The Red Cross’s Jewish Problem
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Behind every successful person stands a parent, a teacher, a boss who believed first. Here’s why thanking them is so hard, and why it matters so much.
The conference room broke into applause as the successful entrepreneur was introduced as “a self-made man.” But something didn’t feel right to me.
This man certainly worked hard and built remarkable things. But self-made? With dedication and determination, his parents gave him everything he needed. They sent him to the best private schools and a world-class high school. They supported him financially and emotionally at every step.
No one is self-made. The teacher who stayed late until the concept finally clicked. The person who gave you your first real job before you’d proven anything. A parent who believed in you when you didn’t believe in yourself.
You are parent-made, teacher-made, mentor-made, friend-made. Yes, you worked hard and you deserve credit for it, but you didn’t do it alone.
You are parent-made, teacher-made, mentor-made, friend-made. Yes, you worked hard and you deserve credit for it, but you didn’t do it alone.
Do the people who actually helped you get to where you are receive the credit they deserve?
Why is it so hard to thank the people who made you? Because thanking someone means admitting you needed them. To your ego, that feels like weakness. So you tell yourself a more comfortable story: sure, people helped along the way, but you’re the one who made it happen. In that story, you’re the hero and everyone else is a supporting character.
The Torah shows where that story leads. “A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (Exodus 1:8). Joseph had saved Egypt from starvation. Rashi explains that the king knew exactly who Joseph was; he simply acted as if he didn’t. The Midrash (Shemot Rabbah 1) notes where it ended: the same Pharaoh later declared, “I do not know God” (Exodus 5:2). One who denies the good done by another person will ultimately deny the good done by God. The slavery of an entire nation began with one refusal to acknowledge a debt.
Gratitude isn’t just a Jewish value; it’s the meaning of being a Jew. Yehudi, Jew, comes from Judah, whose mother Leah named him with the words, “This time I will thank God” (Genesis 29:35). The root, hoda’ah, means both “thanks” and “admission.” That double meaning holds the secret. Real gratitude is an admission. It’s the sentence the self-made myth will never let you say: I couldn’t have done this without you.
That’s why the first words you say each morning are Modeh Ani, “I thank You.” Before you accomplish anything, you admit that you’ve already been given everything.
The first marriage in history hit its first crisis with an act of ingratitude. When God asked Adam what he had done, he answered, “The woman You gave me, she gave me from the tree” (Genesis 3:12). Rashi says this was ingratitude: the gift God had given him had become someone to blame.
Every relationship faces that same choice. You can see the people in your life as gifts, or as problems to manage. When you choose gratitude, the other person feels seen, not used, and they want to give again. You start noticing the good they do, and want to give back. Gratitude acknowledge goodness and multiplies it.
It also creates safety. Researchers Nathaniel Lambert and Frank Fincham found that people who expressed gratitude to their partners felt more comfortable raising concerns about the relationship. Gratitude doesn’t paper over problems. It builds enough trust that you can actually talk about them.
Choose one person who shaped who you are, someone you’ve never fully thanked. Think about what they gave you, when they showed up, and what your life would look like without them. Then write them a letter. Be specific. Don’t write “thanks for everything.” Tell them exactly what they did and how it changed you. Most important, say the hardest sentence: I couldn’t have done this without you.
Then muster the courage to deliver it. If you can, read it to them in person. (It’s worthwhile writing the letter even if you don’t think you’ll deliver it.)
When psychologist Martin Seligman tested this exercise, participants showed a bigger jump in happiness than with any other exercise he studied, and the effect lasted a month.
You are not self-made. You are the product of countless acts of love, sacrifice, and belief from people who saw something in you. The moment you admit that is the moment you become who you were meant to be: someone who gives thanks. A Yehudi, a Jew, in the truest sense of the word.
ME, flips to WE
Each of us might consider this play on words, for the good and the bad.
People can constantly help or hurt us, and we can do the same for them.
(The hurts might be seen as giving us strength and the wisdom to warn others)Thanks
Let me be the first to express gratitude for this well-written article!
The danger of living in a "me" generation should be obvious to all: if we have a sense of entitlement rather than an appreciation for our (largely undeserved) gifts, we're on the road to destroying society rather than building it.