I want to tell you a story about a young woman named Rachel, who I mentor through the foster care system. Her life has been marked by instability—abandoned by her mother, adopted then placed back into the system by her adoptive parents, struggling with learning disabilities and emotional outbursts. Her whole life, she has been told, implicitly and explicitly, that she is a burden. 

But then, every once in a while, there is chesed. This Hebrew word is often translated as “lovingkindness.” But chesed is more than just being nice. It means taking action—a courageous, imaginative commitment to showing up for others, especially in moments of vulnerability.

For Rachel, chesed may come from a staff member at her group home who drives her to Walmart so she can buy something to brighten her drab room. Or a social worker who stays in touch even after being assigned to another case. Or a visit with my dog, Boaz, who gives her comfort. These are small acts, none of them life-changing on their own. But together they tell her: You are seen. You matter.

Traditional Jewish texts list chesed as one of the fundamental ways we repair the world. Chesed is not limited to grand gestures; it is found in the small, everyday ways we make each other’s lives better, acts such as visiting the sick, honoring parents, comforting mourners and making peace between people. It is what makes us human and what holds us together in a world that often feels like it is coming apart.

The news these days is chaos. Every headline pulls us in a different direction—grief, anger, confusion, exhaustion. It’s easy to feel unmoored, like we’re wandering in the wilderness, with an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

But Judaism reminds us that even in the worst times, we can still help others. There is a very famous line from Pirkei Avot 2:16 that is translated: “You do not have to complete the work, but neither are you ben chorin, free, to neglect it.”

Just last month, we sat at our seder tables and declared ourselves “ben chorin.” And, I realized, it is not true! If we take Pirkei Avot seriously, then we are not free to abdicate responsibility. Ba’al habayit dochek, the previous verse teaches, the master of the house is under tremendous pressure. And therefore, so are we.

In times of crisis, we are not free to retreat; we step forward, bringing whatever we have to offer: a meal, a donation, a hard conversation, a playdate with a pet. None of us can do everything, but all of us can do something. Judaism does not accept excuses. And each act contributes to healing the broken world.

One December, Rachel found a broken Christmas tree on the street, brought it to her group home and decorated it for everyone to enjoy. Her simple act of care reminds us of something essential, something Judaism has always known and now scientific research has proven as well: chesed breeds chesed. Kindness is contagious, with acts of generosity inspiring others to behave similarly.

It might feel counterintuitive to focus on just one person when the entire world seems to be in turmoil. But caring for a single individual reminds us that behind every statistic, headline or policy debate are human beings with real needs and struggles. When we help one person, we reaffirm our capacity for empathy and action, and we provide ourselves with the strength and clarity to continue addressing the broader challenges we face.

And our chesed does not need to end with an act between us and another. Instead, it can be a foundational building block for systemic change. When we regularly practice chesed, we sensitize ourselves to injustice and suffering, creating a ripple effect that can lead us to advocate for fairness and equity on a broader scale.

In other words, chesed need not only breed chesed; it can also breed tzedek, or justice. Each compassionate act can open our eyes more clearly to societal inequalities and motivate us toward actions that address root causes, not just symptoms.

There will always be children who need mentors as well as sick friends, hungry neighbors and mourners who need comfort. It is easy to feel paralyzed by the scale of the suffering. But we do not have to solve everything. We begin where we are. We build a more compassionate world by recognizing need and responding with action, no matter how small.

We offer a piece of ourselves, trusting that together, we are building something holy. To practice chesed is to resist the cynicism that tells us nothing we do matters. It is to insist that in a world of cruelty, we choose kindness. It is to build something sacred in the midst of the wilderness.

Brick by brick. Step by step. We bring what we can and together, we build. 

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Rabbi Shira Stutman is co-host of the PRX podcast Chutzpod! and author of the recently published The Jewish Way to a Good Life.