Judaism: Liberal or Conservative?

I would hope that when asked for help by a brother in need, each of us in this room would respond better than our patriarch Jacob did. The scene is one we know well: Esau comes home, famished from a hunt. He is faint and believes himself to be near death; he begs his brother for a bowl of lentil soup. Unconscionably, Jacob responds by demanding something in return – the birthright. Esau, in all his flawed humanity, responds: “I am at the point of death, so of what use is my birthright to me?” (Gen. 25:32) He sells his birthright on the spot. The deal secure, Jacob feeds Esau, a bitter meal shared between brothers.

So much for the first Jewish soup kitchen.

What would you have done? What do you do? How do you respond when asked for help by someone in need? As Jews with liberal sensibilities, we squirm at the way Jacob responded, a charitable act done so grudgingly. Yet, you and I both know that that we can’t and don’t give to everyone in need. It is not only because we are unsure as to whether that homeless person will use the dollar for food or for drugs. We don’t give, or – let me speak personally – I don’t always give, because while supporting the needy is unequivocally a Jewish value, resources are limited and there are different strategies when it comes to expressing that value. You don’t have to be an economist to know that when addressing societal ills, the most effective remedy isn’t necessarily giving out dollar after dollar. I feel the anxiety everyday – not just on the street, but here in the building. As rabbi of a synagogue called “Park Avenue Synagogue,” I receive numerous requests for tzedakah every single day, in person, by email, by mail, by phone. Should I give to everyone who asks, or should I write a large check to FEGS or Met Council or one of the other agencies that work towards providing self sufficiency? Shall we be the sort who give out fish, or teach people how to fish? The question goes beyond local acts of charity. What about the bigger concerns facing the nation – poverty, housing, or more currently, health care? When it comes to setting social policy, does Judaism recommend one approach over another? Are Jews, is Judaism, liberal or conservative in its orientation?

Over the past few months there has been a rather fascinating and occasionally vitriolic public debate taking place between Norman Podhoretz of Commentary and Leon Wieseltier of The New Republic, addressing the question of Jews and social policy. While this debate has been going on for quite a while, it has taken on new life with Podhoretz’s latest book Why Are Jews Liberal? Podhoretz explores why Jews have historically aligned themselves with liberal causes, social policy, the Democratic Party – often acting and voting against our self-interest, recalling Milton Himmelfarb’s quip that “Jews earn like Episcopalians and vote like Puerto Ricans.” Podhoretz, the champion of neo-conservatives, argues that while it made sense to be an economic liberal when Jews were starving over sewing machines in the sweatshops of the Lower East Side, there is no defensible reason for Jews to continue to cluster on the political left, chasing the false messiah of liberalism. Making things all the more awkward, when it comes to Israel, it has been the political right, not the political left, that has proven time and time again to be the staunchest supporters of Israel. Podhoretz and his neo-conservative Jewish colleagues like the late Irving Kristol write essays with gentle titles like “On the Political Stupidity of Jews.” They are exasperated by their brethren who continue to flock to the left, against their own interests, against Israel’s interests, and against any accurate reading of Jewish tradition.

Then comes Wieseltier, the champion of the Jewish left, perplexed by Podhoretz’s bafflement. Is it so hard to understand, he asks, that Jews should find it difficult to swallow the Right’s position on gun control, abortion, and gay rights, not to mention health care, government, and tax policy? It isn’t so hard; in fact it is quite easy to open up any Jewish text and see that we are commanded to perform acts of social justice. Self-interest has never been the motivating force for what we do as Jews. We are kind to the stranger, to the orphan, to the widow and the poor, because we were once strangers in a strange land. Long ago, the Torah acknowledged that there may come a time when acts of random kindness would not necessarily be in the self-interest of the Jewish community. Our Jewish consciousness and conscience have been driven not by self-interest, but by historical memory. Whether lovers of Israel belong to the right or the left, Wieseltier takes Podhoretz to task for misreading history, misreading the motivations of the Christian Right and mistakenly believing that it is somehow a contradiction for a Jew to love Israel and have sympathy for the Palestinians. It is neither a mystery nor a scandal for Wieseltier to understand why Jews are liberal. We’re liberal – as the title of Wieseltier’s most recent article states – “Because we Believe.”

