A former congregant once reprimanded me that I could never share publicly what I really thought, especially about other Rabbis. I didn’t agree with her then and still don’t agree with her now, but her words were in my head this week as I read the publicity around the rabbinic letter that went around warning people about the impact of a potential Zohran Mamdani mayoral victory.
I’ve been struck by the dialogue around Mamdani’s candidacy. It has entrenched people in ways that have been surprising, even in a time where binaries are de rigueur. You’re either with him or against him. I’ve seen normally even keeled family members get activated and genuinely worried about what his win might mean for Jews in New York City; I have seen apolitical Jewish friends positively activated and excited for a Mamdani mayoral victory. He is clearly a lightning rod and anything that gets people engaged politically is a good thing in my book, but I want to talk about the Rabbis here.
I’ve signed many a petition in my time in the rabbinate, some fairly anodyne and others on topics that felt dire and urgent. As I read this letter, signed by many friends across the country, it had me wondering about the strategy behind it, not just for what it meant on this specific issue but on a larger trend in American religion.
Over the last decade and a half, a great many pieces have been written about the worry in the Jewish community around the younger generations connecting with their Jewish identity and subsequently, their participation in the larger Jewish eco-system. Rabbis and Jewish professionals contort themselves to try to figure out how to appeal to this next generation: free membership, teaching torah in bars, creating community in coffee shops have been just some of the examples.
One of the clear no-nos though has been the finger wagging admonishment that marked a different generation’s response to the younger generation’s disconnect. It’s been about welcoming and inclusion and shifting away from the cantankerous elder telling you that you’ll understand one day. That’s what I worry about when I read this letter.
I’m not a signatory of this letter. This isn’t because I too don’t worry about a Mamdani victory, but being out of the pulpit, I don’t usually get asks to sign on to things as much. But I also didn’t actively seek out signing because I am not sure this is the right way to reach people. Perhaps these Rabbis (specifically the ones who actually serve NYC) are doing the relational work in their 1-1s to connect with and communicate their concerns with their younger constituents, and I want to give them the benefit of the doubt. But if this letter is their main method of convincing, I am dubious.
Striking a balanced posture in how we relate to our communities is really essential in life, not just now but long ago as well. The Kedushat Levi, Reb Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev explains this in a powerful reflection about Noah, the eponymous protagonist in this week’s portion:
There are two types of righteous people, both of whom serve their Creator. The first category does so with enthusiasm and profound devotion, but does so as an individual only, not endeavoring to draw other people, admitted sinners, nearer to their Creator.
There is a second category of tzaddik, righteous person, who not only serves the Creator himself, but who also is instrumental in leading sinners back to their Creator. Avraham was a prime example of the latter type of tzaddik.
According to Ari’zal1, Noach was even punished for not rebuking the pagans in his time; his punishment consisted of his soul being reincarnated in the body of Moses in order to accomplish then what it had failed to accomplish on its first round inside a human body. Moses made up for the sin of omission of Noach by constantly rebuking the Israelites for their shortcomings.
Noah is described in the beginning of the portion as being ‘righteous in his generation.’ Some understand this as a great credit to Noah. Despite being surrounded by morally corrupt people, he saw a way to shine through. Others see it is a limiting statement. Had Noah been alive during Avraham’s days, he would’ve paled in comparison. That’s what you see alluded to here. While Noah did his best to fight the good fight, he only worked on himself, whereas Avraham worked on others, but it’s the last part of the teaching that I think is fascinating.
The Kedushat Levi quotes the teaching that Noah’s ‘punishment’ was to be reincarnated into Moses’ soul because Moses could really show him how to right people’s wrongs through chastisement. This is clearly meant as a glorification of Moses. Moses, who is seen as one of the great leaders of the people for his humility and ability to guide the people through the desert with his tough love, is lauded for his talent at letting the people know when they’re wrong. That’s all nice and well, except for the fact that one could argue that it’s the very same reason that Moses never enters the promised land. His mostly righteous indignation actually gets him into hot water, ultimately tarnishing his legacy.
It’s that dynamic that popped into my head this week as I read that letter. I worry that the rebuke that is being offered is veering too far into that fiery Moses-like action that ultimately serve as a terminal roadblock. Again, I want to be clear that I really do understand the concern of people for a Mamdani victory. But this tactic strikes me as the wrong one.
I hope that as we move forward into what seems like a Mamdani victory (although election day surprises shouldn’t surprise us anymore), we can strike a different posture in the Jewish community, especially if, as people are predicting, things are going to get even more rough for the Jews. That congregant’s words were in my head for a reason. There’s always a right time for clergy to speak to the moment but there has to be a balance. We can’t be solely like Noah, watching out for ourselves but also can’t be Moses facsimiles, wagging our finger around like Clint Eastwood in Gran Torino.
If we’re going to be on this ark together, riding out the coming storm, we’ve got to find refuge together. How we do that and come out together is up to us.
Shabbat Shalom and Happy Weekend
The progenitor of the Kabbalah/Jewish mysticism movement
One of your best.