Effective Altruism in Jewish Thought

By Rabbi Dr Glenn Y. Bezalel, for the Jewish Ethics Project

Glenn Y. Bezalel is Deputy Head (Academic) at City of London School, where he teaches Religion & Philosophy. A graduate of Yeshivot Kerem B’Yavneh and Har Etzion (Gush), he holds Semicha from Eretz Hemdah. He also has a PhD in conspiracy theories from the University of Cambridge, and is the author of Teaching Classroom Controversies, published by Routledge, as well as numerous articles on education, philosophy, and theology.

Abstract

Effective Altruism (EA) is a highly impactful philanthropic movement inspired by Peter Singer’s argument that we are morally obligated to prevent suffering when we can do so at little comparable cost. Despite its global influence, especially with the young and highly educated, there has been surprisingly little analysis of EA within Jewish literature. In taking up Singer’s foundational “drowning child” thought experiment, this article argues that EA is best understood in Judaism primarily within Hilkhot Piku’aḥ Nefesh (Laws of Saving a Life) and, through this lens, finds that EA’s core universalist ideas largely align with Halakha (Jewish Law), ultimately overcoming apparent differences. Nevertheless, at the secondary level of Hilkhot Tzedaka (Laws of Charity), EA’s universalism does diverge with more particularist Torah values, such as prioritisation on giving, highlighting key limitations in this sphere. The upshot is a call to reexamine our halakhic obligations in light of the ethical opportunities and challenges that EA affords.

What is Effective Altruism?

In November 1971, Peter Singer wrote in a relatively obscure philosophy journal a short article called ‘Famine, Affluence and Morality’ that went on to have a huge impact on the world of philanthropy, most notably through the charity work of billionaires like Bill Gates and Melinda Gates. Indeed, Leif Wenar (2024), a philosophy professor at Stanford, called Singer’s essay “the most famous argument in modern philosophy,” with it giving birth to a movement known as Effective Altruism (EA).[1] It is noteworthy that the young and highly educated are especially attracted to EA, with remarkable stories showing its impact – for better or for worse.[2] Nevertheless, despite the global analysis and commentary regarding EA in academia and the media, surprisingly little attention has been paid in the halakhic world.[3] This article analyses EA within the framework of Jewish thought and considers whether the principles of EA align with Torah values and practice.[4]

Singer’s underlying ethical principle is as follows: “if it is in our power to prevent something bad from happening, without thereby sacrificing anything of comparable moral importance, we ought, morally, to do it” (2016: 5-6). To illustrate his argument, Singer offers an uncontroversial yet deceptive thought experiment, told in just a couple of sentences, which will bring out radical and far-reaching claims not just about our charitable giving but how we live our lives:

If I am walking past a shallow pond and see a child drowning in it, I ought to wade in and pull the child out. This will mean getting my clothes muddy, but this is insignificant, while the death of the child would presumably be a very bad thing. (Ibid.: 6-7.)

Nearly everyone agrees that it would be unconscionable to not save the child. (And we would no doubt have deep misgivings about those who admit that they wouldn’t!) It is to be hoped that we wouldn’t think twice about ruining our expensive suit because a few hundred dollars can’t possibly compare to the life of a child.

And yet, just as we congratulate ourselves on our humanity, Singer then points out that millions of children die from preventable, poverty-related diseases each year.[5] In spite of this fact, many of us go on to spend money on luxury items and other things we simply don’t need, when the opportunity cost of buying such goods is saving many a child’s life. Whilst I wouldn’t hesitate jumping into the pond to save the drowning child and so ruin my suit, my buying a new suit in the first place for, say, $500 – when I could have spent $200 for an adequate one – meant that I ended up spending $300 extra on clothing that I didn’t really need. That differential of $300 could have been spent on malaria nets for $7 each to protect some 40 children from the deadly disease.[6]

The ramifications are profound. It is worth spelling out three practical outcomes clearly so that we can see the challenge and opportunity that EA may present for the halakhic community:

1.      ‘Altruism’ means taking seriously the charge – especially in an age of wealth accumulation and material consumption – that we have a moral duty to consider the opportunity cost of spending money on things we don’t need and appreciate that it can be used to alleviate human suffering. Singer provides three levels of giving, recognising that not everyone may be able to live up to what he believes is the ethical ideal:

a.      EA’s idealistic ‘strong’ version: we ought to reduce ourselves to the level of marginal utility, i.e. give away our wealth until we are nearly as poor as the people we are helping

b.     EA’s concessionary ‘moderate’ version: we ought to forego luxury items to prevent bad occurrences

c.      EA’s sustainable ‘realistic’ version: we ought to give ten per cent of our income to the most effective charities.[7]

2.      ‘Effective’ altruism means working out what is the most good each of us can do. This requires evidencing which charities are most effective in terms of reducing human suffering, e.g. why donate $40,000 to supply one person in the United States with a guide dog, when the cost of preventing someone from going blind because of trachoma costs $20-$100? The same amount of money to help one person with a guide dog could have been used to prevent between four hundred and two thousand cases of blindness in developing countries (Singer 2015: 110-111). However, to be truly effective means thinking hard more broadly about our lifestyle choices. Beyond considering the opportunity cost of how we spend our money, there are sometimes counter-intuitive claims on how we live our lives. Thus, the EA concept of ‘earning to give’ suggests that rather an EA enthusiast go to work for a top investment bank and donate a significant proportion of their very high earnings to an effective cause than go to work for a charity organisation where their marginal output would be minimal in comparison to another humanitarian worker in the same job (MacAskill 2022b). At the same time, ‘effectiveness’ often means what can be sustained in the long-term: Singer accepts that very few of us are moral saints – especially over a long period – hence the ten per cent figure offered above. And so it is crucial to keep the (albeit demanding) balance to ensure sustainable giving over a lifetime in a realistic way that is appealing to as many of us as possible.[8]

3.      ‘Effective altruism’ means that the “traditional distinction between duty and charity cannot be drawn, or at least, not in the place we normally draw it” (Singer 2016: 14). As Singer (ibid.) himself posits, the upshot of his argument “is that our traditional moral categories are upset.” In alignment with Jewish thought, Singer challenges the sharp distinction in Western society between charity and obligation that pervades our wider culture. The former is seen as voluntary and therefore giving charity is an act of “generosity”: although we praise the charitable person, those who don’t give are not condemned. As Singer writes:

People do not feel in any way ashamed or guilty about spending money on new clothes or a new car instead of giving it to famine relief. (Indeed, the alternative does not occur to them.) This way of looking at the matter cannot be justified. When we buy new clothes not to keep ourselves warm but to look "well-dressed" we are not providing for any important need. We would not be sacrificing anything significant if we were to continue to wear our old clothes and give the money to famine relief. By doing so, we would be preventing another person from starving. It follows from what I have said earlier that we ought to give money away, rather than spend it on clothes which we do not need to keep us warm. To do so is not charitable, or generous. Nor is it the kind of act which philosophers and theologians have called ‘supererogatory’—an act which it would be good to do, but not wrong not to do. On the contrary, we ought to give the money away, and it is wrong not to do so.

