It takes a congregation

In Judaism, the responsibility to perform most mitzvot falls upon the individual.  Whether it is observing Shabbat, bringing the first fruits of one’s harvest to the Temple in Jerusalem, or regular prayer, it is up to the given Jew to perform or not perform the commandment - and live with the consequences.  There are, however, a few exceptions when the onus of responsibility, if the mitzvah is not fulfilled, passes on to another.  In the case of a child, the Talmud says the responsibility of educating that child falls upon the father. If the father is unable, it is the mother’s responsibility. If the mother is unable, it becomes the community’s job to educate the child.  There are also certain mitzvot that are the responsibility of the community as a whole - such as the provision of schools, medical personnel, and tzedakah funds for the needy.  I recently analyzed a text from Baba Metzia cited by the American Jewish World Service that ascribes communal ownership for certain utilities, such as wells.  But, does this go one step further?    Beyond the fact that the community may have responsibilities to the individual, it is quite obvious that the community cannot exist without the individual. But is the opposite true?  Can the individual exist without the community?

Much is seen today about people who try to live off the grid, or to pursue self-sufficiency.   While growing one’s own food and not contributing to pollution and destruction of non-renewable resources may be laudable, the fact remains that it would be difficult to maintain what we consider a  modern or civilized lifestyle without others.  Setting aside computer networks, television, and roads - the production and distribution of modern medicines require a near-global effort.  Even the use of money necessitates a banking system and the reliance and trust of others in the worth of that money.

So, if one cannot live a modern life without a community,  can one live a Jewish life without a community?

The answer for the Orthodox would be simple. Even if one had the skills to slaughter kosher meat, or decided to live as a vegetarian, there are still certain prayers that need a minyan in order to say.  For the Orthodox, that is ten Jewish adult males.   Although we do not require a specific number for a minyan in Reform Judaism, we still honor this concept that there is personal prayer and there is communal prayer and, for communal prayer, one needs to be with others.

After difficult reflection, I, too, have come to the conclusion that one cannot live a Jewish life on one’s own.  Even having all the skills to be able to perform the expected tasks of Jewish practice - being able to read Torah, blow a shofar, and conduct a seder - these are rituals that are meant to be preformed together.  It is not facetious to look at the metaphor of the sound of a tree falling in the forest with no one to hear.   Judaism is meant to be lived in the world - and with other Jews (and, perhaps, non-Jews, too)  We dance together at Simchat Torah.  We fast together at Yom Kippur.  We drown out the name of Haman at Purim.  We celebrate joys together, and we lighten the burden of sad events with our shared presence.

I was very disturbed to read the recent article in the New York Times about students training on-line to become Bar or Bat Mitzvah.  While I am sure that when the time comes for a celebration, that child will have invited family and friends, he or she will not have built the chevrah (community of friends) that our children do as they prepare (and celebrate) together.  Each year, I tell the new Bar/Bat Mitzvah class that a child becomes Bar or Bat Mitzvah at age 13 no matter whether that moment is marked or not.  However, they have chosen for their child to mark that moment with our community at Temple Sholom.  That choice not only allows for the family to take advantage of our clergy, our worship space, and our educational program, it is a choice to be a part of a Jewish community that will celebrate one of its members reaching Jewish adulthood.

Al tifros min ha-tzibur - the ancient sage, Hillel, admonished us not to remove ourselves from the community.  To really live our Judaism, we need others with whom to celebrate and mourn, to learn and to argue, to pray and sing, to eat and fast.  That is why we come together in Jewish communities; that is why we build synagogues and Temples; that is why it takes a community.

The Seven Habits of Highly Religious Jews

All the time, people tell me that they are not “religious”. Then they tell me all the Jewish things that they do.  Not “religious”, it seems to me, means that they feel guilty about all the things they think they should be doing.  Therefore, here is a better list of criteria, from me, about what how one can judge whether they are “religious” or not. Why should we cede that term to the Orthodox?  You don’t have to do them all to be religious, but if you are looking to expand your practice, the list might provide a few pointers.

