That’s a philanthropist.
So let me turn the question outward, because this is where it gets real. Think about the organizations that matter to you—your synagogue, a school, a nonprofit you love, maybe even us here at Jewfolk. The places that make your world feel more connected, more meaningful, more human.
What would it look like to show up for them?
Maybe it’s volunteering an hour here and there. Maybe it’s sharing a skill you don’t even think of as “special” (trust me, it is). Maybe it’s a donation, large or small, that says: this matters, and I’m part of it.
Right now, many organizations are feeling it—a real shortage of volunteers, of hands and hearts. And the truth is, they don’t just need “philanthropists.”
They need you.
Being a philanthropist, in the truest sense, is wildly accessible. It’s also deeply Jewish. A Mitzvah. Showing up for one another, sustaining community, doing what we can with what we have. In good times, in hard times, and in all the in-between moments.
And yes – there’s something in it for you, too. Giving back doesn’t just strengthen community; it lifts something in us. It pushes back against that low hum of blah and replaces it with purpose, connection, even a little joy.
So to the woman whose note I held for just a moment: I’m still thinking about you.
And to everyone reading this: join her. Join me.
Be a philanthropist.
Don’t wait.
Thank you, Juliana, for such a beautifully written article!
Well said. Kol ha kavod!
Yasher Koach, Juliana!!! So very true and so very important to share. Everyone who makes giving a part of their life (about 50% of the population) is a philanthropist. Every one of us doing our part is what improves the world – not waiting for an angel donor to do it all.