Malka Shaw, LCSW: Orthodox Jewish Community, Belonging, and Resilience

Malka Shaw is an Orthodox Jewish social worker (LCSW) and educator who focuses on trauma, antisemitism, and Jewish community resilience. She founded Kesher Shalom Projects, offering workshops and support groups that build leadership, communication, unity, and Jewish pride. Raised loosely Conservative and drawn in adolescence to Reform youth programming, she describes her move toward Orthodoxy as a gradual, decades-long process deepened through immersive volunteering in Israel and sustained study. In clinical and communal settings, Shaw applies social-work principles—especially the principle of meeting people where they are—to help individuals and leaders turn isolation into connection and purposeful belonging. She trains allies in cultural competency.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen speaks with Malka Shaw about how Jewish belonging works across denominations, especially after October 7, 2023. Shaw describes a long personal journey from a loosely Conservative upbringing through Reform spaces toward Orthodox life, emphasizing that community proximity and obligation are central. She contrasts Orthodox rabbinic authority (Da'at Torah and binding halacha) with more negotiated leadership elsewhere. Drawing on her Kesher Shalom work, she argues that roles and mutual aid reduce isolation and buffer trauma: meals, carpools, and constant check-ins. Repairing fractures, she says, hinges on communication, accountability, and creating joyful in-person gatherings so people feel seen, safe, and needed.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: I put out a pitch on the Jewish community across different styles of living—Orthodox, humanistic, secular, and so on. I received many rabbinical responses. "I would be happy to offer my opinion." I also think that input from a licensed social worker would be helpful. For background, you are Orthodox. Did you grow up Orthodox?

Malka Shaw: I did not grow up Orthodox.

Jacobsen: When did you become Orthodox?

Shaw: I would not call it a conversion. It was a journey and a process. I grew up loosely within the Conservative movement. As a teacher, I continued exploring and was initially more drawn to the Reform movement because I was searching for meaning. I joined a Reform youth group and found significant meaning there.

After college, I joined a volunteer program in Israel. I chose it instead of the Peace Corps. It involved hands-on volunteer work in Israel in a traditional Jewish framework, with an emphasis on exploring traditional roots and learning about ancient Judaism and spirituality. That process extended through most of my twenties. It was a long journey.

Jacobsen: Two concepts consistently come up in these interviews: community and belonging. How do you understand belonging within the Orthodox Jewish community?

Shaw: Belonging is central. It also connects to our previous conversations about antisemitism. The trauma of antisemitism registers differently in Orthodox communities. There is a physical reality to it and a tendency to turn inward, but there is not the same sense of isolation, because the community is strong.

Community is foundational. When people move, they want to live close to their community. That proximity is essential.

Beyond my personal identity, my professional work as a social worker has reinforced this. Through my work with Kesher Shalom, I run leadership workshops focused on Jewish leadership, communication styles, unity, and pride. Much of this work has addressed October 7, 2023, and the antisemitism and trauma-related aftermath, but it has involved leaders across secular, Reform, Reconstructionist, and Orthodox communities. Although I am personally Orthodox, I have worked with Jewish leaders across the spectrum.

Jacobsen: Do you notice differences in how they lead their communities? How so?

Shaw: Orthodox rabbis generally carry greater authority. That authority is established through years of study. They function as role models and are seen as authoritative figures.

As you move along the spectrum, leadership is less often viewed as authoritative and more as professional, similar to a social worker's role. The rabbi may not be seen as someone whose guidance is definitive in areas such as marriage. In Orthodoxy, one might say, "I received Da'at Torah," meaning authoritative judgment grounded in Torah learning and tradition.

Outside Orthodoxy, advice may still be valued, but it is less often framed as deriving from the authority of the Talmud and the Oral Law, and more from personal knowledge or expertise. This difference can contribute to greater perceived confidence in Orthodox leadership.

Jacobsen: What roles do parents, mothers, fathers, and professionals play in community life, particularly in terms of giving back through work and business? Community is a highly complex concept.

Shaw: Community is powerful for Jews in general. Tikkun Olam—you have heard that concept.

Jacobsen: Yes.

Shaw: You have been in Jewish spaces for a long time.

Jacobsen: I have had a surprising number of Jewish bosses, colleagues, and friends.

Shaw: Right. You are in Canada, though. Otherwise, we invite you for a Shabbat meal to really experience it.