1 - Living in Jewish Time - This doesn’t mean that you always know what date it is on the Jewish calendar - rather that you anticipate Shabbat at the end of the week, consider what you will do differently to mark Shabbat, and try to spend time with family and friends.  Having a Jewish calendar, even this one, on your fridge, or putting “Jewish Holidays” on your Google calendar is a good way to keep even minor Jewish holidays from sneaking up on you.

2 - Being Jewishly “Observant” - Again, perhaps not the anticipated meaning of observing the mitzvot, but keeping a Jewish eye out on the world.  This could mean worrying about Israel in the headlines, or “seeing the world through parashat hashavuah glasses” - using the stories and characters of the Torah as metaphors for our lives.

3 - Studying - See last month’s column or my High HolyDay sermons.  As we grow and change, so should our understanding of Judaism.  There are plenty of ways to learn - books, classes, on-line resources -even reading this column.

4 - Trying to Be Holy - We are told in the portion that we read on the afternoon of Yom Kippur to be holy.  There follows a list of practices and laws - including respecting one’s parents, not keeping the wages of our workers overnight, not oppressing the weak, not standing idly by - in short, trying to live up to our Divine potential.

5 - Tikkun Olam - As Jews, we feel a responsibility not only to our co-religionists, not only to our fellow human beings, but to the whole world.  We believe that God left it to us to finish creation.  Our job is to make the world better, not use it up.

6 - Being Part of a Jewish Community - For communal prayer, Judaism asks for a group.  There are reasons to be with others - to share joys and sorrows, to multiply the strength of our individual hands, to be able to look beyond ourselves.  Besides, it is fun.

7 - Self-Reflection - Yom Kippur is not the only time to look back and try to see where we have gone wrong and where we can do better.  Anytime that we can stop, we should see where we have been, so we can better decide where we are going.

So, add up your score.  I bet you’re more religious then you thought.  Now that you feel more comfortable calling yourself a “religious” Jew, feel free to do even more.

Eat, Pray, Love is Torah, Avodah and G'milut Chasadim

Rabbi’s Column - October 2010

As not everyone was able to attend all of our High HolyDay services and hear the full text of all the sermons, I thought that I would take this column to share them.  Rabbi Goldman used to mail out his High HolyDay sermons to the congregation.  To save paper, I will summarize the series here and let you know that you can see the full texts on sholomravsermons.blogspot.com. The paragraphs below summarize Rosh haShanah evening, Rosh haShanah morning, Kol Nidrei, and Yom Kippur morning respectively.  There is also a sermon which serves as an introduction to our trimester theme of Genesis from Rosh haShanah morning II.

Each year at this time, the Rabbis suggest that we engage in a process known as a cheshbon nefesh, literally an audit of our souls.  I have several colleagues who use the month of Elul (that precedes Rosh haShanah) to schedule all of their regular check-ups with doctors and dentists.  The metaphor of a metaphysical annual check-up is a useful one for us to consider as we engage in the work of t’shuvah.  In that sense, we can consider the turning of the leaves, the cooling of the air, and the excess of mailings we receive from the Temple, as that postcard that comes annually for our physician reminding us to schedule an appointment. After all, we would be disappointed if our physician just phoned in a refill of our prescriptions and signed off on our charts that we were the same as last year, without giving a battery of tests and an examination.  Only then are we ready, even if there is little change, to accept our prescriptions for a new year.  Using the model of Elizabeth Gilbert (not the one confirmed at Temple Sholom)’s Eat, Pray, Love, we have translated this prescription into Hebrew - Torah, avodah, and g’milut chasadim.

Just as the doctor looks over the same body each year, to see what has changed, so do we look over the same Torah each year - except we note how we have changed, rather than the scroll.  Each year brings us a different perspective.  We grow and change and have different experiences - hopefully an increased wisdom - and so can find different lessons in our sacred text.  But Torah means not only the five books of Moses, but all of Jewish learning.  Just as we would not accept a doctor who was not always learning about developments in medicine, as well as keeping track of our health, so we, too, need to continue our education and see how our beliefs and even our rituals have held up.  Continued study, for which there are many opportunities here in our own Temple (see page ? or the Eitz Chayim section of our website). Join us as we study Genesis together this trimester, Biblical history the next, and theology in the spring.

