David Segal GWU Hillel Wednesday December 1

David Segal
GWU Hillel
Wednesday December 1, 2004

Jewish Roots of Social Justice

The Question: What is Jewish about social justice?

Normally, in a forum like this – where the question is “What is Jewish about social justice” – I’d probably expect to hear about the prophetic tradition, speaking truth to power, and our divine mandate to repair the world. Such talks, by luminaries of the world of Jewish social justice, have moved me and inspired my work in social justice on many occasions.

But that’s not quite what I’m going to talk about – not out of some grand design or because I don’t think it’s a powerful message but simply because I think I’ll be better at approaching the question in a different way.

***

To better understand what’s Jewish about social justice, I think we should first take a look at what’s Jewish about justice. I realize that exploring such a broad theme will probably raise more questions than it answers, but that’s what we’re here for anyway, right?

When we think about “Old Testament Justice” we often think harsh and retributive, at times unforgiving and wrathful. Much of that negative conception might come from a Christian re-reading of the Hebrew Bible, in which the New Testament God of Love is juxtaposed against an Old Testament God of Wrath. A more useful and appropriate concept for our discussion might be “Hebrew Bible Justice,” which – even when expressed as wrath – is at its core about people getting what they deserve.

In some sense, it is an aspect of God that can seem incompatible with God’s Mercy. How God can be All-Merciful and All-Just is a theological conundrum I don’t want to get into right now, but I do want to question, for a moment, why we call it “social justice” and not “social mercy.” I think it has to do with our core belief that the work we do to improve society – let’s call it part of tikkun olam – is done not out of a sense of mercy but out of a sense of duty to do what is right. In the Jewish ethical framework, for example, you stop and help a homeless person on the street not because of an outpouring of pity and sympathy for them but because it is the right thing to do and you have a responsibility to do it. Social justice, then, is the pursuit of an absolute bottom line of social well-being, anything below which would be an affront to justice, and to our consciences.

***

So much for the overarching question of Justice, which I’m happy to come back to in the discussion. To understand in a deeper way what exactly is Jewish about social justice, I want to present two categories that will help direct our thinking:

1. First, the sublime and epic;
2. Second, the mundane and everyday.

I want to suggest that both of these categories are essential to the Jewish conception of social justice. We’re pretty good at thinking and talking and even organizing around the first category in Jewish terms, but I think we’re not so comfortable infusing the second category with a sense of Jewishness. This is a tragedy, because there is holiness in both and, if we are to take our tradition seriously, there is a mandate for engagement in both categories – and maybe even a stronger mandate in the realm of the mundane and everyday (or at least a more overlooked mandate).

There are two stories that illustrate very well the relationship between the epic and the everyday, and what both categories have to do with social action: the Exodus, and the Civil Rights Movement (and it’s no accident, of course, that Civil Rights leaders cast their movement as a modern-day Exodus).

1. The Exodus

The narrative of the Exodus depicts a journey of epic proportions, and an awesome and overwhelming display of the inexorable power of God’s Justice. In a moment of great moral leadership, Moses demands of Pharaoh, “Let my people go!” God, with Moses as messenger, rescues the Israelites from Egyptian bondage by overpowering the Egyptians with pestilence, plague, and the parting of the sea. Then at Sinai, God’s very presence descends to reveal the Torah to Moses and the Israelites. The grand message of it all? That every generation is to think of themselves as having been slaves in Egypt, and to work against all the pharaohs of our world to free all who are oppressed. This is heavy stuff.

As awe-inspiring as the epic of the Exodus and the divine immediacy of Sinai are, there is another side to the story. In the Exodus narrative, after several days of wandering in the desert, the Israelites begin to complain to Moses about not having any water to drink. Here I turn to the words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel from a 1964 speech before the New York Conference on Race and Religion:

This episode seems shocking. What a comedown! Only three days earlier they had reached the highest peak of prophetic and spiritual exaltation, and now they complain about such a prosaic and unspiritual item as water…

In light of the earlier Exodus narrative, this episode is indeed shocking, and even laughable. This is not the sweeping biblical drama that moves and inspires us! This is so petty!

Only not exactly – it is dangerous to dismiss this kind of request for adequate drinking water as petty, mundane, or any less integral to the narrative. If we look at the Civil Rights Movement of the mid-20^th Century, we will start to see why.

2. Civil Rights Movement

During the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, the spirit of the Civil Rights Movement was highly charged and inspired, worthy of the epic proportions of the beloved community it envisioned. A miraculous showing at the march on Washington, along with other marches throughout the South, and the countless men and women of all races who suffered beatings and arrest to advance freedom and justice galvanized the nation. These high spirits culminated in the passage of the Civil Rights Act and Voting Rights Act of ’64 and ’65 – hailed by many as the Promised Land for African Americans.

But then, it turned out that, quoting Heschel again, “Black Americans want adequate education, decent housing, proper employment. How ordinary, how unpoetic, how annoying!” The irony in Heschel’s words should prod us out of our complacent indifference to everyday concerns.

In both stories, it is difficult to reconcile symbolic and spiritual achievements with very real human needs on the ground. But in Judaism, no lack of poetry or miraculous journey is sufficient for disregarding such needs. No piece of the human experience is too trivial for God’s concern. I quote Heschel once more:

Indeed, God Himself is described as reflecting over the plight of man rather than as contemplating eternal ideas…. In the prophet’s message, nothing that has bearing upon good or evil is small or trite in the eyes of God.
The teaching of Judaism is the theology of the common deed. The Bible insists that God is concerned with everydayness, with the trivialities of life. The great challenge does not lie in organizing solemn demonstrations, but in how we manage the commonplace.

The Prophets are clear on this too. They exclaim and declaim to turn us back to our tradition; they are not out to change our tradition as much as to change us. To be sure, they inspire us to “do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God” – but they also berate us for fasting in vain rather than feeding the hungry; they exhort us to clothe the naked and care for the widow and orphan; they decry corruption and indifference in our rulers and ourselves. Those are the nuts and bolts of social justice. Our response to the prophetic call is incomplete unless we embrace the mundane together with the sublime. And in another great irony of our tradition, it is in this commitment to the nuts and bolts of social justice that we may actually find spiritual transcendence, a real experience of our living partnership with the divine.

I think that’s where we in the social justice community do most of our work – in managing the commonplace. To ensure adequate housing, public education, health care, and available jobs that pay a living wage – these are everyday needs but infused with the utmost moral gravity by divine mandate. All the moreso for a fair and just criminal justice system, renewable and clean energy, a responsible foreign policy and use of military action, and the protection of human rights around the world.

There are times for rallies, as flashpoints along the path of the gradual, gritty, incremental work of social betterment. And we need a broad, sweeping prophetic vision and voice – for these will sustain our spirit in the work of social justice – but to truly live out our divine mandate, we also need effective plans and tireless labor dedicated to improving the conditions of everyday life.