In a recent article in the Atlantic (“Why the Rich Don’t Give to Charity“), Ken Stern cites studies showing that – from a percentage perspective – the wealthiest Americans give less than their poorer brethren: 1.3 percent of income versus 3.2 percent. Some theories suggest that, according to UC Berkeley psychologist Paul Piff, the rich are more likely to prioritize their own self-interests above those of other people.

But perhaps the most intriguing finding is the discovery that, among lower-income people, it is the daily exposure to the challenges people face in meeting their most basic needs that “may create ‘higher empathy’” and that this empathy is what generates – well – generosity. Seeing others in need, and experiencing need themselves, makes those who are less able to give more likely to give.

Conversely, “insulation from people in need may dampen the charitable impulse” – so that people who live in homogeneous neighborhoods (the author interestingly cites Bethesda, MD and McLean, VA) are less likely to give to the degree they might because they don’t regularly see and experience need. Instead – at least in the largest numbers – they are inclined to give to alma mater and to large and prestigious arts institutions.

What strikes me is that there are many ways to address “the exposure” problem and that the Catalogue is one of them. Reading stories about people in need is a doorway into the lives of others, an opening created by narratives and images that tell real and compelling stories – whether they are stories of homeless teens who find shelter and support at Alternative House, or LGBT youth who are at greater risk of abuse than their heterosexual peers and who find services and a safe haven at SMYAL, or they are men and women in low-wage jobs who lack health care and find treatment at the Arlington Free Clinic.

Reading about one’s neighbors in need is not, of course, the same thing as living next door to them day in and day out. But compassion emerges in many different ways, and reading has always been, and I think continues to be, a powerful way of knowing. Here at the Catalogue we hope our readers are coming to know their neighbors in our print Catalogue, online, at our events, at the events we post daily on their behalf, through videos available at each charity’s page, and, perhaps, in the visits that donors make to the charities that move them.

“Give where you live” is a powerful rallying cry: it presumes that we are all neighbors even when we don’t live shoulder to shoulder. Here at the Catalogue we work every day to make that presumption a reality.