(Ibid.: 14-15)

Whilst this may be a revolutionary challenge for Western thinking, EA’s reframing of charity as a moral duty coheres with tzedaka as Halakha, not simply ‘good mussar’, i.e. a good thing to do. As R. Jonathan Sacks (2003) has noted, tzedaka is the “the untranslatable virtue” as it brings together two seemingly contradictory concepts: charity and justice. If I give someone money they are entitled to, then that is justice; but if they are not entitled, then that is an act of charity. For Sacks, the harmony of tzedaka as justice and charity together arises because of the Jewish theological distinction between possession and ownership: “What we possess,” Sacks writes, “we do not own – we merely hold it in trust for God.” As Tur (Yoreh De’ah 248) writes in his introduction to Hilkhot Tzedaka: “For one must understand that his money is merely a trust to be utilised to fulfil the wishes of the Grantor.”

For many (e.g. Bregman 2025: 152) in secular Western culture, this is the major criticism of Singer’s argument: it requires too much of us. Taken to its strongest logical conclusion, Singer (2016: 28) writes that “we ought to give until we reach the level of marginal utility – that is, the level at which, by giving more, I would cause as much suffering to myself or my dependents as I would relieve by my gift.” Even Singer’s ‘moderate’ form of obligation – that we should prevent bad occurrences unless, to do so, we had to sacrifice something morally significant – would still require “a great change in our way of life is required,” which Singer accepts may still be too demanding for most to uphold. In recent years, he has since recommended a third ‘realistic’ tier of giving for the beinoni, i.e. the middle-class person, to give ten per cent of their earnings. “I think it’s an amount that most middle-class people can comfortably afford,” he says. “It depends on how much people are earning and how happy they are to live modestly.” For Singer this may well be the most “effective” option for most people as this is a lifestyle they can sustain in the long-term (cited in Bearne 2017).

Pikuaḥ Nefesh and Effective Altruism:  Alignment or Divergence?

Let’s now return to Singer’s original thought experiment about the child drowning in a shadow pond, which is a crucial starting point to help us frame EA within the correct halakhic context.[9] In doing so, we can immediately recognise that the locus classicus for pikuaḥ nefesh is tantalisingly similar to Singer’s case. Sanhedrin 73a asks: “From where is it derived that one who sees another drowning in a river, or being dragged away by a wild animal, or being attacked by bandits, is obligated to save him?”

Just as Singer moves us from the supererogatory to the morally obligatory so too does the Gemara make it clear that we are obligated to save the person from a life-threatening situation, such as drowning, but on two separate grounds. First, in terms of the aseh, i.e. positive mitzvah, just as we are obligated to return a lost item to its owner (Deuteronomy 22:2), so too, must we ‘return’ a person’s body and restore their life. Second, we explicitly move into the category of pikuaḥ nefesh through the lo ta’aseh, i.e. prohibition of “lo ta’amod al dam re’eikha – not standing idly by the blood of your neighbour” (Leviticus 19:17). This aspect comes to teach us that a person is obligated to the extent of “even hiring workers, [i.e. experts who can save the person’s life, rather than endangering one’s own life] transgressing the prohibition if he does not do so.” Rashi (s.v. ka mashma lan) spells out that upon seeing another in life-threatening danger one is obligated to consider all means to save them so as not to transgress this prohibition.

Rosh, Sanhedrin 88:2, rules that the person saved must reimburse his rescuer – if he can afford it. Meiri (s.v. mi), based on Rosh, adds that even if the rescued party doesn’t have the means to pay back one is still obligated to spend the necessary funds to save his fellow’s life, “and whoever doesn’t do so, transgresses ‘not standing idly by the blood of your neighbour.’” [10] R. Asher Weiss takes up this analysis and at first glance his approach is in accordance with Singer’s ‘strong’ version:

Rather, the truth of the matter is that one needs to spend all his money in order to save even one life from Israel and to establish a whole world. And were it not for the specific principle of chayekha kodmin, i.e. that your life takes priority, one would have also been obligated to endanger one’s own life. And even halakhically it is the view of some authorities that one should enter into a safek sakanah, i.e. risk to one’s own safety, in order to save one’s fellow, and even losing a limb in order to save another’s life was weighed up by Radbaz III:623, and the main reason for ruling against this was because losing a limb itself could endanger one’s own life. However, with regards to money, then of course one must spend as much as is needed [to save a life], as some of the acharonim, i.e. later authorities, have ruled.

(2014a: 257)

In contrast, R. Yitzchak Zilberstein (cited in Ishun 1995: 315) cites R. Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, his father-in-law, who invokes the principle of “veḥai bahem,” i.e. live by the mitzvot (Bava Metzia 62a), and not impoverish oneself to a state of abject penury which is considered “ke’ein mavet – like death itself,” for one’s own life must take precedence. The debate here thus echoes Singer’s own ‘strong’ vs ‘moderate’ stances on saving lives as discussed above: whilst R. Weiss opts for the ‘strong’ version of EA, R. Elyashiv rules for the ‘moderate’ version. Either way, EA’s primary concern for the life you can save seems very much in line with Hilkhot Pikuaḥ Nefesh.

At the same time, we must explore three serious halakhic challenges to the principles of EA. First, what is one’s obligation if others can step in and share the burden, i.e. “efshar la’asotah al-yedei aḥerim”? Second, does Torah accept Singer’s view that it is irrelevant where the dying child is or is the obligation limited to when the potential victim is “lefanav,” i.e. in one’s proximity? Third, does Halakha recognise EA’s unapologetic universalism when it comes to saving lives?

i.        Efshar la’asota within Pikuaḥ Nefesh

Despite R. Weiss’s strong stance on pikuaḥ nefesh, he goes on to conclude with a consideration of one’s duty when others are able to contribute to the cause:

In conclusion, it seems that it is clear in my humble opinion that a person is obligated to spend all his money to save one Jewish life. However, this is only in an extreme case where he alone can help for it is clear and simple that a person is not obligated to sell his own home and all he has in order to save an unwell person and a similar case [of someone in a life threatening situation] if others are present, for the mitzvot of the Torah are also incumbent upon them, and on this matter they said in Nedarim 65b: “All who become poor do not fall upon me. What is placed upon me to provide for him together with everyone else, I will provide to him.” See there. And this is simple.

(2014a: 257)

Yet it doesn’t seem so “simple” to this author. R. Weiss moves deftly from the category of pikuaḥ nefesh to that of tzedaka, citing Nedarim 65b which relates to a poor person in the context of communal charitable funds.[11] Although the principle of efshar la’asota unquestionably applies in the latter case of relieving poverty, this is difficult to square in matters of pikuaḥ nefesh. Rather, the multi-faceted principle of efshar la’asotah itself elegantly interacts wholly differently with regard to pikuaḥ nefesh – where it cannot excuse one’s inaction, precisely in contrast with issurim, i.e. prohibitions, where it limits one’s liability.[12] For the former, Yoma 84b relates this authoritative case:

One heats water for an ill person on Shabbat, whether to give him to drink or to wash him, since it might help him recover… And these acts should not be performed by gentiles or Samaritans but should be done by the leaders of the Jewish people, i.e., their scholars, who know how to act properly.