The idea of giving back, the idea of being a light unto the nations—that is prevalent across denominations. In the Orthodox world, however, it is treated as a legal obligation. It is part of Jewish law. For example, there is the idea that a portion of one's income belongs back to the community, rather than charity being simply a good or optional act.

There is a strong sense of obligation toward the community and responsibility for one's role within it. That is one of the things that sets Orthodox communities apart. In my work running workshops on antisemitism and Jewish cultural competency, this has consistently resonated.

Early on, a non-Jewish participant once asked me, "How could you care so much about the hostages? You do not even know them." I felt very sad and said, "I am sorry—you do not know what it feels like to be so deeply connected to people."

I am connected to the hostages. I have never met them, but they are my people.

This morning, while drinking my coffee, something came across my Instagram feed about hostages who have been released—Noa Argamani and Avinatan Or. They were a couple. Noa was rescued in a dramatic operation that felt almost unreal when people first saw the footage. Avinatan had been one of the faces we all associated with the kidnappings.

I have never met them and may never meet them. But I saw images of him looking thin when he came out, and then later healthy on a beach. It made me emotional. I want them to have whole lives—to get married, have children, and live beautiful Jewish lives. That sense of connection is very real, and I do not know how to explain it to someone who has never felt it.

Jacobsen: Another part of the earlier question concerns roles. As with most faith communities, people have privileges but also obligations and responsibilities. Gender roles are often significant, though how strictly they are defined varies by community. Within Orthodoxy, what are the rights and obligations between children and parents, parents and children, and between partners or spouses?

Shaw: That is a significant difference between Orthodoxy and communities outside it. In Hebrew, we call it kibbud av va them, which means honouring one's father and mother. Honouring parents—and celebrating the next generation—is central.

This is a broader cultural problem. There is far less respect for elders now, and that is a serious issue.

Jacobsen: North America is especially harsh in that regard.

Shaw: I agree. I know I may sound like an old lady saying this—and I am not one—but there is real value in respecting elders. But there is something important here: we gain wisdom through life experience. Not respecting that wisdom is a real loss. A lack of respect for lived experience—whether or not someone is a direct relative—is a serious problem.

For example, my children would never call you Scott. If you came to my house, they would call you "Mr. Jacobsen." You are an adult, and addressing you casually would be neither appropriate nor respectful. You might say, "That feels unnecessary or old-fashioned," and it may sound that way, but it is still meaningful.

There are obligations. I have obligations to my husband. He is my primary priority, just as I am his. We describe it symbolically: he is my king, and I am his queen, and it goes both ways. That does not mean subservience. I want to be very clear about that. It means deep mutual respect and responsibility.

When people understand their obligations, they have a place in society. They have belonging and purpose. When people do not know where they belong, lack purpose, and lack identity, the result is often radicalization. People become lost.

Jacobsen: Regardless of the space, people will take a bad answer over no answer. If there is a vacuum, they will fill it, especially with something pseudo-exciting.

Shaw: People often misunderstand structured roles and attach a negative connotation to them. In reality, they can be very positive. Roles and obligations create security. People know that others are looking out for them.

If someone is sick, if a spouse is out of town, the response is immediate: meals are organized, help is offered. When someone has a baby, meals are delivered. No one in my community has a newborn without two or three weeks of homemade food provided. When there is a death in a family, mourners receive meals, and carpools for children are arranged.

People are cared for. No one is isolated. And if someone is absent, people notice. Someone asks, "What happened to Jacobsen? I have not seen him in a while." Someone checks in.

Jacobsen: A natural follow-up is how this extension of filial respect contributes to community resilience, particularly during crises.

Shaw: We see this more clearly than ever after October 7. In Reform, Conservative, and more isolated communities, there has been a strong return to Jewish connection. As antisemitism rose, the desire to reconnect with community increased, especially among non-religious Jews.

It is important to remember that Judaism is not only a religion. It was never only a religion. Judaism is a peoplehood. It is not just ethnicity or belief. Those categories—religion and ethnicity—are relatively modern constructs. Judaism predates them by millennia.

That is why we are seeing college students return to Jewish spaces, whether Chabad houses or Hillel. There has been a surge. This does not necessarily mean they want to become religious or observe every law. It means they want to be with their people. As the world has become more hostile, the desire for connection has grown.

When we talk about leadership, leaders must meet people where they are. That is where social work becomes essential. One of the basic principles of social work—often said jokingly because it is so fundamental—is to start where the client is.