Avodah means prayer to us today. To our Biblical ancestors, it signified their worship, which was a physical sacrifice.  Avodah in modern Hebrew means “work” - and we should not be surprised that prayer, like a doctor’s prescription for exercise, not only takes work, but returns more, the more we exert ourselves.  Although prayer can be shown to be efficacious for its self-reflection and meditative processes, prayer brings along with it a relationship with the divine.  All of us can learn the lesson from twelve-steppers, who profit from knowing when things are beyond their control and that there is strength in acknowledging a higher power.

Finally, we might think that g’milut chasadim was the easiest of our three-part prescription to fill.  As Reform Jews, we swim in the pursuit of righteousness as a mighty stream. Yet, social justice is a strident voice.  G’milut chasadim is defined as acts of loving kindness.  The strength of love is that it goes beyond mere infatuation to an acceptance of those whom we love for who they are - warts and all.  If we extend this idea to our acts of g’milut chasadim, we may have to help those who are ungrateful or who behave in ways we disagree with - whether it be in building a cultural center in lower Manhattan, promoting the security and peace of the State of Israel, engaging meaningful political dialogue to make progress in our society, to save Muslims drowning in Pakistan, or the economic victims in our own country..

That is our prescription for the coming year, so that we may become more healthy in our Judaism: Take some Torah and call me in the morning.  Engage in enough prayer to raise your blood pressure a few times each week.  Have a balanced diet of good deeds, even if some are not your favorite.  Then may we all have a healthy Jewish new year.

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

Eight Simple Words to a Better Prayer Experience

“Attend services; morning AND evening; take prayer seriously.”


One of the things that has most impressed me about Michael Pollan (author of Food Rules and the Omnivore’s Dilemma) is how he has taken it upon himself to educate himself in a particular field – food and nutrition – and then found a way to communicate that information in a brief and easily understandable form.  Speaking of what human beings should eat, Pollan offers the following seven words - “Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.”  Not surprisingly, those words can take a great deal of unpacking – which he does in his many books and articles, but the nugget of his advice is easily understood and remembered.


Following the model of Michael Pollen, as an expert in the field of Judaism, I would offer the following eight words as a guide to having a meaningful High HolyDay season and being a healthy Jew: Attend services, morning AND evening, take prayer seriously.  


Attend services – Communal prayer is not the be-all and end-all of Judaism.  Personal practice, home rituals, and ethical living are certainly an integral part of good Jewish practice.  However, one of the secrets that has kept Judaism alive is the shared moments of community.  Judaism provides specific times for everyone to show up at the same place and go through the same experience together.  We gain not only from the moment – the time to celebrate the new year and prepare ourselves to best engage it – but also from the one time a year that we have a chance to reconnect and see everyone, across multiple generations.


Morning and Evening – At camp this summer, I spoke with a few rabbis who said that they had tried to write High HolyDay services as is my practice – with one theme developing over the four major services (Rosh haShanah evening, Rosh haShanah morning, Kol Nidrei, and Yom Kippur morning), but that too many people complained that they missed one or two and so did not follow the thread.  Setting sermons aside, the machzor – the prayerbook we have specifically for the High HolyDays, also has a theme that develops as the worship continues.  Ideas of repentance are introduced in the celebration of the new year on Rosh haShanah evening (as in the Avinu, Malkeinu).  Different, and more serious notes, are developed in the morning service (for example, the Unetaneh Tokef).  Kol Nidre stands as a climax and adds urgency and a structure to the process of t’shuvah – repentance (beginning the Al Cheit).  Yom Kippur takes us the whole day to push us to complete our self-examination (the Vidui), place ourselves in Jewish history (the Mincha/Afternoon service), remember our loved ones (Yizkor), and relax and rejoice together in our shared forgiveness (N’ilah/Concluding service).  Just like a book or a favorite TV show, it is difficult to come in at the middle, or to miss an episode or a chapter.   Confusion can lead to alienation.  Unfortunately, it is difficult to Tivo the High HolyDays; you really need to catch it live.


