PERSPECTIVE: Embracing Care Without Conditions for a More Generous World
Monday, January 27, 2025
What does it look like to offer unconditional care, and why does it matter? Read on as Lani Santo, CEO of Footsteps, and Mindi Yeger, a Footsteps member and board member, discuss mutual aid in the Hasidic community, how its conditionality impacts Footsteps members as they navigate their journeys, and what happens when Mindi experiences unconditional support for the very first time during Hurricane Helene.
Lani Santo, CEO, Footsteps: The idea of mutual aid became mainstream during the pandemic, and I see it emerging again as organizations and individuals prepare for this presidential term. Living in Brooklyn, I witnessed community-run initiatives pop up in surrounding neighborhoods, bridging gaps of unmet and urgent needs, such as grocery delivery, when it was unsafe during lockdown. As asylum seekers have joined the ranks of our newest New Yorkers, supporting efforts to stock local shelters and community fridges have sustained. This is something that I had not seen a lot of in the secular world — individuals volunteering their time and resources to care for their neighbors at scale, no questions asked. I now see this emerging once again with the devastating LA fires. The resurgence of mutual aid reminds me of growing up in an Orthodox community in Queens, where organized groups of volunteers would deliver Shabbat food to families who were having trouble making ends meet.
These types of systems are par for the course in ultra-Orthodox communities. Something that people who didn’t grow up in these worlds may not know about is the system of gemachs. A gemach is the Yiddish acronym for a shared repository of borrowing and lending in the community. From home goods like mousetraps or tablecloths to personal needs like hair dryers or children’s toys — if you can’t afford something, the community provides. I had heard of gemachs for things like wedding dresses, but when I learned that there’s a gemach for motor oil, it blew my mind.
As the CEO of Footsteps, I all too often witness what happens when Footsteps members are cast out of their communities and cut loose from the safety net for making personal choices that are not in line with ultra-Orthodox norms. Swiftly, many Footsteps members are left to fend for themselves. It becomes clear how transactional these supports are, with the exchange being complete and total devotion to their way of life.
Mindi Yeger, Footsteps member and board member: You’re absolutely right about that. I very much experienced this when I was living in the ultra-Orthodox world.
Support was something you could always rely on, but it felt suffocating to me because it was conditional.
If you’re in line with their worldview, you’re never alone. Someone is sick, and meals show up. If you’re low on money, someone will present an interest-free borrowing opportunity. Chesed — or loving-kindness — in the religious community is legendary but can easily become a burden. That’s something I experienced while I was divorcing my husband. The support I was receiving through the divorce felt like a noose because, at the same time, I was also on the receiving end of a lot of marginalization from the community. I knew it was time to leave when it began to feel like a ball and chain were holding me down. At some point, I felt existing was like the Anaïs Nin quote: “The risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
Lani: That is such a powerful image.
These conditions, as you mentioned Mindi, include a roadmap for life that must be adhered to completely — the way you dress, who you are allowed to love or even befriend, and what you are allowed to do with your life.
Many of our members feel trapped by the dogma of religious life, this lack of agency, or simply being non-believers and decide to leave for a self-determined future. Suddenly alone, they find themselves outside of this incredibly robust but exclusive club, reserved only for those who see the world in a certain way.
When Footsteps members reach our doors, we offer holistic support: trauma-informed mental health counseling, personalized educational and career resources, pro-bono legal referrals, and more. Footsteps’ program model is designed with the aim that no one leaving ultra-Orthodoxy falls through the cracks. Without replicating the transactional dynamics of the Haredi world, we serve as a bridge to ease the transition and learn how to navigate the realities of the secular world.
Without replicating the transactional dynamics of the Haredi world, we serve as a bridge to ease the transition and learn how to navigate the realities of the secular world.
We encourage members to trust themselves and to listen to their inner voice. We offer community spaces for members to support each other, and we also provide on-ramps for members to receive support from the greater secular world.
Mindi: That last piece is no small thing. Those who leave also have to learn how to trust people who don’t share their background — a tall order for those coming from an insular community built on fear, trauma, and interdependence.
The ultra-Orthodox community paints the secular world as a dangerous place, making it difficult to trust those outside of one’s own community. After many years, I now have a sense of who I can rely on. But my experience over the High Holidays gave me a whole new understanding of what it means to be cared for unconditionally.
After living my entire life in tight-knit Jewish communities in New York and New Jersey, I made a huge change and moved by myself to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Asheville, North Carolina. Shortly after settling in, I was faced with Hurricane Helene. The storm left thousands, including me, without power, water, or cell service. My friends, a very kind non-Jewish couple, invited me in to stay with them until my power was restored because they had a generator. This way, I could have hot meals, and we would face the storm together.
Coming from places where purity tests determined your access to community, I had never experienced a friendship like this. I was able to receive the impacts of deep chesed, this time, entirely condition-free. I didn’t have to prove anything in order to be worthy of this care.
I was still with my new friends over Rosh Hashanah, and I wasn’t sure what to do. How vulnerable could I be in this situation? We had finally settled into what was a lovely evening, doing a puzzle by candlelight. These friends were not only not Jewish, but they were completely unfamiliar with the basics of Jewish culture. What would they care about this day and the way my observance had changed since leaving ultra-Orthodoxy? But then I reminded myself: trust is a choice. Everything these friends had given me without expectation proved that I could bring my entire self to their table. Ultimately, I chose authenticity. I explained the different traditions and how their meanings have evolved for me over time. I even sang the classic children’s song about apples and honey, explaining their significance as a blessing for a sweet new year. My friends listened attentively, eager to understand more about what was important to me.
The next morning, my friends had a plateful of apples and honey waiting for me in the kitchen. “Happy New Year, Mindi,” they said to me. I was utterly shocked and emotional, my heart opened in a whole new way. For the first time ever in my life, I felt like all of me was finally home. These newly found friends gave me the most meaningful Rosh Hashanah I may ever have by sharing their unconditional acceptance and kindness.
Lani: Mindi, that story is remarkable and so moving. At Footsteps, we envision a world where no one is afraid to be themselves and where everyone knows that they are inherently deserving of love, care, and support.
At Footsteps, we envision a world where no one is afraid to be themselves and where everyone knows that they are inherently deserving of love, care, and support.
To everyone reading this piece, I invite you to be a partner in this work. Every time you extend a hand to help a new friend or a stranger in your community, you contribute to a culture of mutual support and unconditional care for a more compassionate world.
