On Tuesday, January 20, 2026, I had the joy and honor of sharing Judaism’s perspectives on Faith & Wealth during a Zoom Webinar hosted by the Interfaith Conference of Greater Milwaukee. Here is what I shared (and, If you would prefer to listen to what I shared, please follow this link to the 7 minute and 45 second audio file):
“Thank you, Ahmed. Thank you also to everyone for the opportunity and the honor to be here and to share a little bit about the Jewish teachings and perspectives about wealth. My name is Moishe Steigmann, The Mindful Rabbi, and once again, it’s really an honor to be here.
In Judaism, wealth is not simply an economic category. It’s not simply about how much money I have, how much money I can get. Wealth is also a spiritual category. Judaism does not ask whether wealth is good or bad. Rather, Judaism asks, “What does wealth do to us? And in turn, what does wealth ask us to do for others?” So, wealth really is not neutral. It’s not even self-justifying. Rather, wealth is a test of values and a test of awareness.
Truthfully, wealth itself is not considered a problem within Judaism. The Torah, in fact, recognizes material prosperity as a blessing. Every single day, we, as Jews, recite the amidah, which is the central prayer and Judaism, and one of those prayers asks for prosperity. We bless each other, we bless ourselves with abundance and with wealth.
At the same time, Judaism does warn about what abundance can do to us as individuals and, in turn, the harmful effects that can have for society. First of all, we can forget vulnerability. We can get comfortable with the wealth that we have, the lives that we live, and forget those in our society who are in need of help. We can forget interdependence, that wealth is not achieved alone. We live in an interdependent world, and anything that I have gained is really also on the footsteps of so, so, so many others, both visible and often unseen. And we can forget God, community, and responsibility. Throughout the Torah, we are taught of our responsibility to give to others, to leave what we have for others.
Instead, we grow attached to our wealth. Like in Islam, as Ahmed is suggesting, ownership in Judaism is conditional. Things do not belong to us and to us alone. Rather, we are taught that everything in the earth is the Lord’s. We are not absolute owners of anything. Rather, we are stewards. And yes, possession might be real in a tangible sense, and it is never ultimate. Judaism insists that even what I earn is not mine alone because no one earns in isolation. For instance, every single time after we eat food, in our grace after meals, we bless God, and we bless the land. I don’t have food just because I have money. I have food because of God and because of the land. We recognize that labor depends on society; markets depend on trust; success depends on randomness as much as effort.
Wealth is something that we hold. It’s not something that we are. It’s not, “I am wealthy.” Rather, it’s, “I have wealth.” It’s not, “what did I do to deserve my wealth?” It’s, “what do I do with the wealth with which I am blessed?”
The most common name to Jewish giving is tzedakah, and many of you may have heard that before. We often simplify and often mistranslate tzedakah as charity. Tzedakah is not the impulse to want to do something kind for someone else and to give them money. Rather, tzedakah comes from the Hebrew root word of tzedek, which is justice. Tzedakah is a societal, collective, and individual obligation.
Maimonides–Rambam–a 12th century Jewish theologian and scholar, talks beautifully about the hierarchy of tzedakah, and that tzedaha, the point is really to center dignity. Because one of the highest levels of tzedakah is giving and receiving anonymously, so no one is embarrassed in front of their fellow. And the highest level of tzedakah is helping someone find a job. Maimonides also reinforces the Jewish notion of tithing, giving 10 percent of one’s income. And fascinatingly. he also says that a Jew should not give more than 20 percent of their income. His justification is, lest they become impoverished themselves. Which, 800 years ago, makes sense. Maybe I give so much that I, in turn, become one who is needy. I can’t imagine, however, that maimonides could imagine, can understand the incomprehensible individual wealth that exists today. And so I think Judaism rather is focused on the core principles of sustainability and responsibility.
The question that Judaism forces us to ask today is whether ethical responsibility has scaled along with capacity. Judaism invites us to hold wealth with awareness rather than with anxiety, with gratitude rather than guilt, and with responsibility rather than entitlement.
Indeed, I suspect–and I am so excited to hear whether my suspicion is accurate or misses the mark–I suspect that every faith represented here asks some version of the same question: “How do we live ethically and remain fully human in the presence of abundance?” And I wonder out of curiosity and mindful reflection, “What would change if we measured success not by what we accumulate rather by how awake we remain in the presence of abundance?”
And so it is my hope and blessing for each one of us that we are indeed prosperous. And that, in turn, we use our prosperity to embody the ideals, values, teachings, and traditions of each of our faith practices to our individual and collective responsibility to truly make the world a better and more just place.
Thank you.”