Take Prayer Seriously – Prayer is not easy.  The themes, and even the music, of the High HolyDays are difficult and sometimes complex.  The metaphors of royalty and punishment, the language of debasing humility, and the references to cataclysmic retribution can be off-putting.  Yet, this very language, evolving and developing over millennia, is what has allowed our people to renew itself, not only in each generation, but in each and every year.  Much work and refinement went into constructing the form of our communal worship.  It should not be surprising that work is required by the worshipper to meaningfully engage in the difficult task of understanding our own complex lives.  Spiritual exercise, like physical, takes effort and repetition, to receive the benefit that we pursue – a healthy soul.


Attend services, morning AND evening, take prayer seriously.  In this new year, please take these words not as reproach, but as advice offered by one who struggles himself with these concepts each Shabbat, as well as holidays.   As individuals and as a community, we all profit by being spiritually healthy.  Let us hope for health of mind and body in the new year.


L’shanah tovah tikateivu- may it be written for a good year for all of us.


Rabbi Joel N. Abraham 

and a time for renewal...

Adonai spoke to Moses in Mount Sinai, saying, “Speak to the people of Israel, and say to them, ‘When you come into the land which I give you, then shall the land keep a sabbath to Adonai. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in its fruit, but in the seventh year shall be a sabbath of rest to the land, a sabbath for the Lord; you shall not sow your field, nor prune your vineyard.’” Lev. 25:1-4

From this idea in Leviticus comes the concept of the sabbatical - a time for rest and renewal. This congregation has long had a tradition of granting its rabbis sabbatical leave and, in my current contract, the Temple has granted me six months of sabbatical over the five years of the contract. At the moment, I plan to take those months individually, when there are no B’nai Mitzvah, holidays, or other major events going on at the Temple. My first month-long sabbatical leave will be this July, 2010. (The next is planned for December-January 2010-11.)

I thought that it would be wrong to head off on sabbatical without taking a moment to thank you, as my congregation, for granting this time; letting you know that I would be away; what arrangements have been made; and, as well, an idea of what I hope to accomplish during this month, and the remaining five months to come.

First of all, I will admit that I was at a loss as to what to do for my sabbatical. Again, how to take a sabbatical is not one of the courses taught at HUC. However, a few years ago, Rabbi Nudell, at Congregation Beth Israel, took a sabbatical and shared some of his wisdom as to what the goals of a sabbatical should be. He suggested a good sabbatical must have three elements: rest, study, and new experiences. I have tweaked this a little. My goals for each sabbatical period, as well as the whole, are to: 1) rest and refresh myself; 2) engage in meaningful study; and 3) find new perspectives on the rabbinate through trying different rabbinic roles. I plan to meet these goals in the following ways: 1) Rest - Although seemingly the most easy, I am looking forward to the opportunity to celebrate Shabbat with my family and not rush to services every week. 2) Study – First, I hope to brush up on my Hebrew skills; it has been over ten years since rabbinic school and my study skills could use a refresher. Second, I hope to outline a course of study over the next sabbatical periods, possibly guided by a Doctor of Hebrew Letters program through Hebrew Union College in “Modern American Judaisms”. 3) New Perspectives – I will be working with the national office of the Central Conference of American Rabbis on a few projects. Doing this work, I hope to contact other rabbis and build connections as well as learn about their careers, joys, and challenges. And, if all of that were not enough, I will be working on a book project with the CCAR Press, related to a journal version of Mishkan T’filah. (See how #1 may be harder than it looks?)

Leading up to my sabbatical, the Executive Committee and a Sabbatical Coverage Committee (led by Mark Nussenfeld and Bob Enda) have worked with me and the Temple staff to determine what the coverage needs might be. As of now, volunteers will be leading services in July, as has been done in the past, and Mark has a list of nearby clergy who are available to cover lifecycle emergencies. In case you have any need, you can call the Temple, as always, and get phone numbers of who to call, twenty-four hours a day.

I hope that each of you has at least a little opportunity for rest, study and new experiences over the summer. I look forward to sharing our experiences at the renewal of the year – Rosh haShanah begins on the evening of Wednesday, September 8, 2010.

The Sin of Wages?