Thus, in this case, despite the fact that one can call on “gentiles or Samaritans” to help the ill person recover, and so limit one’s liability on Shabbat, the Gemara rules that such a consideration cannot operate as a constraint in the face of saving a life. Whoever can act, must act immediately. As Tosafot (s.v. ela b’gdolei Yisrael) put it: “And even where one may [carry out the act] through a gentile, it is a mitzvah for a Jew [to act directly] in case the gentile is tardy and won’t carry it out, causing danger [for the patient].” To be sure, Rema (Shulḥan Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥaim 328:12) cites Ra’avan that one may rely on a gentile when there is no delay. Nevertheless, where relying on others will cause a delay in action, all authorities agree that one’s responsibility is to act immediately. We simply cannot rely on others who may well delay or not live up to expectation, thus putting another’s life at risk. As R. Tatz (2025) puts it, “where others do not step up, there are no real ‘others’ and so of course one is obliged to help”. One would only be exempt when others are indeed fulfilling their obligations, which is sadly still not the case in terms of global need as millions of people continue to die each year from poverty-related diseases.

The Gemara continues:

One engages in saving a life on Shabbat, and one who is vigilant to do so is praiseworthy. And one need not take permission from a court but hurries to act on his own. How so? If one sees a child who fell into the sea, he spreads a fisherman’s net and raises him from the water. And one who is vigilant and acts quickly is praiseworthy, and one need not seek permission from a court, although in doing so he catches fish in the net as well. Similarly, if one sees a child fall into a pit and the child cannot get out, he digs part of the ground out around the edge of the pit to create a makeshift step and raises him out. And one who is vigilant and acts quickly is praiseworthy, and one need not seek permission from a court, although in doing so he fashions a step. Similarly, if one sees that a door is locked before a child and the child is scared and crying, he breaks the door and takes the child out. And one who is vigilant and acts quickly is praiseworthy, and one need not seek permission from a court, although he intends to break it into boards to be used later. Similarly, one may extinguish a fire by placing a barrier of metal or clay vessels filled with water in front of it on Shabbat when life is endangered. And one who is vigilant and acts quickly is praiseworthy, and one need not seek permission from a court, although he leaves the coals, which can be used for cooking after Shabbat.

(Yoma 84b)

Note that while each succeeding case moves further away from a direct threat to life, the ruling remains the same: one acts quickly and without seeking permission.[13]Shulḥan Arukh, Oraḥ Ḥaim 328:2, rules accordingly, pulling no punches: “For someone who has a dangerous illness, it is a commandment to break Shabbat for him. One who hurries to do this is praised. One who asks about this is a murderer.” It is thus clear that for issues of pikuaḥ nefesh, the concept of efshar la’asotah is irrelevant: there can be no reason to hesitate or delegate.

ii.      Lefanav: Presence or Knowledge?

Nevertheless, in the cases cited above in Yoma 84b, there is a common thread that the obligation to act falls upon the person that “sees” the child in danger, i.e. that the person in need is lefanav – before him. Meanwhile, in justifying the universal obligatory nature of EA, Singer is unapologetic about lefanav not being a relevant factor:

19,000 children [die] every day. Does it really matter that we're not walking past them in the street? Does it really matter that they're far away? I don't think it does make a morally relevant difference. The fact that they're not right in front of us, the fact, of course, that they're of a different nationality or race, none of that seems morally relevant to me. What is really important is, can we reduce that death toll? Can we save some of those 19,000 children dying every day?

(2013)

Decisively, within the realm of pikuaḥ nefesh, the principle of lefanav is again irrelevant: both in terms of logic as well as our halakhic sources. Simply put, a major source for this halakhic category is the sadly still live issue of pidyon shvuyim – redeeming captives. As Rambam rules:

The redemption of captives receives priority over sustaining the poor and providing them with clothing. [Indeed,] there is no greater mitzvah than the redemption of captives. For a captive is among those who are hungry, thirsty, and unclothed and he is in mortal peril. If someone pays no attention to his redemption, he violates the negative commandments: “Do not harden your heart or close your hand” (Deuteronomy 15:7), “Do not stand by when the blood of your neighbour is in danger” (Leviticus 19:16), and “He shall not oppress him with exhausting work in your presence” (ibid. 25:53). And he has negated the observance of the positive commandments: “You shall certainly open up your hand to him” (Deuteronomy 15:8 , “And your brother shall live with you” (ibid. 19:18), “Love your neighbour as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18), “Save those who are taken for death” (Proverbs 24:11), and many other decrees of this nature. There is no mitzvah as great as the redemption of captives.

(Hilkhot Matnot Aniyim 8:10)

By definition, captives are not lefanav. For Rambam, it is the mere awareness combined with the capacity to help that enforces the obligation of to “not stand by when the blood of your neighbour is in danger.” More broadly, Rambam provides no limitation of physical proximity for the general principle of saving another’s life in Hilkhot Rotzeaḥu’Shmirat Nefesh 1:14: “Whenever a person can save another person's life, but he fails to do so, he transgresses a negative commandment, as Leviticus 19:16 states: ‘Do not stand idly by while your brother's blood is at stake.’”[14] This is echoed by Minḥat Ḥinukh 237 who rules that where one has the ability to save another but refrains from doing so transgresses “lo ta’amod al dam re’eikha.” Again, no mention is made of proximity.[15]

Similarly, we can see that lefanav had no bearing in the following historic case study. In 1932, R. Yisrael Meir Kagan (better known as Ḥafetz Ḥaim) and R. Ḥaim Ozer Grodzinski were moved to make the following appeal to British Jewry to save Jewish lives in Soviet Russia, describing them as “actually starving.” Just as they note that “the economic position of the whole world is a difficult one, this does not release us from our duty to be a brother to the afflicted in time of distress,” so too do they rule that it is “the bounden duty of every Jewish congregation in Britain to contribute all that they can” for this cause of pikuaḥ nefesh. Just as British Jewry is now bound by being made aware of the tragic circumstances of Russian Jewry, so too the community cannot relieve itself of their obligation based on efshar la’asota. Certainly, one potentially extenuating circumstance, all else being equal, would have been a conflicting demand on saving “actually starving” Jews in the UK due to the principle of “ein ma’avirin al hamitzvot,” i.e. that one may not bypass a mitzvah (Yoma 33a, Pesachim 64b), and so where there is comparable pikuaḥ nefesh need one may not ignore one’s obligations closer to home (Tatz 2023). However, that was not the case then and certainly not the case now in any Western Jewish communities. Rather, the language of the notice in the name of the two halakhic authorities arguably mirrors Singer’s ‘moderate’ version of EA, saying that despite the economic woes of Jews in Britain – at a time of global financial crisis – they were still obligated to save the lives of their brethren due to the obligation of pikuaḥ nefesh, with an implicit expectation to forego luxury items as “[e]veryone who has the slightest opportunity of participating in this great work of mercy must on no account refrain.”

Figure 1: Appeal to British Jewry to save “actually starving” Russian Jews in 1932.

This approach is supported in Ḥafetz Ḥaim’s own Ahavat Ḥessed 20:2 where in his analysis on the rabbinic decree in 140s CE limiting charitable giving to twenty per cent of one’s wealth (known as Takanot Usha) within the context of pikuaḥ nefesh, he states:

Where one wishes to give more than a fifth [for charitable causes] then one may do so, and this is considered a pious attribute. Yet it seems to me that this is for a charitable cause that doesn’t relate to actual pikuaḥ nefesh. But where the cause actually saves lives, e.g. where the captive is about to die or where his hunger is life-threatening, then the one-fifth limitation doesn’t apply. For they (Bava Metzia 60b) only said ‘your life takes precedence over your friend’s life’ but we don’t find anywhere the claim that your wealth should take precedence over your friend’s life.

