You can’t always keep politics out of the pulpit - The Jewish Chronicle

Earlier this summer, clergy in the United States were given leeway to endorse candidates for political office without jeopardising the tax-exempt status of their institutions. It is a freedom that more than 1,000 rabbis from across the country took advantage of in recent elections, not in order to endorse a candidate but in effect to oppose one: Zohran Mamdani, the radical Democrat who last week became Mayor of New York.

They gave vent to their alarm in a letter that accused Mamdani of refusing to condemn “violent slogans” (they were alluding to the “globalise the intifida” chant) and denying Israel’s legitimacy. But some rabbis were wary of putting their name to such a document. Explaining why, one of the country’s most prominent Reform rabbis, Angela Buchdahl, told her Central Synagogue congregants that there were specific organisations to deal with electoral politics. “Central Synagogue is a Jewish spiritual home and we want to keep it that way,” she wrote.

Nevertheless, she subsequently added to the chorus of condemnation in a sermon, denouncing Mamdani’s “false claims of genocide” against Israel.

Inevitably, such episodes raise questions about the appropriateness of rabbis engaging in politics – usually, from those who disagree with the opinion expressed.

Such interventions are not unheard of in the UK, most notably six years ago when, shortly before the 2019 general election, Chief Rabbi Sir Ephraim Mirvis raised concerns about the record of the Corbyn-led Labour Party on antisemitism. While it was not his place to tell anyone how to vote, he said, he urged people to “vote with their conscience,” having pointedly observed: “How complicit in prejudice would a leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition have to be in order to be considered unfit for high office?”

More recently, Sir Ephraim criticised Sir Keir Starmer’s government for recognising Palestinian statehood while the hostages were still languishing in Gaza.

The new Movement for Progressive Judaism (formed from the union of Liberal and Reform) has been active too, lending its support to the Choose Democracy and Peace campaign, which takes a strong stand against Israel’s “extremist” government for overseeing “violence and displacement on the West Bank” as well as “attempts to erode democracy and equality within Israel”.

Rabbis here would certainly not be expected to start endorsing contenders for political office – some years ago a United Synagogue minister was ticked off by his leadership for signing the nomination papers of his local Tory parliamentary candidate. Yet there have been instances of rabbis combining a political role with a communal one: Rabbi Danny Rich, the Mayor of Barnet, was still chief executive of Liberal Judaism when elected as a Labour councillor in the London borough.

The argument for rabbis steering clear of politics is that this is likely to prove divisive within congregations. For some, a synagogue should be a sanctuary in more senses than one – a place of respite from the rough and tumble of worldly affairs. Even more, it is a place where Jews go to mix with other Jews and therefore should be somewhere to foster feelings of fellowship rather than stir up issues that might cause dissension.

The nervousness around politics is likely to be even greater when the politics in question are those of Israel. And yet there are instances when politics and religion are so entwined that it is virtually impossible to separate them – eg the influence of messianic Zionism or settlement in Judea and Samara, where there is obviously a Judaic dimension.

While a community may prefer to keep such contentious issues out of the pulpit, it would be unreasonable to expect a rabbi to hold their peace if they feel strongly about it either way. In which case, the question becomes how, rather than whether, a community should grapple with them.

An example from the past offers one approach. While most British Jews supported the Oslo peace accords between Israel and the Palestinians in 1993, there were dissident voices. The founding rabbi of the independent Ner Israel Synagogue in Hendon, Dr Alan Kimche, was one. Among other things, he believed it was halachically forbidden to cede any part of the Promised Land.

Shortly after the signing of the accords, the synagogue staged a debate in which Rabbi Kimche advanced his case and the then Chief Rabbi, Lord Jakobovits, a noted dove, opposed it. An issue of politics was turned into an opportunity for education in which different views were aired and explored in a constructive way. On the 30th anniversary of the debate, the synagogue published a pamphlet with a transcript of it -– a record of the land-for-peace discussion from a religious perspective.

Jakobovits, of course, ran into controversy more than once with his public pronouncements on Israel, which he defended by drawing support from the prophets, “For Zion’s sake, I cannot be silent, for Jerusalem’s sake, I cannot be still” (Isaiah 62).

It was not only on Israel that he got into hot water with some in the community. When the Church of England issued a critique of government social and economic policy in the inner cities in 1985, he responded with his own criticism of the Church’s position which he felt had under-emphasised the role of individual responsibility. For some Jews, this aligned him – and by extension the community – too closely with the Thatcher government. But for Jakobovits, this was a matter of ethics, not party politics, that arose out of a deep conviction that Judaism had something to say on contemporary issues.

Ultimately, rabbis should be able to judge the mood of their congregation and know how far they can go when speaking out. But if we want religious leaders worthy of the title, we should give them scope to lead.

Photo: Zohran Mamdani (centre), the radical Democrat who was elected Mayor of New York earlier this month (photo: Getty Images)

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