[In January, I spoke about what Judaism has to say about politics. Not necessarily that Judaism says that one should belong to a particular American political party or vote in a particular way, but in as much as politics is the expression of our national will, we as Jews should be knowledgeable about and guided by the moral and ethical teachings of our Jewish heritage in making our political decisions. This month, we will examine the issues of fair wages and financial regulation. – Rabbi Abraham]

You shall not oppress your neighbor; you shall not rob him/her; you shall not keep with you the wages owed to your worker until the morning. Lev. 19:13

I received an e-mail from the National Council of Jewish Women on Tuesday, April 20 noting that it was Equal Pay Day – the date until which the average woman would have had to continue to work to make as much money as the average male – at the same job – would have made by December 31, 2009. The holiness code, quoted above, also states that you shall not incline judgment to the poor or to the rich – that everyone should be equal before the law. Yet despite this leaning toward social justice (what Glen Beck might call “communism”), Judaism also has a strongly practical side.

There is no prohibition in Judaism against making money, nor against keeping what you have earned. However, that money should be earned without taking it unfairly from others. “Wealth obtained by fraud dwindles, but the one who gathers by labor increases it.” (Prov. 13:11) The book of Proverbs has a great deal to say about wealth – not only that it accrues to the righteous, but also that it is a comfort those who have managed to have it: “The rich person’s wealth is his/her fortress, but the ruin of the poor is their poverty.” (Prov. 10:15) Wealth can be something that protects you, but poverty itself is the ruin of the poor – not some condition or flaw that has brought them to it.

As we read this month, the Torah has a very communistic law regarding property. Every fifty years, in the jubilee year, all debts are cancelled, everyone goes back to their familial homes, and the land is reapportioned to everyone based on their tribe of birth. Obviously, this law was meant to favor those who had lost their property over those who had gained. The Torah spoke strongly on the side of the poor. Yet, centuries later (not quite 2,000 years ago), Rabbi Akiva – the populist Rabbi – helps create a legal document, the prosbul, that allows loans to remain in effect past the jubilee year. Imagine it as the mortgage derivative of the 1st century. But Akiva does this not to help the bankers keep their money, but because the poor had been unable to get loans in the 48th and 49th years, because no one would loan to them. The Torah prohibits lending at interest, yet by the time of the Rabbis, loaning at interest is permitted because without it, no one would offer loans.

Jewish law has an eminently practical side regarding money – it does no one good when it is not in circulation. People are allowed to make money with their money because otherwise, they will not extend credit. However, that is a far cry from permitting and licensing abuse. Proverbs also says, “Better is a little with righteousness, than great income with injustice.” (Prov. 16:8)

Some questions to ponder: How much is too much? Would a sensible moral rule such as the quote from Proverbs 16 keep us from the boom and bust cycle of financial bubbles? Where is the line where making money for ourselves comes at the expense of others? How responsible are we for the actions of those who handle our investments, of the instruments and companies we invest in?

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

Teach Your Children Well...

[In January, I spoke about what Judaism has to say about politics. Not necessarily that Judaism says that one should belong to a particular American political party or vote in a particular way, but in as much as politics is the expression of our national will, we as Jews should be knowledgeable about and guided by the moral and ethical teachings of our Jewish heritage in making our political decisions. This month, we will examine the issues of public education. – Rabbi Abraham]


In every country, district and town we should arrange for education for the children. A city which does not have a school for its children is excommunicated until arrangements for lessons are made. If the citizens of that town don't want to make such arrangements then the city should be destroyed, for the world exists only because of the [merit of the] study of school children.
Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Talmud Torah 2:1

It should not be surprising that the medieval sage Maimonides’ code summarizing Jewish law should have whole section concerning the laws of education – Hilchot Talmud Torah (remembering that Torah means not only specifically the five books of Moses, but also education as a whole). The first chapter tells about the responsibility to teach one’s own children and what to teach them. The second chapter discusses the responsibilities of the community regarding the education of its children. In addition to the requirement of a town to provide education, there are also suggestions about the age to begin learning (around six or seven), the class size (maximum 25 for one teacher, with an aide until 40, and a second teacher after that), and the proper attitude and aptitudes of instructors (not one who is slovenly, or who pays little attention to the students).