Ḥafetz Ḥaim’s ruling that a person’s wealth cannot take precedence over another’s life is akin to Singer’s ‘moderate’ version of giving: we ought to forego luxury items for pikuaḥ nefesh. To be sure, R. Yishmael HaCohen specified in Zera-Emet 2:51 that even though one would need to give up the valuables in one’s home to save a life, one wouldn’t be required to actually sell one’s home to avoid transgressing “lo ta’amod al dam re’eikha.” As R. Shomo Ishun (1995: 317) concludes: “it would seem that one’s minimal needs do take priority over the life of another.”

We can go further. In the talmudic case of “ma’ayan shel bnei ha’ir,” a spring that originates in one town and flows through another, Nedarim 80b rules as follow:

In the case of a spring belonging to the residents of a city, if the water was needed for their own lives, i.e., the city’s residents required the spring for drinking water, and it was also needed for the lives of others, their own lives take precedence over the lives of others. Likewise, if the water was needed for their own animals and also for the animals of others, their own animals take precedence over the animals of others. And if the water was needed for their own laundry and also for the laundry of others, their own laundry takes precedence over the laundry of others. However, if the spring water was needed for the lives of others and their own laundry, the lives of others take precedence over their own laundry. R. Yosei disagrees and says: Even their own laundry takes precedence over the lives of others.

Again, the narrow debate between Ḥazal and R. Yosei are framed within Singer’s ‘strong’ vs ‘moderate’ versions of EA. Ḥazal prioritise the lives of others even over essential necessities of laundering clothing (which has its own health implications) and so lean towards the view that we ought to reduce ourselves to the level of marginal utility in order to save the lives of others. In contrast, R. Yosei felt that the dangerous consequences of foregoing the essential water to save others would put the town itself in danger.[16] Thus, for R. Yosei, luxuries should be given up to prevent the deaths of others, but necessities such as water for laundry can be legitimately claimed. Either way, and as Ḥafetz Ḥaim ruled, there is simply no view that accepts prioritising luxury items over saving the lives of others.

iii.   Pikuaḥ Nefesh: Particular or Universal?

Thankfully, in just under 100 years, such notices about our Jewish brethren “actually starving” is a world away. In more universal terms though, despite the unparalleled economic growth of the last seventy-five years or so, millions of people remain in abject poverty in many parts of the world. To be clear, in the 40 minutes or so that it takes you to read this article, some 450 children will have died from poverty-related disease.[17] Quite simply, therefore, the question before us is: what are our obligations towards these non-Jewish children at a time when no member of Am Yisrael is suffering in a comparable manner?

It must be noted that for many, there are historical and hashkafic barriers that intuitively prevent our move from the particular towards the universal. As R. Aharon Lichtenstein observed, the considerations in this article are necessarily new in our globalised age:

The live option herein presented [with regard to an outward-looking focus in charitable giving] would probably not even have occurred to insular Jewish communities in Poland or Morocco. On the one hand, they lacked the means to expand their philanthropic activity significantly, and, given their relatively limited interaction with the broader world, were also generally bereft of the impulse to do so. On the other hand, inasmuch as the general welfare state within which post-Emancipation Jewry could find its niche had yet to assume part of the burden of supporting Jewish individuals and institutions, the obligation of family and indigenous kehillah to minister to our own was more keenly felt.

(2010: 213)

Nevertheless, a post-Holocaust world of relative affluence and civil liberties for global Jewry must stand against generations of communal poverty combined with pervading antisemitism. That long-standing reality of anti-Jewish hatred unquestionably casts a long shadow over the Jewish sense of universal responsibility. On the one hand, the inward-looking focus binds us a people and creates unrivalled networks of support that are truly inspiring. On the other hand, R. Lichtenstein (1999: 59) himself bemoaned how a lack of outward-looking focus sadly blinds us from the suffering of the other: “the tendency, prevalent in much of the contemporary Torah world in Israel as well as in the Diaspora, of almost total obliviousness to non-Jewish suffering is shamefully deplorable.”

Deplorable perhaps, but not surprising. Overwhelmingly, the sense of Jewish separateness, as an Am levadad yishkon (Numbers 23:9), very much frames much of our socio-historic reality. Due to wide-spread antisemitism still apparent in the diaspora, let alone in the new guise of anti-Zionism, the resultant insular psyche in the Orthodox world is hard to shake off. At a time when Israel and global Jewry are still reeling from the October 7 terror atrocities and attendant rise in attacks on Jews across the world, the move to particularism is felt even stronger and for understandable reason.

Still, at a time of incomparably greater antisemitism, when world Jewry was left at the mercy of their non-Jewish hosts, we can be inspired by Gittin 61a, as codified by Rambam, Hilkhot Matnot Aniyim 7:7,  which ruled: “One sustains poor gentiles along with poor Jews, and one visits sick gentiles along with sick Jews, and one buries dead gentiles along with dead Jews. All this is done on account of the ways of peace.” Beyond the pragmatic consideration for “the ways of peace,” which in itself is far-reaching, R. Lichtenstein (cited in Ziring 2024) argued that the saving of a gentile’s life is mandatory (even in a case of violating Shabbat) based on principle, and so would apply even where “there would be no problem of negative results.” Whether on grounds of principle or pragmatism, it is clear, as R. Joseph Soloveitchik (cited in Shrage 2010: 131) wrote, that “insularity cannot be vindicated as authentic Judaism even if it can be understood and justified in particular historical periods and situations.” With millions of children continuing to die from poverty-related diseases, it cannot be that we who are called upon to imitate God’s ways should not feel a sense of universal responsibility and demonstrate “compassion over all He has made” (Psalm 145:9). At the level of pikuaḥ nefesh, therefore, we have seen a clear alignment between Halakha and EA with regard to our universal obligations, especially where there is no comparable concern for Jewish life. In a world where we know that millions of people are dying of poverty-related diseases each year, and we have the means to direct our funds into making a real difference in today’s age of technology and globalisation – unlike our ancestors in the past – the demands on Orthodox Jewry are real even if not keenly felt for a variety of hashkafic and historical reasons.[18]

Table 1: Summary for Hilkhot Pikuaḥ Nefesh and Effective Altruism

Tzedakah and Effective Altruism: Alignment or Divergence?

This article has argued that the unconscionable global reality of millions of people dying of poverty-related diseases each year means that the Halakha primarily frames the demands of EA within Hilkhot Pikuaḥ Nefesh. Within that narrow but decisive framework we have seen a welcome opportunity that EA affords the Orthodox Jewish community in terms of our universal obligations. Nevertheless, at a secondary level, it is still important to consider the philosophy of EA in terms of tzedaka and our charitable obligations to the other. Namely, how do the principles of EA square with Hilkhot Tzedaka with regard to non-life saving charity donations?

Singer’s EA challenge in terms of tzedaka elicits contradictory feelings for the halakhically observant. On the one hand, we are heartened by EA elevating charity from the supererogatory to the morally obligatory. As the data shows (see, for example, Putnam and Campbell 2010), for the vast majority of people, charitable giving as a way of life is simply not part of the secular mindset in the Western world. Religious people give more and volunteer more. Interestingly, as Campbell (2010) points out, this is not because of belief but rather because of congregational influences: the greater one’s religious praxis, the more likely one is to give to charity. Thus, EA’s demand for morally obligatory giving is one that halakhically observant Jews should hardly find daunting.

