The Jewish Case for Networking

As an introvert, I am not a big fan of large gatherings, even when they are professional conferences or conventions offering genuinely valuable content. Yet yesterday, I found myself at such an event, where I was scheduled to speak for five minutes as part of a panel. The topic was important enough for me to overcome my dislike of the format, and the panel itself went smoothly.

When the discussion ended and the conference broke for recess, I noticed something interesting. There were people like me in attendance—people who had come with a clear purpose and were now enjoying the break. Some, like me, had been invited to speak. Others had come to listen. During the recess, they found an empty chair to catch up on work, checked messages on their phones, or sampled the assortment of pastries and fruit offered to attendees.

But there were also those who seemed to view the break not as a pause from conference-related work but as a continuation of it. Their task? Relentless networking. They moved effortlessly from one person to another with smiles and greetings, exchanging a quick memory with one acquaintance before beginning a new conversation with another. Here they slipped naturally into a circle of people already talking; there they introduced themselves to someone they had never met before. Introverts like me watched them from the sidelines with a mixture of amazement and admiration, while business coaches would undoubtedly applaud their skills.

The business world has long embraced the famous saying of Porter Gale, former VP of Marketing at Virgin America: “Your network is your net worth.” And the importance of networking extends far beyond business. Whether you are a nonprofit executive, a journalist, a social activist, or a politician, success depends to a large extent on your ability to create and maintain meaningful connections.

There is, however, something slightly uncomfortable about reducing human relationships to a strategy for success. The language of networking often suggests that other people are valuable because of what they can do for us—because they can advance our careers, open doors, or increase our influence. Judaism arrives at a similar conclusion—that human beings cannot thrive alone—but from a very different starting point.

Judaism teaches that human beings were never meant to function in isolation; they need others in order to flourish. As Ecclesiastes teaches: “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Yet other people are necessary for more than protection and practical support. The Book of Proverbs teaches: “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” The commentators explain that just as one iron blade sharpens another, human beings refine one another through the exchange of ideas and the challenge of shared study.

Our sages strongly emphasized the importance of human bonds and connections. The Mishnah in Pirkei Avot warns us, “Do not separate yourself from the community,” and also reminds us that every person has something to offer: “Do not despise any man ... for there is no man who has not his hour ...”

The remarkable survival of the Jewish people during nearly two thousand years of exile was inseparable from their ability to create strong communities, with systems of self-government and mutual responsibility that impressed many observers. In his famous essay Concerning the Jews, Mark Twain expressed admiration for the effectiveness and resilience of Jewish communal life.

Over time, these values became woven into Jewish culture and social behavior. The instinct to search for connections, identify shared acquaintances, and place every new relationship within a wider web of community became almost second nature. Whenever two Jews meet, they often begin playing “Jewish geography,” trying to discover whether they have mutual acquaintances. It is a distinctly Jewish form of networking. We are not merely becoming acquainted in the present; we are establishing that, in some sense, we were never entirely strangers to begin with. Somewhere, there is already a thread connecting us.

Jewish networking, if we may call it that, is not primarily driven by a desire to increase our bank accounts. Behind it lies a deeper idea: that a human being reaches his or her fullest potential not in isolation but as part of a larger community. Yet these same habits of connection and mutual trust have also helped Jews survive and prosper in the economic sphere.

So what about introverts like me, who lack a natural inclination toward mingling, self-promotion, and initiating conversations with strangers? Fortunately, networking does not have to look the same for everyone. We may prefer making initial contact by email rather than through a cold call, or seek out deeper one-on-one conversations instead of joining large circles of people. But one way or another, it is probably best not to devote the entire break to our pastries and our phones. Even if we occasionally feel otherwise, we, too, need other people.