The realm of social action and tzedakah is vast and intimidating. Many of us stand in the face of suffering, grief and oppression and wonder how on earth we could make even the smallest difference. You can imagine, then, that when I learned about these two teenagers, each of whom is making a difference in the lives of literally hundreds—even thousands—of refugees in Darfur, I wasn’t only humbled—I was floored.

A little over a year ago, a new congregation, Beth Shalom, was formed in central Florida. Part of any congregation’s responsibility is service to the community, so I looked for a way to do my part.

Malaria is a preventable and treatable disease—mostly found in Africa—and caused by mosquitoes. If you took all the kids in the world who die from malaria every day, they could fill seven jumbo jets. For just $5, someone can purchase a bed net treated with insecticide and save two to three lives.

Growing up, many of us are constantly told that we can “make a difference” and “be the leaders of tomorrow.” But let’s face it: Although unquestionably admirable, this message perhaps has become a bit of a broken record, to the effect that many teens feel that tikkun olam (repair of the world) has become a hopeless endeavor.

On February 23, as I boarded a bus with my temple confirmation class, I had no idea that the weekend I was about to experience would have such a powerful effect on me.

On April 22, 2007, 500 wheelchairs rolled across the San Diego Jewish Academy’s campus. That day, 300 Jewish teens from across San Diego got down on their hands and knees, wrestling with wrenches and screws to build 500 wheelchairs made of lawn chairs and bike tires, which were then shipped to disabled citizens in Tijuana, Mexico, and surrounding communities. Through our hard work, the priceless gift of mobility was given to people who had been living on the ground with rats or stuck in a bed, having the joys of life robbed from them.

I was driving home from school the other day on my usual route. I traveled by rows of retail stores and restaurants, a large baseball field, and then approached a small-disheveled sculpture park along the waters of the Bay. I stopped at the traffic light parallel to the park and for once took the time to look over at the scene taking place that day.

A high-school Junior in Palo Alto, Calif. explains why doing manual labor in a third-world country was one of the best experiences of his entire life

an interview with SimhaRosenberg at the Jewish Coalition for Service

What is J-Serve 2005?