A Lifelong Democrat Reflects on Israel – Parashat Devarim
“You shall not show favoritism in judgment… for judgment belongs to God.”
— Deuteronomy 1:17
I have been a Democrat for as long as I can remember.
I was born into a family of lifelong Democrats. My parents believed that the Democratic Party stood for justice, compassion, civil rights, equality before the law, and America’s responsibility to lead with moral purpose. Those values became my values. They still are.
That is why I write these words not with anger, but with sadness.
For most of my life, support for Israel was never a partisan issue. Democrats and Republicans disagreed on taxes, healthcare, education, and foreign policy, but there was broad agreement that Israel—the Middle East’s only liberal democracy and America’s closest ally in the region—deserved America’s unwavering support.
Military aid to Israel was never viewed as charity. It was viewed as an investment in democracy, regional stability, and the security of one of America’s most reliable allies.
Today, that consensus is eroding.
Within the Democratic Party, there has been a profound shift. Legitimate criticism of Israeli government policies has increasingly given way, in some quarters, to questioning America’s commitment to Israel itself. Too often, Israel is portrayed almost exclusively as the oppressor while Palestinians are portrayed exclusively as victims, with insufficient attention paid to Hamas’ ideology, its use of terrorism, and its deliberate exploitation of Palestinian civilians.
This change has left many lifelong Democrats—and many American Jews like me—feeling politically homeless.
As I struggled with these thoughts this week, I found myself returning to Parashat Devarim.
As Moses prepares the Israelites to enter the Promised Land, he recalls establishing judges over the people. His instructions are timeless:
לֹא־תַכִּירוּ פָנִים בַּמִּשְׁפָּט כַּקָּטֹן כַּגָּדֹל תִּשְׁמָעוּן לֹא תָגוּרוּ מִפְּנֵי־אִישׁ כִּי הַמִּשְׁפָּט לֵאלֹהִים הוּא.
“You shall not show favoritism in judgment. Hear the small and the great alike. Do not fear any person, for judgment belongs to God.”
(Deuteronomy 1:17)
At first glance, Moses is speaking about judges in a courtroom. But our tradition understands these words much more broadly. Every one of us is called upon to judge situations, ideas, leaders, and events. The question is not whether we will judge; it is whether we will judge honestly.
The Sfat Emet, Rabbi Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter of Ger (1847–1905), commenting on this verse, offers a profound insight.
He writes:
כִּי הַמִּשְׁפָּט לֵאלֹהִים הוּא. כְּפִי מַה שֶּׁהָאָדָם מְבַטֵּל עַצְמוֹ וְנוֹגֵעַ לֹא לְעַצְמוֹ, רַק לַאֲמִתַּת רְצוֹן הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא – אָז יָכוֹל לָדוּן דִּין אֱמֶת.
Translated:
“‘For judgment belongs to God.’ To the degree that a person sets aside his own interests and does not judge from personal inclination, but seeks only the truth of the Holy One’s will, only then can he render a judgment of truth.”
(Based on Sefat Emet, Devarim 5641.)
What an extraordinary challenge.
The Sfat Emet teaches that the greatest obstacle to justice is not ignorance.
It is bias.
We naturally judge through the lens of our politics, our emotions, our identities, and our preferred narratives. We decide who is righteous and who is guilty before the evidence has even been presented. We are drawn to stories that confirm what we already believe.
The Torah demands something infinitely more difficult.
Strip away your ego.
Strip away your politics.
Strip away your need to belong.
Then—and only then—seek the truth.
I fear that this is precisely where much of today’s political discourse has failed. There is no question that innocent Palestinians have suffered terribly during this war. Every civilian death is heartbreaking. Every hungry child should disturb our conscience. Every family caught between war and terror deserves our compassion. Jewish ethics require nothing less. But compassion alone is not justice.
Justice demands context.
Justice demands truth.
Justice demands that we begin the story where it actually began.
On October 7, Hamas carried out the deadliest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust. It murdered children in their homes. It burned entire families alive. It raped women. It kidnapped infants, grandparents, and civilians. It deliberately targeted noncombatants and celebrated these atrocities before the world.
This was not a military operation gone wrong.