On the other hand, there are three assumptions of EA that must be explored within the halakhic principles underpinning tzedaka. First, we will need to examine how EA’s principle of universalism squares up against the halakhic guide of precedence known as Kedimot, i.e. ordo caritatis. Second, we will weigh up EA’s overriding goal of effectiveness against the balancing act of Kedimot with “kol ha-ta’ev, ta’ev kodem,” i.e. those most in need come first. Third, we will analyse EA’s ‘strong’ and even ‘moderate’ versions of giving in light of the well-known Takanot Usha which placed an upper limit on giving, i.e. one-fifth of one’s wealth.

i.        Kedimot: Particularism vs Universalism

In contrast to Singer’s universalist assumption, Kedimot suggests that it absolutely does matter who the recipient is and where they live. To draw out the difference between these two positions let’s examine the character of Mrs Jellyby in Charles Dickens’ great novel, Bleak House. Satirising the Victorian middle-class obsession with social causes abroad, Dickens’ character, Mrs Jellyby, infamously neglects her husband and children as she can “see nothing nearer than Africa!” Dickens calls this phenomenon ‘telescopic philanthropy’ as Mrs Jellyby’s eyes are closed off to the squalour around her as she puts all her efforts into supporting the far-off natives of ‘Borrioboola-Gha’ in Africa (see John Tenniel’s classic cartoon below). Whilst a follower of EA may applaud the principle underlying Mrs Jellyby’s philanthropy – assuming the poor Africans objectively need more help than her husband and children – it is clear that Ḥazal would not have been impressed with Mrs Jellyby’s misplaced focus.

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Figure 2: Mrs Jellyby’s ‘telescopic philanthropy’ in Charles Dickens’ Bleak House.

As Deuteronomy 15:7-8, the locus classicus for tzedaka, reads:

If, however, there is a needy person among you, one of your kin in any of your settlements in the land that your God is giving you, do not harden your heart and shut your hand against your needy kin. Rather, you must open your hand and lend whatever is sufficient to meet the need.

Bava Metzia 31b itself, initially assuming an obligation only to “aniyei irekha,” i.e. the poor of one’s own locale, shows how this passage teaches us otherwise:

“For the poor shall never cease out of the land; therefore I command you, saying: You shall open [Patoaḥ tiftaḥ] your hand to your poor and needy brother in your land” (Deuteronomy 15:11). I have derived only the obligation to give charity to the poor residents of your city. From where is the obligation to give charity to the poor residents of another city derived? The verse states: “Patoaḥ tiftaḥ,” to teach that you must give charity to the poor in any case.

Such an expanding circle of responsibility, from the particular to the universal—but prioritising the former—is spelled out most famously in the Sifri, Devarim 116:

“If, however, there is a needy person among you”: and not others, i.e. gentiles. 

“evyon, i.e. needy person”: the neediest takes precedence.

“of one of your brothers”: this is your brother from your father;

“one of your brothers”: your brother from your father takes precedence to your brothers from your mother.

“in one of your gates”: the inhabitants of your city take precedence to those of another.

“in one of your gates”: If he sits in one place you are obliged to help him; if he goes begging from door to door you are not obliged to do so.

“in your land”: The inhabitants of Eretz Yisrael take precedence to those who live outside the land.

“that the Lord your God gives to you": (This extends the obligation) to all places.

Kedimot is codified by Rambam, Hilkhot Matnot Aniyim 7:13, as well as Tur and Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah 251. To be sure, as R. Yehudah Zoldan (2015: 38) notes, it is unclear whether Kedimot is merely good guidance, a rabbinic obligation, or even a Torah obligation. R. Weiss (2014b: 151) opines that it is good guidance and a pious attribute. Nevertheless, Rambam’s defence of preferential love is no concession to human nature or social reality but “an excellent moral quality,” which the Halakha “safeguards and fortifies”:

The Torah has taught us that one must go exceedingly far indeed in the exercise of this moral quality. Namely, man ought to take care of his relative and grant very strong preference to the bond of the womb.

(Guide for the Perplexed III: 42)

Quite simply, Mrs Jellyby is a problematic if absurd character within the ethic of Hilkhot Tzedaka which emphasises that the starting point of one’s circle of responsibility is oneself and one’s home. As Dickens (1991: 37) describes his EA heroine: “Mrs Jellyby had very good hair but was too much occupied with her African duties to brush it.” In contrast, Rema, Yoreh De’ah 251:3, rules on Kedimot: “Sustaining oneself takes precedence over sustaining anyone else and one needn’t give tzedaka until he is secure in his own standard of living.”

Such particularism in Hilkhot Tzedaka stands in stark contrast with Singer’s famous justification of universal and equal care for the other, including animals:

The circle of altruism has broadened from the family and tribe to the nation and race, and we are beginning to recognise that our obligations extend to all human beings. The process should not stop there. In my earlier book, Animal Liberation, I showed that it is as arbitrary to restrict the principle of equal consideration of interests to our own species as it would be to restrict it to our own race. The only justifiable stopping place for the expansion of altruism is the point at which all whose welfare can be affected by our actions are included within the circle of altruism. This means that all beings with the capacity to feel pleasure or pain should be included...

(1981: 120)

Singer elevates reason over love and empathy as the credible form of motivation for altruism. Citing Henry Sidgwick, the great 19th century utilitarian philosopher, Singer invokes universalism through the maxim of benevolence by recognising our responsibility from “the point of view of the Universe,” i.e. impartially, as Mrs Jellyby sees it:

Each one is morally bound to regard the good of any other individual as much as his own, except in so far as he judges it to be less, when impartially viewed, or less certainly knowable or attainable by him.

(2015: 81-82)

Within the narrow confines of Hilkhot Tzedaka, EA’s universalist nature is thus left wanting. R. Ozer Glickman (2010: 286) noted sharply that: “Many Jews may be surprised to discover that they may not be fulfilling the mitzva of tzedaka even if they write regular checks to nonprofit institutions. Tzedaka is the extension of support to a poor Jew.” With a concession only for supporting Torah institutions, we can see that the philosophically particularist underpinnings of Hilkhot Tzedaka are wholly different from the universalist and impartial EA worldview. As R. Glickman concludes:

The base case for tzedaka is the support of the local poor.

This is the force of the Sifri… The drasha [i.e. homily] envisions charitable responsibilities in widening social and geographic circles while respecting the local nature of the primary obligation through the notion of precedence. Tzedaka is essentially a relationship between two human beings, one needy and the other able to provide.

(Ibid.)

ii.      Kol ha-ta’ev, ta’ev kodem: Proximity vs Urgency

So much for universalism. Yet we certainly need not give up on the importance of ‘effectiveness’ within Hilkhot Tzedaka. The principle remains but we shall see a more complex balancing act for halakhic giving than EA’s elegant calculus of working out “the most good you can do.”