Jacobsen: It sounds obvious, but it often is not.

Shaw: The most basic rule of social work is to start where the client is. When I run leadership workshops, I say the same thing: start where people are. You have to ask where they are emotionally and socially.

If someone says, "I do not want to pray," then that is not where you start. But if someone says, "I am lonely because the people I thought were my friends are now expressing hatred," that is where you start. You meet people where they are, connect with them there, and that is how reconnection happens.

People need connection. They need to feel validated. They need to feel wanted. They need a sense of purpose and belonging. These are basic human needs, consistent with Maslow's hierarchy of needs. They are foundational.

Jacobsen: Where do Orthodox, Conservative, Humanistic, and Reform communities differ in how they define community?

Shaw: They do not differ as much as people assume. What I keep emphasizing is that we are all the same people, and we need to remain united, especially now.

Jacobsen: Suppose there is a fracture in a community—a new trauma or a serious disagreement. How does a community repair itself? It is not always easy, and sometimes fractures last a long time.

Shaw: Two Jews, four opinions.

Jacobsen: Yes.

Shaw: You may have heard that before.

Jacobsen: I have heard a few versions.

Shaw: Fracture is part of community life. There will always be disagreement. There is a saying that if one Jew were stranded on a deserted island, there would still be two synagogues.

There are methods for rebuilding community, but much of the problem comes down to communication. Breakdowns usually begin when people feel unheard or unseen. The challenge for leadership is bringing people back to the same table when they feel invisible or dismissed.

Jacobsen: Every community has its so-called black sheep. How does the Jewish community respond to difficult people—those with dissenting views or those whose behaviour creates tension or conflict?

Shaw: It depends on what we mean by "black sheep." There is a difference between someone who is genuinely destructive or dysfunctional and someone who thinks differently or lives outside the norm.

Jacobsen: Let's separate those cases, then. There is the "out of the box" black sheep—eccentric or unconventional—and the black sheep who is genuinely destructive to the community. Those are two different situations.

Shaw: Right. When someone is destructive to the community, an assessment is needed. How harmful are they? Is there mental illness involved? Are they dangerous to others? Those factors matter, and they need to be evaluated carefully.

That said, one thing that characterizes Jewish culture broadly is that disagreement is not only tolerated but welcomed. Jews are a people who hold multiple opinions at once. That is part of our tradition.

We talked earlier about the Houses of Hillel and Shammai—the idea that two opposing views can both hold value. This principle has profoundly influenced Western legal and democratic systems. Jewish thought has shaped Western society in ways that often go unrecognized.

In the American legal system, for example—and I am less familiar with the Canadian system—Supreme Court opinions are preserved even when they are no longer followed. There is value in dissenting views. That idea comes directly from Jewish tradition.

Even if you have an opinion, Scott, that I disagree with, your opinion still has value. That is a Jewish approach. It is not a cancellation. There is disagreement with the continued recognition of worth.

Repairing the community requires getting people back to the same table. People need to feel safe. They need to take accountability and feel heard.

In broad terms, there are structural differences between Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform communities. In Orthodox communities, authority is more clearly defined. The rabbi is the authority because Jewish law—halacha—is binding and non-negotiable. That stability creates explicit norms of behaviour.

In Conservative communities, authority is more distributed. The rabbi shares leadership with synagogue boards and committees, which collectively shape policy. Leadership can feel more negotiated or relational. Orthodox leadership tends to be more bound and structured, with more precise lines of authority.

When it comes to repairing fractures, communities need to create intentional spaces—listening forums or structured programs—where people can be heard. The challenge is that the individuals most responsible for tension are often the least likely to attend the spaces designed to address it.

This is similar to social work or therapy: the person who most needs therapy is often the most resistant to it. The people who seek help are usually the ones who need it least. That dynamic exists in every community.

You will always have someone difficult in any group. The key is to balance that by strengthening positive communal experiences. Across Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform communities, this often means men's groups, women's groups, children's programming, and social events.

Community life cannot revolve solely around religion. For example, my synagogue is hosting a women's social event on Saturday night that has nothing to do with religious practice. It is simply a social gathering. Over the years, we have organized mother–daughter events, couples' nights, and other events to build connections. These experiences matter.

Some events work better than others. We have done escape rooms and painting events. Sometimes something does not work because of the time of year or the night of the week. But whether it is a JCC or a synagogue, it has to be enjoyable. It cannot be only about religion.