Judaism is a religion that is based on learning – as we noted in our last congregational education day, we are known as the people of the book. But, beyond the idea that a certain amount of instruction is needed to preserve Judaism, we further believe that education is needed to preserve Jews. This fact may often be lost in our modern world of supplemental Jewish education – where we focus on educating about Judaism. The origin of Reform Judaism was in the era in which European Jews were once again beginning to be permitted to study at universities. The concept arose of torah im derekh eretz – Torah with the way of the world, or Jewish and secular education.

Now, where does Judaism stand on the education of others – of those outside the Jewish community? On the one hand, the tradition does heavily favor Jewish study, which is neither relevant nor expected of those who are not regularly involved in the Jewish world. On the other hand, we Jews, in general, have seen our situation improve as the education and knowledge of our neighbors improves. The more knowledgeable and literate a society, the less likely there is to be prejudice (with a few glaring exceptions). Also, we were reminded recently at our Passover seders that we were slaves in Egypt, and we know what it is like to be oppressed. Education can be a means to avoid slavery and oppression – by the ability to change one’s circumstances, know one’s rights, or seek redress of wrongs.

On the means of funding public education, there is a large divide in the Jewish community. In much of the Orthodox community, where separate education in day schools outside the public school sphere is emphasized, there is strong support of voucher systems and public funding for private education. On the more integrated liberal side, where Jewish children are more likely to be in public schools, there is more support for public education and funding. Both because of the deep Jewish commitment to learning for one’s children and education in general, it is not surprising to see Jewish parents so active on PTA’s and school boards.

Some questions to ponder: Where does education fit on the Jewish value ladder – in relation to providing food, clothing, and shelter? How much do we believe, as a value, in the potential of education and what is the necessary infrastructure of a society that rewards education? How do we deal with difficult issues like quotas to help those disadvantaged, when we have been restricted by quotas in the past? What is the personal vs. the communal responsibility for secular or Jewish education?

Rabbi Joel N. Abraham

The Buck Stops Where?

Do not favor the poor or show deference to the rich; judge your kin fairly – Lev. 19:15

[In January, I spoke about what Judaism has to say about politics. Not necessarily that Judaism says that one should belong to a particular American political party or vote in a particular way, but in as much as politics is the expression of our national will, we as Jews should be knowledgeable about and guided by the moral and ethical teachings of our Jewish heritage in making our political decisions. Therefore, I will use this column in this month and going forward to lay out some of the different Jewish texts that relate to political issues of the day. This month, we will examine the issues of political influence and corruption and campaign fundraising reform – Rabbi Abraham]

We seem to accept a certain inexorable logic in American politics. To be elected, one needs to campaign. To campaign, one needs money. To raise money, one needs donors. And, after the election, there is a debt owed to the donors. The recent Supreme Court decision declaring that political donations are an aspect of free speech, and therefore fall under Constitutional protections, is expected to impact that political calculus in ways that will favor larger, corporate donors. The fear is that, since corporations can give more money than individuals, they will have undue influence over legislators and, therefore, over legislation.

Judaism seems to weigh in on the influence of money. In Deuteronomy 16:19, the Torah warns that those in political power should not “take a gift: for a gift blinds the eyes of the wise, and perverts the words of the righteous”. The taking of money, or other types of gifts, can cause even those who are wise to see things differently, despite their best efforts, and distorts testimony, even from expert witnesses. (The word “righteous” in the Biblical legal context, actually means those who are judged by a court to be in the right.) Why does this happen? The Talmud explains in Ketubot 105b: "Why is graft forbidden? Once a judge accepts graft he identifies as one with the briber and no one is capable of seeing a fault in himself." There is a relationship created between the giver and receiver, and the receiver begins to identify his interests with the giver. On the more venal end, if the donor does poorly, there will be no more money to give any one. To give a more generous perspective, a legislator might feel that the commitment of those who gave large amounts to his or her campaign should be reflected in that campaign’s results – that legislator’s term in office.

