The Ballots Are Counted. The Covenant Remains.

A Jewish Community Must Be Bigger Than a Vote

A few days ago, I hesitated before walking over to greet someone I have known for years.

We have attended community events together, worked on Jewish causes together, and worried about many of the same issues affecting Jewish life. Yet for a fleeting moment, I wondered whether the conversation might be uncomfortable.

We voted differently.

The hesitation lasted only a second, but it bothered me long afterward. Not because of politics. Because no election should make one Jew wonder whether another Jew still belongs at the same table.

I voted for El-Sayed. Many people I know in Detroit’s Jewish community supported Rogers. We made different choices, each according to our own judgment, experiences, and conscience. I respect the right of every person to make that decision.

What concerns me is what happens when the voting ends.

I have heard the frustration, the criticism, and the continuing arguments about the outcome. Criticizing an elected official is part of democracy. Questioning policies, challenging statements, and demanding accountability are legitimate responsibilities of citizenship. I will exercise those rights myself.

But something different happens when political disagreement becomes a judgment about the people who voted differently. When we assume we understand someone’s character, values, or motives simply by knowing which candidate received their vote, we have crossed an important line.

We can hold a politician accountable without holding a fellow Jew responsible for our disappointment.

Our Jewish tradition has never required unanimity. In fact, disagreement is woven into our history. Abraham challenged God. Moses questioned and confronted authority. The prophets challenged kings. The rabbis preserved arguments across generations, often without resolving them.

Consider Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai. Their disagreements were not trivial. They concerned Jewish law and how people should live. Yet the Talmud records a remarkable declaration: “Both these and those are the words of the living God” (Eruvin 13b).

What followed is even more relevant to us.

The Talmud explains that the law generally followed Beit Hillel because its members were gracious and patient. They presented the arguments of Beit Shammai fairly, sometimes even placing the opposing position before their own.

Think about that. Their achievement was not simply that they disagreed. It was that they took the time to understand and accurately represent the position of those with whom they disagreed. Their intellectual humility did not weaken their convictions. It strengthened their standing.

When did we become so uncomfortable with doing the same?

The Torah gives us another obligation. Genesis teaches that every human being is created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). Leviticus tells us not to harbor hatred toward our fellow and commands us to love our neighbor as ourselves (Leviticus 19:17–18).

These teachings do not come with an exception for election years. They do not say that another person’s dignity depends on whether we approve of that person’s political judgment.

A ballot tells us how someone voted. It does not tell us everything about who that person is.

The person whose vote disappointed you may be the same person who visits the sick, teaches children, supports a synagogue, helps a family in need, or sits beside you at a funeral. Those commitments do not disappear inside a voting booth.

There is a reason the rabbis’ warning about sinat chinam, baseless hatred, continues to occupy such an important place in Jewish memory. In Yoma 9b, the rabbis teach that the Second Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred, even though the people were engaged in Torah, mitzvot, and acts of kindness.

It is a sobering teaching. A community can maintain its institutions, perform good deeds, and observe its traditions while allowing its relationships to deteriorate. We should not assume that doing Jewish things is enough if we forget how to treat one another.

The stakes in Detroit are larger than this election. Our community includes Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, and unaffiliated Jews, Democrats, Republicans, and independents. We have different views about Israel, American politics, religious practice, and the future of Jewish life. We will continue to disagree. That is not a failure.

But we share synagogues, schools, charitable organizations, family celebrations, and responsibilities to the next generation. We need one another. The work of sustaining Jewish life cannot be left to whichever political side happens to prevail.

I am not asking anyone to change a vote, abandon a concern, or remain silent about an elected official. I am asking something more basic: do not let political disagreement become a reason to withdraw friendship, withhold respect, or question another Jew’s place in our community.

The next time you encounter someone who voted differently, start a conversation. Ask why that person reached a different conclusion. Listen before responding. You may still disagree when you leave. That is perfectly acceptable. The conversation itself is a form of respect.

Our children and grandchildren are watching. They are learning from us whether Jewish community means belonging only among people who think alike, or whether it means accepting a responsibility to one another even when we disagree.

The Psalmist writes, “How good and pleasant it is when brothers and sisters dwell together” (Psalm 133:1). It is worth noticing what the verse asks of us. It does not say that we must think alike. It asks us to dwell together.

I voted for El-Sayed. Others voted for Rogers. We may never agree about that election. But our responsibility to one another did not end when the polls closed.

Candidates change. Elections pass. Political arguments eventually become part of history. The relationships we preserve, the respect we show, and the community we leave behind are what endure.

The Jewish people were never united by agreement. We were united by covenant. Elections last a day. Our covenant must last generations.