Now I could go on. I really love these public debates. I read both authors; both Commentary and The New Republic sit on my bedside table. I read them both and then rinse thoroughly with The New Yorker. I figure the truth is always somewhere in between Wieseltier and Podhoretz. Which is why, of course, Jews are somewhat split as a people and as individuals when it comes to social policy. We acknowledge there is truth on both sides. We want to be liberals, but we also know there are limits. We believe in the infinite dignity of every human being, but we also know, to paraphrase Milton Friedman, that there is a time when equality of opportunity and equality of rights may not translate into material equality. If this is the case, if as the Talmud states, “Elu v’elu,” there is truth to both, then where does it leave us? What exactly are we to do?

I think in this conversation one needs to separate values from tactics. Let’s take for obvious example what is being debated on the Senate floor today: health care. Here I rely on my teacher and rabbi, Elliot Dorff, who has written extensively on this topic. There is nothing wrong with saying that from a Jewish point of view, the fact that more than 40 million Americans have no health insurance is “an intolerable dereliction of society’s moral duty.” As Jews, we can be united in saying this present condition cannot continue. Nevertheless, the Jewish demand to make health care accessible does not necessarily mandate a particular form of delivery. Judaism does not recommend the platform of one political party over another.

As the son and the brother of physicians, I am happy to say that the Talmud writes, “A physician who charges nothing is worth nothing!” (Baba Kamma 85a) Rabbinic literature has a fairly developed sense of market rates and valuing skilled labor. At the same time, you don’t need to look very far in rabbinic literature to see that the entire community is responsible for ensuring that all its members receive the health care they need. Judaism holds certain values sacred; it does not recommend particular policies for realizing those values. We should be suspect of anyone who insists it does. During the years I lived in Chicago, legislation was proposed requiring that every big box store, such as Walmart or Costco, pay a certain wage with certain benefits. Every rabbi was asked to preach in favor of passing that legislation. The effect of the legislation, well meaning as it was, was the opening of new Walmart stores, but on the other side of the state border. Because of the legislation, the jobs and the consumers went five minutes further down the road, taking a lot of tax dollars away, tax dollars that presumably would have gone to pay for some of the pressing social service needs of Illinois.

I have no problem giving a sermon that will make me unpopular with anyone or everyone in the room. If you want to know what I think about health care, or governmental intervention, or tax policy – you can invite me for a beer – I have an opinion just as each of you do. But from this pulpit, I won’t tell you that Judaism teaches X, Y, or Z about it. I won’t, because it is intellectually dishonest to say that it does.

Judaism is not liberal or conservative; it is neither and it is both. This acknowledgment signals the beginning, not the end of the conversation. When you find yourself struggling to respond to health care or the minimum wage or a homeless person on the street, don’t despair. Your anxiety means that you are human. If you weren’t concerned about health care, if you weren’t concerned about the plight of the homeless, then you should worry. The most critical part of this conversation is that you do not let your angst lead to inertia. This is not a theoretical exercise. It is not OK to read Commentary one night and The New Republic the next night and do nothing during the day. You must do something, whether it is giving tzedakah generously, giving of your time towards a volunteer organization, or being involved in the political process. A great way to start is by turning out tomorrow for our own Vicki K. Wimpfheimer Mitzvah Day. Sign up for a project, make a site visit; there are plenty of activities to choose from. Just don’t stay home, tomorrow or in the days to come. It makes no difference to me if your response is liberal or conservative, I only insist that you have a response, one in which you believe and one upon which you act.

We find in the Palestinian Talmud in Hagigah (2:1) the following statement: “This teaching is like two paths, one of fire and one of snow. If one inclines to this side, one dies by fire; to that side, and one dies by snow. What should one do? Walk in the middle.” When it comes to the issues of the day, we can be singed by the right or the left. But we dare not stand still, we dare not stand idly by, we are obligated to step forward on that path, however narrow it may be. Make no mistake, our world is deeply flawed, and we must work to repair it. We can debate the tactics, but on the goals we stand united. Today, tomorrow, and the next day we will work together towards perfecting God’s creation.