It was the intentional glorification of terror.
Nor has Hamas shown concern for the Palestinian people it claims to represent. It has embedded military infrastructure beneath hospitals, schools, mosques, and residential neighborhoods, knowingly placing civilians in harm’s way while using their suffering as a strategic weapon in the court of international opinion.
Ignoring these realities is not compassion.
It is selective moral vision.
At the same time, supporting Israel does not require believing that every decision made by every Israeli government is beyond criticism.
Quite the opposite.
One of Israel’s greatest strengths is that Israelis themselves criticize their government passionately. Hundreds of thousands marched in the streets long before October 7 because they feared judicial reforms threatened Israeli democracy. Since the war began, many Israelis have challenged their government’s humanitarian policies, military decisions, and political leadership.
That is what democracies do.
I share many of those concerns.
There are members of Israel’s current governing coalition whose rhetoric I find deeply disturbing. There are policies with which I strongly disagree. I hope future Israeli elections produce leaders who better embody both Israel’s democratic ideals and Judaism’s moral vision.
Supporting Israel does not mean supporting every Israeli government.
Just as loving America has never required supporting every American president.
That distinction once seemed obvious.
Today it seems increasingly forgotten.
Within parts of the Democratic Party, military aid to Israel has become a political bargaining chip.
I believe that is a profound mistake.
Military aid is not an endorsement of every Israeli policy.
It is a declaration that America stands with an ally whose enemies openly seek its destruction.
It tells Iran, Hezbollah, Hamas, and every terrorist organization that the United States will not abandon the region’s only democracy to those who deny its right to exist.
To weaken that commitment is not simply to pressure an Israeli government.
It is to send a message to Israel’s enemies that American support is conditional, uncertain, and perhaps temporary.
History teaches us that our allies notice when we hesitate.
So do our enemies.
One can insist that Israel conduct military operations according to the highest ethical standards.
One can demand accountability when mistakes are made.
One can advocate vigorously for increased humanitarian aid and for renewed efforts toward peace.
None of these positions are inconsistent with unwavering military support.
In fact, they are entirely consistent with one another.
Complexity has always been the hallmark of mature moral thinking.
Unfortunately, complexity has become unwelcome.
Social media rewards outrage.
Politics rewards certainty.
Activism rewards ideological purity.
The Torah rewards none of these.
Instead, Moses commands:
“Do not recognize faces in judgment.”
Do not decide who is right because they are fashionable.
Do not decide who is wrong because they are unpopular.
Do not confuse compassion with partiality.
Do not allow ideology to replace discernment.
The Sfat Emet pushes us even further.
He reminds us that every act of judgment begins with an act of humility.
Can I set aside my own assumptions?
Can I resist the temptation to see only what confirms my worldview?
Can I seek truth even when it challenges my politics?
Those are difficult questions.
They are also profoundly Jewish questions.
As a lifelong Democrat, I remain committed to justice, equality, compassion, and democracy.
Those values have not changed.
But justice without truth is not justice.
Compassion without context is not compassion.
And moral clarity is impossible if we refuse to acknowledge uncomfortable facts.
I do not want to leave my party.
I want my party to rediscover itself.
I want it to remember that support for Israel has never been about endorsing one prime minister or one coalition government. It has always been about standing with a democratic ally whose existence has been challenged since the day it declared independence.
Criticize Israeli policies.
Debate military strategy.
Advocate for humanitarian relief.
Work toward a future in which Israelis and Palestinians alike can live in peace and security.
But never make Israel’s right to defend itself—or America’s commitment to its security—a partisan bargaining chip.
Moses understood that justice is not determined by public opinion.
The Sfat Emet reminds us that justice begins only when we silence our own prejudices.
And perhaps that is the lesson America needs most today.
Not to choose between compassion and security.
Not to choose between Israelis and Palestinians.
But to choose truth over ideology.
Because when we forget that “judgment belongs to God,” we begin to judge according to ourselves.
And that is when justice is most easily lost.
Source
Sefat Emet, Devarim, Year 5641 (1881), commentary on Deuteronomy 1:17, beginning with the words “כי המשפט לאלהים הוא.” (Standard Warsaw edition of Sefat Emet on the Torah.)