Whilst Kedimot is the most well-known prioritisation principle, and so provides an expanding circle of responsibility, from the particular to the universal, it is not the only one. Thus, R. Moshe Sofer, Teshuvot Ḥatam Sofer, Yoreh De’ah 231 ruled that the priority of proximity only applies in cases of comparable need. His basis is the principle of kol ha-ta’ev, ta’ev kodem, which is gleaned from the word “evyon – the needy person” coming first in the Sifri’s list of priorities spelled out above. R. Pinchas HaLevi Horowitz rules similarly in his Panim Yafot on Deuteronomy 15:7.

Even so, R. Daniel Z. Feldman (2021) notes that for both authorities, familial duties still come first. For the Panim Yafot, “[w]hen family is concerned, their needs come first, even if others outside the familial group are more urgently lacking.” Meanwhile, for Ḥatam Sofer, even “he dispensed with this standard [of prioritising the neediest] when the recipient was the donor’s father” due to special obligations a child has towards their parent. Unlike Mrs Jellyby, whose only concern is for kol ha-ta’ev, ta’ev kodem, the halakhic donor must balance this with his or her familial duties. David Edmonds (2025: 144) provides a helpful critique of Mrs Jellyby’s approach, even if she had proven to be an effective altruist: “Special obligations to our children are morally foundational, of an entirely different order from our obligations to needy strangers. They’re not based on any calculus of utilitarian efficiency.” So too, Hilkhot Tzedaka, as exemplified by Kedimot, are not merely about outcome but also about the donor and their relationship with the recipient. As Rambam (Hilkhot Matnot Aniyim 10:1) put it in a decidedly non-utilitarian manner: “We are obligated to be careful with regard to the mitzvah of charity to a greater extent than all other positive commandments, because charity is an identifying mark for a righteous person.”

Thus, a careful balance is recommended, with Ḥatam Sofer (ad. loc.) ruling that one’s priorities in giving should be proportionate. Simply put, it would be difficult to justify buying the latest electronic gadget for my child over my giving to local families in need of food for sustenance. Other authorities have advised diversifying one’s giving, based on Eruvin 63a and codified in Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah 257:9: “One should not centre all his charities in one poor man.” Kerslowe (ad. loc.), for example, cites R. Hershel Schachter recommending an 80-20 split in favour of local charities vs more global causes. Meanwhile, R. Weiss (2014b: 151) recommends giving “some to Talmud Torah, some to the poor, as well as to similar charities for good causes.”

iii.   Takanat Usha and its exceptions

Takanot Usha were a series of rabbinic decrees passed in the Galilean city of Usha that provided the values for communal life in the wake of the Bar Kochba revolt in 135CE and subsequent Hadrianic persecutions. This historical context is important for understanding the rabbinic concern for impoverished Jewish communities in Eretz Yisrael and how they could be sustained. In such a terrible economic and social climate, children were being neglected, with central communal funds being relied upon to care for their welfare. In turn, Ketubot 49b tells us: “In Usha Ḥazal instituted that a man should sustain his sons and daughters when they are minors.”

Complementing this rule, Ketubot 50a continues: “In Usha Ḥazal instituted that one who dispenses his money to charity should not dispense more than one-fifth.” Whether Ḥazal were concerned for the idealistic effective altruists of their day or ascetics eschewing material wealth for the spiritual life (as was growing popular among early Christians), the drive for self-help and economic realism is clear. To this end, Ketubot 50a goes on to tell the anecdote of R. Yeshavev who was prevented by his friend, R. Akiva, from giving more than 20 per cent of his property to charity “lest he render himself destitute and need the help of other people.”

Let’s consider the character of Elazar Ish Birta (or Birtuta) in more depth from Ta’anit 24a:

Whenever the charity collectors would see Elazar of the village of Birta, they would hide from him, as any money Elazar had with him he would give them, and they did not want to take all his property. One day, Elazar went to the market to purchase what he needed for his daughter’s dowry. The charity collectors saw him and hid from him. He went and ran after them, saying to them: I adjure you, tell me, in what mitzva are you engaged? They said to him: We are collecting money for the wedding of an orphan boy and an orphan girl. He said to them: I swear by the Temple service that they take precedence over my daughter. He took everything he had with him and gave it to them. He was left with one single dinar, with which he bought himself wheat, and he then ascended to his house and threw it into the granary. Elazar’s wife came and said to her daughter: What has your father brought? She said to her mother: Whatever he brought he threw into the granary. She went to open the door of the granary, and saw that the granary was full of wheat, so much so that it was coming out through the doorknob, and the door would not open due to the wheat. The granary had miraculously been completely filled. Elazar’s daughter went to the study hall and said to her father: Come and see what He Who loves you, the Almighty, has performed for you. He said to her: I swear by the Temple service, as far as you are concerned this wheat is consecrated property, and you have a share in it only as one of the poor Jews.[19]

Much like the hapless Mrs Jellyby, Elazar Ish Birta is certainly altruistic even if ineffective. Whereas the Almighty is described as “He Who loves you,” and so suggests Divine approval for his largesse, the story leaves us intuitively crying out for his long-suffering wife and daughter. The battle between a more universal love, known as agape within Christian thought, and Jewish concern for Kedimot is being played out in this Ish Birta family drama. And the Sages of Usha clearly ruled in favour of the familial obligation, known as storge, to prevent parents from negating their very natural duties towards their families in favour of more distant causes.

But it would be too simplistic to stop there. In his analysis of Takanot Usha in Ahavat Ḥessed 20:1, Ḥafetz Ḥaim expands the scope for EA within Hilkhot Tzedaka in two major ways. First, citing the Ḥokhmat Adam 144:10, he notes that because the enactment was instituted so that one doesn’t fall into penury oneself, the takanah does not apply to an “ashir muflag” i.e. a particularly wealthy individual who needn’t fear such an eventuality.[20] Moreover, we may extend this exemption to giving away one’s wealth (without any limitations) just before one dies, which Ḥafetz Ḥaim notes is what Mar Ukva did in Ketubot 67a. It is interesting to note that on similar grounds EA has been particularly popular with the wealthiest through the Giving Pledge, set up by Bill Gates, Melinda French Gates, and Warren Buffett, which was “launched in 2010 to unlock vast resources to address the world’s most urgent issues.” To this end, the Giving Pledge “is a promise by the world’s wealthiest philanthropists to give the majority of their wealth to charitable causes in their lifetime or wills.”[21]

Second, Ḥafetz Ḥaim (op. cit. 20:8) analyses the use of the word “mevazvez,” i.e. wasting or squandering one’s wealth. His focus duly turns to the ‘effective’ use of one’s wealth: “From the takanah enacted by Ḥazal, we can contemplate how important it is for a person to look after their money, and not to waste their wealth on inyanei hevel.” Whether we translate these items of vanity as luxury items or simply things we don’t need, Ḥafetz Ḥaim warns against the trap of “keeping up with the Joneses,” so prevalent in many of our middle-class communities. Whether it is spending relatively large amounts on clothes and the finest items, mansions, or luxuriating on excessive help, Ḥafetz Ḥaim warns that such waste will only lead one to ruin – both material and spiritual. Rather, he concludes: “Every discerning person should not waste his money on vanity and emptiness, but rather on necessary items and for tzedaka and ḥessed, and so they will benefit.”