Recently, Rep. Rangel from New York temporarily stepped down from his powerful position as chair of the Ways and Means committee, because of how the perception of a trip that he took on someone else’s dime reflects on the Democratic party and its other candidates. Amid all the other scandals facing him, New York Governor Paterson is facing accusations regarding his accepting Yankee tickets for his family. As voters, we look on these stories and wonder who and what are the influences on our elected officials. Even if there were no cases in which such gifts actually resulted in changing a vote or a line in a bill, our suspicions lead to broken trust. The very idea that our representatives truly represent those who voted for (or even against) them comes into question.

Judaism expects legal cases to be judged on merit – tzedek, tzedek tirdof – Justice, justice shall you pursue. As it says in the portion that we read on Yom Kippur afternoon, the “holiness code” quoted above in Leviticus, we are told not to be swayed by those who have more money, or by those who have less.

Some questions to ponder –

Do we believe in a standard of judgment? Do we expect our legislators to follow their own consciences or to follow the popular will? Does that expectation change how we pick whom we would vote for? Is “transparency” in donation enough of a counter, or does money still blind the eyes of the wise, even if everyone can see where the money is?

Judaism and Politics

Tzedek, tzedek tirdof - Justice, justice, shall you pursue Deut. 16:20

In September, around the High HolyDays, conservative commentator Norman Podhoretz wrote a column asking, “Why are Jews Liberals?” (You can find a link to the article and my commentary on my blog - http://sholomrav.blogspot.com/2009/09/why-are-jews-liberals-because-they-are.html). As the question on the intersection of Judaism and politics comes up quite often, I thought that I would take a moment to comment.

First of all, let us revisit the primary belief that Jews have about what Judaism has to say about politics: Judaism has nothing to do with politics and, further, religion and politics should be completely separated – especially when it’s somebody else’s religion and somebody else’s political beliefs. As a minority in a democracy, we Jews are often the first group to take umbrage when we hear a political statement delivered with a religious imperative. We hear these statements as, “God (or Allah or Ja or whoever) wants everyone to do this (or not do that) and there is no room for compromise as any other idea is wrong or a sin.” One of the values that, as a minority religious group, we most treasure is the idea of separation of church and state – which we often interpret as religion should have no influence on government.

What then is religion for? Why do we as Jews have a complex and nuanced moral system, honed by millennia of real-world interaction, if not to use as a guide to how we live in the world? Are we not challenged by our religion to be tillers and tenders of the earth? Engage in Tikkun Olam? Do justly and love mercy? If, as Aristotle termed it, the human being is a zoon politikon – a political animal, and politics is the interaction of human beings then it would be a sad religion, culture, or people that did not have some sort of political ethic.

Indeed, most of Judaism is political. The Ten Commandments, the b’rit (covenant) between God and the Jewish people is a political document – laying out our relationship with God (no idols, keep the Sabbath), detailing the society we must create (honoring our parents) and limiting our behavior (no murder, stealing, adultery, coveting, or bearing false witness). The books of Samuel and Kings are a political history of the Jewish nation. The books of the prophets are political screeds – decrying the current society and government and demanding change. Our highest hope in Judaism is the hope for a Messianic Age – a geopolitical moment when justice and mercy will rule for all on earth.

Perhaps it is that politics has become a dirty word – nothing that we would want to engage in; something immoral and certainly not proper for discussion in a house of worship. If so, the problem is not with politics, but the current practice (and perhaps practitioners) of it. Science is not bad because we have created weapons of terrible destruction. We have also found ways to extend life and better the lives of others. Politics (and, may I add, religion) is the same. We must find a way to act politically in a morally authentic – and Jewishly responsible – manner.

What I find in Judaism is not only a moral compass, but the lessons evidenced by centuries of struggle with making the world into a more ideal place. One of those lessons may be that my beliefs are not those of others, and I cannot force them to believe as I. However, that does not remove from me the responsibility of acting according to my Jewish values – of demanding that my government provide equal access to opportunity (as may or not have been provided for me and my ancestors), help to those who struggle, barriers to those who would take advantage of the powerless, and an opportunity to dream dreams larger than those I can construct with solely my own two hands. I do not ask others to act in this way because Judaism demands it of them, rather to explain that I must, because it demands it of me.