I am Jewish. I am Argentine. I am a rabbi. I live in the United States. I am also a political scientist. And I believe that order matters—not unlike the famous anecdote of Kissinger and Golda Meir about Hebrew being read from right to left. Long ago I learned that when I speak, I must first say from where I speak.
I have lived in the United States for just over four years, and I feel deeply blessed. My congregants have never heard me preach partisan politics—naming names—from the bimah, and I intend to keep it that way. Today is no exception. What I will say, however, is this: I am privileged to serve a community of passionate, committed, Zionist Jews—both Democrats and Republicans. And I firmly reject the claim that “you cannot be Jewish and Republican” or “you cannot be Jewish and Democrat.” Of course you can. Each Jew, guided by their own convictions, priorities, and interpretation of Jewish values, can find a political home in either of the two major parties that have shaped American life for nearly two centuries.
Both parties, at their origins, embodied values that resonate deeply with Jewish ethics. The Democratic Party (1828) championed broader participation in democratic life. The Republican Party (1854) was founded on the abolition of slavery. These are not trivial alignments; they echo core Jewish commitments to dignity, justice, and human freedom. But parties are not static. They evolve. They reflect the times, their leaders, and their voters.
History teaches us that neither party holds a monopoly on moral clarity—or moral failure—when it comes to Jews and Israel. There were Democratic presidents whose attitudes toward Jews were, at best, problematic—Woodrow Wilson and Franklin D. Roosevelt among them—as well as Republicans like Richard Nixon. There were also champions: Democrats like Harry Truman, and Republicans like Ronald Reagan.
The same complexity exists regarding Israel. Some Democrats—Lyndon Johnson and Bill Clinton—were deeply supportive, as were Republicans like Reagan and George W. Bush. Others, from both parties, had strained or critical relationships with Israeli governments—Jimmy Carter and Barack Obama among Democrats; Eisenhower and George H. W. Bush among Republicans.
American Jews represent about 2.5% of the population. Israel is a small country, the size of New Jersey, thousands of miles away. As a minority—one that has been extraordinarily blessed in the United States and that has contributed immensely to its success—we naturally hope that our concerns will remain a priority: combating antisemitism, supporting Jewish life, and defending Israel’s legitimacy. And yet, we must be honest: we cannot expect our needs to always align perfectly with the complex decisions of national leadership.
There must be Jewish Democrats and Jewish Republicans. Not despite their differences—but because of them. Today, troubling voices are rising in both political camps. Within Democratic circles, figures like Ilhan Omar have made statements widely criticized as antisemitic. More recently, figures such as Rashida Tlaib and Cori Bush have advanced rhetoric or positions that many Jews experience as hostile to Israel or dismissive of Jewish concerns.
On the Republican side, antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiment also persist. Public figures like Dan Bilzerian—a recent political aspirant in Florida—have trafficked in overtly antisemitic and anti-Zionist discourse. Additionally, individuals like Nick Fuentes, a prominent voice in certain right-wing circles, and moments involving figures such as Marjorie Taylor Greene (whose past comments invoked antisemitic tropes), remind us that this problem is not confined to one side of the aisle.
In progressive (“woke”) spaces that Democrats seek to engage, criticism of Israel can cross from legitimate policy debate into delegitimization. In segments of the MAGA movement that Republicans mobilize, an “America First” ideology can at times drift toward isolationism or even hostility toward longstanding alliances—including Israel.
This is precisely why we need Jews actively engaged in both parties—not attacking one another, but shaping their respective political homes from within. We need Jews who vote, who speak, who influence—who help ensure that future leaders continue to see Israel as both a moral and strategic ally, and who defend the dignity and security of Jewish communities in America. Criticism of Israel and antisemitism are not the exclusive property of Democrats or Republicans. Nor is support for Israel or Jewish life.
For over 2,000 years, Jews have lived as a minority across the diaspora. America is no exception. And already in Pirkei Avot, our sages debated how to relate to power. Rabban Gamliel warned: “Be cautious with the authorities, for they befriend a person only for their own needs. They appear as friends when it benefits them, but they do not stand by a person in times of distress.” (Avot 2:3) Politics is transactional. Leaders seek our votes—but may not always stand by us. Yet Rabbi Chanina, the Deputy High Priest, taught: “Pray for the welfare of the government, for if not for its fear, people would swallow one another alive.” (Avot 3:2). We must support the system itself—regardless of who is in power—because without it, society collapses into chaos.
For much of American history, Jews overwhelmingly identified as Democrats. Today, that is changing. The growth of Orthodoxy, debates over “traditional values,” and shifting rhetoric on Israel—particularly among Republican leadership—are reshaping the landscape.
But what concerns me most is not how Jews vote—it is how Jews speak to one another. I have heard Democratic Jews say of Republican Jews: “How can you support someone whose policies contradict everything Jewish values stand for?” And I have heard Republican Jews say of Democratic Jews: “How can you keep voting for people who undermine Israel? You must hate yourselves.” This must stop.
Pirkei Avot teaches us to judge others favorably. To recognize complexity. To understand that human beings—especially thoughtful, committed Jews—make decisions based on a hierarchy of values that can shift over time. No one votes for a candidate because they agree with everything they say or do. We vote because, at a given moment, certain issues speak more urgently to our conscience, our identity, or our vision of the future. So let us stop insulting one another. Let us stop assuming ignorance or bad faith.
Let us remain proudly Jewish and proudly Zionist—Democrats and Republicans alike. Let us root our political choices in Jewish thought and practice, without denigrating those who reach different conclusions. And let us remember the timeless teaching: “In a place where there are no human beings, strive to be a human being.” (Avot 2:5) That, perhaps, is the most urgent political and Jewish task before us today.