This turn to the effective use of one’s resources also correlates with Singer’s appeal to the EA way of life being a meaningful one that brings huge benefits to the giver, surely in keeping with Torah values:

Being an effective altruist helps to overcome what I call the Sisyphus problem. …Sisyphus [is] condemned by the gods to push a huge boulder up to the top of the hill. Just as he gets there, the effort becomes too much, the boulder escapes, rolls all the way down the hill, he has to trudge back down to push it up again, and the same thing happens again and again for all eternity. Does that remind you of a consumer lifestyle, where you work hard to get money, you spend that money on consumer goods which you hope you'll enjoy using? But then the money's gone, you have to work hard to get more, spend more, and to maintain the same level of happiness, it's kind of a hedonic treadmill. You never get off, and you never really feel satisfied. Becoming an effective altruist gives you that meaning and fulfilment. It enables you to have a solid basis for self-esteem on which you can feel your life was really worth living.

(2013)

R. Shlomo Aviner goes even further, citing the following dictum from R. Avraham Yitzchak Ha-Kohen Kook (Orach-Mishpat, Orach Chayim 128:54): “One should be particularly careful about tzedaka, and one must know that what pertains to the life of a poor person takes priority over all luxuries in one’s own life, according to our Holy Torah.”

With the limitation of one-fifth not applying to the wealthy, R. Aviner takes up EA’s ‘moderate’ approach for anyone living beyond the beinoni, i.e. average middle-class income. As he writes:

And we may deduce that the reason for the takanah is so that “one isn’t financially dependent on others.” Therefore, a wealthy person can give huge amounts until he reaches the level of a beinoni, for even a beinoni is not forbidden from giving up to a fifth, for they weren’t concerned that because of this a person would become dependent on others.

(2008: 54)

Citing Ḥafetz Ḥaim’s guidance on spending money on worthwhile causes over vanity and nonsense, R. Aviner argues that because wealth cannot be prioritised over the life of others, any expenditure on luxury items, i.e. those goods and services beyond the means of a beinoni, is unacceptable. For R. Aviner, living within “financial capacity” means being able to afford the essentials for living as a beinoni. In this vein, when Tur, Yoreh De’ah 251 and Rema, ibid.:3 write of a person’s livelihood taking priority, they are clearly speaking of necessities for living a dignified, beinoni life. R. Aviner concludes:

This is the principle: a wealthy person is obligated to give from his wealth to the poor, even if this means lowering his own wealth to that of a beinoni – average in society, in order to fulfil the needs of the poor, i.e. their essential needs for living. (ad. loc.)

Teshuvot Ḥatam Sofer, Yoreh De’ah 229 wrote in similar terms:

According to the Torah, as long as a person can sustain their day-to-day living, they are obligated to give the rest to the poor. It was only in Usha that they enacted that a person should not squander more than a fifth.

With the reason being that this could lead to donors becoming dependent on welfare themselves, it is clear that for many of us in our modern, middle-class environment, the one-fifth limitation of Takanat Usha no longer applies.

Thus, R. Aviner’s principle arguably accords with Singer’s ‘moderate’ version, i.e. that we ought to reduce ourselves to the level of a beinoni within the parameters of Hilkhot Tzedaka.[22] After one has sustained oneself and family in terms of the necessities of life, any excess should be reserved for those who need it more. Here he cites the Ba’al HaTanya, Iggeret-HaKodesh 16, for support, which is worth quoting in full:

As to the ruling of Ḥazal (Bava Metzia 62a) that “Your own life takes precedence,” this applies only in a case “when one has a pitcher of water in hand…,” that is, when it is equally essential that both drink in order to save their lives from thirst.

But if a pauper needs bread for the mouths of babes, and firewood and clothes against the cold, and the like, then all these take precedence over any fine apparel and family feasts, with meat and fish and all kinds of delicacies, for oneself and all of one’s household.

The rule that “your own life takes precedence” does not apply in such a case, because these are not really essential to life, as are [the needs] of the poor, in true equality, as is discussed in Nedarim 80b. Now, the above follows the exact requirements of the law.

In fact, however, even in a case where such reasoning does not so fully apply, it is not proper that any man insist on the letter of the law; rather, he should impose austerity on his own life and go far beyond the [demands of the] letter of the law.

Moreover, one should be concerned, for his own sake, with the teaching of Ḥazal, that—even in a situation where “that which is yours takes precedence over that which belongs to others”—he who is exacting in this matter, and does not go beyond the letter of the law, “will eventually be brought to this matter”: he himself will ultimately need charity, heaven forfend.

And after all, all of us need the mercies of heaven at all times, [which are elicited] only through an arousal from below, at all times and at every moment, by arousing our compassion for those who are in need of compassion.

But whoever hardens his heart and suppresses his compassion, for whatever reason, causes the same above—the suppression of [Divine compassion], heaven forfend.

Certainly, R. Aviner and Ḥafetz Ḥaim take issue with EA’s universalism. However, they are still bound by the principle of ‘effectiveness’ albeit in the frameworks of Kedimot and kol ha-ta’ev, ta’ev kodem. The marginal utility of providing for the poorest in society far surpasses the benefit of being “mevazvez” our wealth on “inyanei hevel” and so the ‘moderate’ version does seem in keeping with Hilkhot Tzedaka.

In a sharp critique of R. Aviner’s “provocative” ruling on tzedaka, R. Chaim Jachter (2011) posits that because the Torah itself (Exodus 30:15) “describes both wealthy and poor individuals in Am Yisrael,” this structural reality is part of the capitalist society that “the Torah essentially advocates… although with some limitations.” In turn, he rejects R. Aviner’s “vision of a financially egalitarian society.” However, R. Jachter makes a formal error in his analysis. As the Israeli philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz (1997) pointed out, there are fundamentally two kinds of halakhot: those that create relationships and those that regulate relationships already in existence. Private law that governs religious and interpersonal behaviour is of the first kind, and the social law is of the second. R. Sacks (2023: 151) explains: “The Torah did not create ideal social institutions de novo. Instead it took the forms already extant in society and proceeded to regulate them, slowly moving towards an ideal.” It is true that the Torah speaks of poor people, but it also speaks of slaves. Just as it would be absurd to imagine that the ideal Torah society includes slavery, so too would it be difficult to argue that it should include poverty.

In any case, proponents of EA, led by Singer himself, usually accept that the capitalist system remains the most robust way for generating wealth than any other (see, for example, Singer and Lewis 2010). Foregoing luxury items in favour of saving lives in no way hampers capitalism. Remember, Singer lauds entrepreneurs like Gates and Buffett as well as those in finance and commerce for using their wealth in effectively altruistic ways. It is precisely by using the capitalist system for charitable purposes that Singer thinks we can make the most impactful change. Where the idealistic ‘strong’ version proves too much – which Singer accepts it is for most – then EA concedes a ‘moderate’ version or even a more ‘realistic’ ten per cent, that prove more sustainable for the long term for most people.

Yet my own anecdotal experience tells me that the barriers may be even higher within the halakhic community. Minhag avoteinu beyadenu, i.e. long-standing practice, reigns supreme for many, and the mimetic tradition means that a re-evaluation of the sources in light of EA and the modern context will be an uphill struggle in two ways. First, although EA’s sustainable stance of ten per cent is feasible and very much the reality for many in the Torah world already, the move to the ‘moderate’, let alone the ‘strong’, version of EA, will be too much to bear. Second, local Jewish charities are overwhelmingly preferred to global, non-Jewish charities – especially in times of heightened antisemitism, which is all too sadly the reality, even today.

