The Hebrew word for giving, natan, is a palindrome, which reveals a deep truth about the reciprocal dynamic of giving: When one gives, they also receive in return.1

In a recent study,2 researchers discovered that those who spent more of their income on others rather than themselves enjoyed significantly greater and longer lasting happiness. In fact, as little as a five-dollar gift was enough to produce measurable increases in one’s happiness. Overall, the self-reported happiness of those who regularly give charity is forty-three percent higher than those who don’t.

Other findings3 include lower depression rates among those who donate more than ten percent of their incomes.4 Giving away money isn’t the only way to enjoy the benefits of generosity: People who are very giving in relationships—being emotionally available and hospitable—are much more likely to be in excellent health (forty-eight percent) than those who are not (thirty-one percent).

Indeed, according to current research, the positive energy that you feel when you do a good deed has a tangible impact on your body. In much the same way that exercise releases endorphins into your brain that make you feel good,5 acts of charity generate what scientists call the “helpers’ high.”

In other words, human beings are hardwired to give.

Hence, according to Professor Elizabeth Dunn and her colleagues,6 who surveyed data from one hundred thirty-six countries: “In contrast to traditional economic thought—which places self-interest as the guiding principle of human motivation—[our] findings suggest that the reward experienced from helping others may be deeply ingrained in human nature, emerging in diverse cultural and economic contexts.”

This is consistent with the Torah’s teaching that humanity was created in the image of G‑d. According to the Kabbalists, G‑d created the world primarily in order to express his loving-kindness. As the Sages teach: “Teva Hatov l’heitiv—it is in the nature of He Who is Good to do good.”

The human propensity for giving is thus a natural reflection of the Divine image in which we were created.

Interestingly, in addition to getting feel-good returns, giving also has its financial advantages.

The Talmud promises wealth to those who give charity, interpreting the verse, Tithe [aseir] you shall tithe [t’aseir]7 as: “Tithe [aseir] in order that you will become wealthy [titasheir].”8 Unlike most mitzvot, where the reward is received in the World to Come, G‑d promises us a more immediate reward in this lifetime for charitable giving, namely that our wealth will be increased the more we use it for the benefit of others.

Accordingly, the Hebrew word for wealth, osher, is etymologically related to the word aseir, to tithe, which teaches that what we receive is reflective of what we give. Wealth comes to those who are active and effective allocators of their resources, who demonstrate an understanding that the purpose and function of wealth itself is to invest it where it is needed most. When we are humble philanthropic agents with a proven record of supporting worthy causes, G‑d entrusts us with even greater wealth to enact even greater investments on His behalf. In the words of R. Yaakov ben Asher:9 “Let not evil counsel arise in your heart that says: ‘How can I reduce my own wealth by giving it away to the poor?’ Know that the wealth is not yours; it is only a deposit given on condition that you use it as the Depositor desires, giving a portion of it to the poor.”

Giving is getting doesn’t just apply to material wealth; whenever we act for the sake of others, we also end up benefiting ourselves. For example: The Talmud teaches,10 “One who prays on behalf of another when in need of the same deliverance, he is answered first.”

Ultimately, notwithstanding the tremendous rewards and benefits that accompany giving, what is most important is not what we get for ourselves but what we give to others. In the words of Winston Churchill: “We may make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”

The Big Idea

When we give of ourselves to others in need, we are not diminished but enriched.

It Happened Once

Sir Moses Montefiore was an outstanding Anglo-Jewish philanthropist of the nineteenth century, and the first Jew to attain high office in the United Kingdom. On his one-hundredth birthday, The London Times devoted editorials to his praise, noting that “he had shown that fervent Judaism and patriotic citizenship are absolutely consistent with one another.”

He was asked, “Sir Moses, what are you worth?” Sir Moses thought for a while and named a figure far too small for an international merchant prince of his magnitude.

“But surely,” pressed his astonished interviewer, “your wealth must be much more than that!”

Sir Moses gently replied, “You didn’t ask me how much I own. You asked me how much I am worth. So I calculated how much I have given to charity this year.

“You see,” he explained, “we are only worth what we are willing to share with others.”