Across Reform, Conservative, and Orthodox communities, it needs to be a positive experience. You want people to find joy. Jewish life is also about pleasure—having fun, building relationships, and wanting human connection. People are isolated now because so much of life happens on social media. Communities need events where people meet in person, put their phones away, and talk.

It doesn't matter what the activity is. It could be an escape room, music, or something simple. For kids, it could be a musician, a magician, or a balloon artist. What matters is being together and enjoying a genuine, old-fashioned connection.

The same applies to churches, by the way—some are clearly more fun than others.

Jacobsen: Are there any quotes or aphorisms from Orthodox Judaism that capture your views on community, belonging, or family?

Shaw: There are many, but one stands out. I live by a teaching attributed to Hillel: "If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?"

Those words shaped my life. On the morning of September 11, when I called my father and told him I was going down to Ground Zero, he said to me, "You are a social worker, and you are a Jew. If you do not help, then who are you?" My mother, of course, said, "Do not go, it is dangerous," which felt very on brand.

That teaching captures it perfectly. We do not live only for ourselves. That is not who we are. We are more than our individual selves.

Another significant influence for me is Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks. He articulated this idea beautifully. One line of his that resonates deeply with me is: "Communities build. They do not destroy. They bring out the best in us, not the worst."

Those ideas reflect everything we have been talking about. He has some other good ones in the community:

"Community is society with a human face, the place where we know we are not alone."

"It's where people know who we are, and miss us when we're not there."

"Once we feel that we are really alone and cannot call on neighbours for help, then we are part of a new social poverty."

Jacobsen: That one is excellent. The idea that when we realize we are truly alone—unable to call on neighbours for help—we enter a form of "social poverty." That concept feels exactly right.

Shaw: It does. Some of these quotes are very strong.

Jacobsen: I agree. What is missing in society, broadly, is community. That seems almost universal.

Shaw: Absolutely. I am deeply grateful that I have a community. Sometimes it is intrusive—we are very much in each other's lives—but it is also beautiful.

When people lack community, the consequences are severe. People deteriorate. Some spiral into crisis. Others become isolated and unwell. I recently spoke with someone about a mass shooting in 2023 involving an army reservist who had been showing warning signs. A significant factor was isolation. Self-isolation is deeply connected to depression.

Let me give you an everyday example. When I was told that a medical procedure was not major and that I could still run errands, I laughed. I said, "I am Orthodox. I cannot go grocery shopping without talking to people." The doctor was confused. But my grocery store is social. You cannot walk into a kosher grocery store, buy one item, and leave without interaction. It is simply not possible.

Jacobsen: I love that example.

Shaw: It illustrates something efficient. I am outgoing, and my profession is inherently social, but this goes beyond personality. People talk at the grocery store. They schmooze. My shopping experience is entirely different from the utilitarian, anonymous experience most people have.

Even something like Costco—yes, it is still Costco—but I will inevitably run into people I know. There will be Jewish families there. There will be Orthodox families there. It is still social.

There is a tension that people do not always understand. On the one hand, there is a desire to say, "We are Orthodox, but we are just like everyone else." And in many ways, that is true. But in other ways, it is not.

If I run out of eggs and want to bake a cake, I can borrow an egg from my neighbour. That is normal in my community. In much of society, that stopped being normal decades ago—not for you personally, but culturally. There was a time when borrowing a cup of sugar was ordinary. Most people today have never experienced that.

Convenience has benefits, but it also has costs. One negative consequence of convenience is social erosion. My children, however, experience this older form of connection. We can knock on a neighbour's door. Even now, people may text first, but the expectation of mutual availability still exists.

My grandparents' generation stopped by. On Shabbat, when you cannot use phones, that kind of visiting was typical. Even today, it is entirely unremarkable for someone to say, "We ran out of eggs—can I borrow one?" That kind of everyday reliance is still alive.

That is community in practice.

Jacobsen: Thank you very much for the opportunity and your time, Malka.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen is the publisher of In-Sight Publishing (ISBN: 978-1-0692343) and Editor-in-Chief of In-Sight: Interviews (ISSN: 2369-6885). He writes for The Good Men Project, International Policy Digest (ISSN: 2332–9416), The Humanist (Print: ISSN 0018-7399; Online: ISSN 2163-3576), Basic Income Earth Network (UK Registered Charity 1177066), A Further Inquiry, and other media. He is a member in good standing of numerous media organizations.