When Erringer and I first began shaping Beyond Purpose, we set out to explore how people might reclaim a richer, more sustainable version of service - one that uplifts both the giver and the receiver. Service, as we see it, isn’t limited to uniforms or job titles. It’s an everyday practice, woven into the way we live, connect, and care for one another. But to make sense of the many ways service shows up in our lives, it helps to have a framework. What emerged was a map of four archetypes; four distinct but connected personas that reflect how we serve:
Individual: Everyday acts as a sustainable model of service. Parents, siblings, cousins, teachers, doctors, religious leaders - the people whose direct actions shape our daily lives.
Community: Trust as the foundation to serve. Friendships, faith congregations, sports teams, military units - the groups bound not by blood but by mutual reliance.
Institution: A common goal as the foundation to serve. Schools, companies, hospitals, sports leagues, the military - structures that give service form and scale.
Society: Values and survival as the foundation to serve. Nations, alliances, cultural spheres - the broadest layers of connection that still rely on acts of service to function.
These archetypes aren’t meant to box anyone in. Instead, they help us see how service ripples outward. From the smallest personal interactions to the largest systems that govern our world.
Service, Without the Label
To help us bring life to these archetypes we knew we would need to talk with people we believed embodied these qualities and experiences. And, of course, they needed to be people who would spend time with us and feel comfortable sharing. For me there was no one more obvious than my mother, Karina Rothzeid. I knew some of the anecdotes she would share, but was pleasantly surprised to learn a few I hadn’t known. But what I did not expect was her view on the word service because she’s the kind of person who creates community wherever she goes: whether it’s keeping the extended family connected across continents (literally), nurturing friendships that span decades, staying involved in her synagogue for over 30 years, and raising her three children who have gifted her five grandchildren.
But she doesn’t see it that way.
“I don’t love the word service,” she told me. “Especially in marriage. I don’t serve your father, and he doesn’t serve me. It’s about love, friendship, respect, and compromise.”
This wasn’t resistance so much as perspective shaped by a life that began in socialist Poland, where trust rarely extended beyond a very small circle of family and friends. Growing up in a world where scarcity was normal and privacy was essential (anyone could be an informant), the idea of offering yourself in service to strangers was, frankly, foreign.
It wasn’t until her family escaped the Iron Curtain and emigrated to America at the age of 18 that she encountered the broader, more public expressions of service that many of us take for granted. Even then, she never thought to call what she did service. My mom just… helped people.
The Quiet Work of Lifting Others Up
During our hour-long conversation where the first fifteen minutes was focused on getting Zoom to work, my mom shared lots of vignettes about her life.
One of my favorite stories from our conversation was about the period when she started her professional practice as an independent financial planner. She was introduced to a group of older women who were recently divorced, wealthy, but completely unprepared to handle their own finances. While married, they had been shielded from anything money-related. Some didn’t know how to write a check or pay a utility bill. Divorce had left them not only financially vulnerable but also deeply distrustful.
“I literally taught them how to write a check, how to pay their bills.” She reminded me “this was before the Internet. They had to have tremendous trust in me, because I had access to their money and in most cases their husbands had taken most of it in the divorce decree.”
She didn’t just set up accounts or file taxes. She built independence and restored their confidence. When one client began to feel more secure, she would recommend my mom to another, and another. She charged according to means, and in some cases, helped entirely for free. Trust like that mattered, and she remains friends with some to this day. “I never talk about that,” she told me, “but it gave me tremendous satisfaction.”
She also shared about her Rummikub® group: a circle of women who meet regularly, going on 20 plus years now, swapping stories about love, family, and life, sharing recipes and fashion tips. And of course, when asked, my mother is always willing to share tips and tricks of the financial variety. It’s more than an afternoon of games; it’s a space for perspective, laughter, and community.
And then there was 1990. My dad’s job was moving us from Cincinnati to Belgium and he had to leave immediately in March. We needed to finish the school year before joining him, but that was just the start. Spring was my mom’s busiest season as she prepared tax returns for a growing list of clients. The move was unexpected, and she was also in the final stages of building the house her dreams - while dealing with a builder who was “literally going crazy.” (He was institutionalized later that summer.)
As if that weren’t enough, my oldest sister Lisa was preparing for her Bat Mitzvah, which would occur the week before we moved, and my other sister Michelle, while an accomplished lawyer today, was struggling to read as second grade came to a close. I dare indulge, my mom reminded me that I was an easy-going four-year old who “presented no issues.” Looking back now, I’m still in disbelief at how well it all turned out. She kept her clients, completed and sold the house, hosted a flawless Bat Mitzvah with family flying in from across the country and Canada, and helped Michelle learn to read that summer through nightly practice.
I asked my mom how she did it and she replied quickly “Obligation. I didn’t really think of it as service, I was doing what needed to get done; what was expected of me. Everyday presented new challenges and I had to face it with a positive attitude.”
Mapping the Archetypes to Real Life
Listening to my mom, I realized she had been moving through the archetypes of service without naming them.
Individual: In her marriage, she rejects the language of “serving” a spouse. But she practices care, compromise, and mutual respect - sustaining a relationship for over 45 years.
Community: She’s been part of the same synagogue for decades, showing up not as a formal volunteer but as a trusted presence and friend. Also hosting Rummikub® across a growing network of friends to share and learn from one another.
Institution: Through her financial planning work, she acted within a professional structure - helping clients navigate systems they didn’t understand.
Society: She immigrated to the U.S., bringing with her the values shaped by one society and integrating them into another, contributing to its economic and social fabric in quiet, consistent ways.
Her story is a reminder that service doesn’t have to come with a title, a paycheck, or a formal commitment. Sometimes it’s simply the steady, behind-the-scenes work of ensuring that others can stand on their own feet.
Expanding the Lens
Why tell her story this way? Because many of us, maybe most, struggle to see ourselves as people “in service.” The word can feel loaded, self-important, or transactional. But when we look at the real actions we take, helping a neighbor fix a leaky faucet, mentoring a younger colleague, organizing a meal train for a new parent, we see that service is already there.
The archetypes are a tool to make that visible. They help us see:
When we’re caring for family or close friends, we’re in Individual service.
When we’re showing up for our neighborhoods, teams, or faith groups, we’re in Community service.
When we work toward a mission inside a school, company, or other organized body, we’re practicing Institutional service.
When we think and act in ways that uphold shared values or protect collective survival, we’re in Societal service.
Each level is necessary. Each one strengthens the others.
An Invitation
My mom’s path shows that even if you didn’t grow up thinking of yourself as “in service,” you may already be doing the work. The label is less important than the impact.
So as we start this Beyond Purpose journey, we invite you to reflect:
Which archetype do you inhabit most naturally?
Which one feels less familiar, and why?
Where might you step into a new form of service that lifts both you and the people around you?
If we can each see ourselves somewhere on this map and see the connections between our acts and those of others, we might just build a culture of service sturdy enough to sustain not only our communities, but ourselves.