Table 2: Summary for Hilkhot Tzedaka and Effective Altruism

Conclusion

That this article has analysed EA through the prism of different categories of Halakha – namely Pikuaḥ Nefesh and Tzedaka – in itself speaks of the contrast in the underlying philosophies of EA and Halakha. The former ultimately stems from Jeremy Bentham’s principle of utility, i.e. the greatest happiness for the greatest number (see, for example, Sweet n.d.). Adherence to this single principle allows EA to be resolutely focused on how one can best maximise their giving to produce the most good for the most people. This logical universalism remains true at all levels of giving for EA.

In contrast, the latter is governed by a plurality of independent norms that aren’t deducible from any single principle (see, for example, Wurvurger 1994: 40). To be sure, in terms of Hilkhot Pikuaḥ Nefesh we saw an alignment with EA in terms of the universal obligation to save other lives. Nevertheless, we also a saw clear divergence within Hilkhot Tzedaka as we took up competing particularist halakhic principles – including Kedimot and “kol ha-ta’ev, ta’ev kodem” – which required a careful balance in terms of one’s obligations. Such a pluralist philosophy of Halakha was most famously championed by Saadia Gaon:

…I have seen people who think – and with them it is a firm conviction – that it is obligatory for human beings to order their entire existence upon the exploitation of one trait, lavishing their love on one thing above all others… Now I have investigated this view and I found it to be extremely erroneous for sundry reasons.

One of these it that if the [exclusive] love for one thing and its preference [above all others] had been the most salutary thing for man, the Creator would not have implanted in his character the love for these other things.

(1999: 188)

Just as the Halakha applauds universalism at the level of saving lives, so too does it champion particularism at the level of tzedaka. In sum, the Halakha rails against relying on one simple principle to frame all of our obligations to the other, however elegant it may seem. Rather, our complex world demands a plurality of values that need to be weighed carefully so that we fulfil our halakhic duties in the most optimal of ways.

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Rabbi Dr Akiva Tatz, Ashley Hirst, and Dr Donald Franklin for kindly reading through earlier drafts and providing highly effective feedback. Their insightful comments have done much to improve the article for which I am very grateful. Of course, the conclusions I reach are my own.

Endnotes

[1] EA has blossomed as has the literature surrounding it. For an excellent overview, see David Edmonds (2025), Death in a Shallow Pond. From the effective altruists themselves see William MacAskill (2022a), What We Owe the Future, and Peter Singer (2015), The Most Good You Can Do.

[2] For better, see Peter Singer’s 2013 TedTalk, ‘The why and how of effective altruism’: https://www.ted.com/talks/peter_singer_the_why_and_how_of_effective_altruism. For worse, see The Economist (2013), ‘What Sam Bankman-Fried’s downfall means for effective altruism’: https://www.economist.com/briefing/2022/11/17/what-sam-bankman-frieds-downfall-means-for-effective-altruism.

[3] Benjamin Kerslowe (2023), ‘Effective Altruism and Tzedaka,’ provides a helpful introduction to the topic: https://www.yutorah.org/lectures/1067154/Effective-Altruism-and-Tzedakah. For a fuller discussion of tzedaka in modern life, see Yossi Prager (ed.), (2010), Toward a Renewed Ethic of Jewish Philanthropy; interestingly, the term, ‘Effective Altruism’, doesn’t appear in the volume.

[4] This article will not delve into apologetics or broader issues of Jewish influence that are no doubt important for Jewish communal leaders to consider. Equally, this is not the forum for discussing the wider socio-economic debates surrounding EA. For such a discussion, see Angus Deaton (2013), The Great Escape, Chapter 7. My thanks to the British philosopher David Edmonds for bringing Deaton’s critique of EA to my attention.

[5] According to the World Health Organisation, an estimated 5 million children under the age of 5 years died in 2020, mostly from preventable and treatable causes. Approximately half of those deaths, 2.4 million, occurred among newborns in the first 28 days of life. See: https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/child-mortality-under-5-years. Despite these harrowing figures, these numbers are actually a lot better than when Singer wrote his essay in 1971.

[6] See https://www.givewell.org/charities/top-charities for the cost-effectiveness of the world’s top charities.

[7] Of course, Singer gets this figure from ma’aser, the tithe set aside in Jewish and Christian practice based on Genesis 14 and 28, in itself an effective and inclusive use of religious ethics.

[8] The tragic story of the American altruist George R. Price (1922-1975), a brilliant and eccentric scientist, is a helpful case to consider. Whilst altruistic, one may question his ‘effectiveness’. See, for example, James Schwartz (2000), ‘Death of an Altruist,’: https://bio.kuleuven.be/ento/pdfs/schwartz2000.pdf. Singer himself lauds the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation for its effectiveness, especially the focus on saving children’s lives in the developing world. As of May 2025, the Gates Foundation claims to have contributed to saving 82 million lives. See: https://tinyurl.com/a8z5vaxf. Furthermore, inspiring case studies of effective altruists like Toby Ord and Julia Wise show the real impact regular earners can make too. See: https://juliawise.net/category/effective-altruism/.

[9] Note that Kerslowe’s shiur is entitled ‘Effective Altruism and Tzedaka’. I argue that his halakhic focus is too narrow, causing him to make a category error.

[10] There is a minority view, e.g. Yad Ramah (s.v. tania) and Chavot Ya’ir, no. 146, that if the endangered person would not be able to pay the rescuer back, then the rescuer is not obligated to spend his own money. R. Yair Bacharach (ad. loc.) holds that this is not the normative view.

[11] It is important to note the blurring of the lines of Hilkhot Tzedaka and Hlikhot Pikuaḥ Nefesh. Just as I argue that there is a category error to view the most salient aspects of EA within the former rather than the latter, I do accept that, for obvious reasons, the halakhic literature does talk of both in the same breath. Rambam, Tur and Shulḥan Arukh place Hilkhot Pidyon Shvuyim within Hilkhot Matnot Aniyim and Hilkhot Tzedaka respectively. Nevertheless, this does not mean that the framework for tzedaka may be simply transposed onto pikuaḥ nefesh.

[12] For the latter, see, for example, Shulḥan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah 151.

[13] Parenthetically, there is an aspect of modelling correct behaviour: where a potentially controversial act of seemingly desecrating Shabbat for something that “might” help the patient recover, we call on “the leaders of Israel” to step up and show the importance of urgent and decisive action to save a life. See, for example, Rambam, Hilkhot Shabbat 2:3 where “and the wise” is added to “the leaders of Israel” to emphasise this point.

[14] This is codified in Shulḥan Arukh, Ḥoshen Mishpat 426:1.

[15] R. Shimon Taub (2001: 12) notes that even within Hilkhot Tzedaka, which entails the principle of “aniyei kamai –  giving to poor people in front of you… [t]he consensus of the Poskim is that just the knowledge of an indigent needing money would obligate one in the mitzvah of tzedakah.” We will delve further into the principle of Kedimot when analysing EA through non-life saving charitable donations.

[16] As Rashi (s.v. R. Yosei omer) explains: R. Yosei was concerned that the wearing of unlaundered clothes was unhygienic and so could cause suffering and pose a danger.

[17] See UNICEF’s “Levels and Trends in Child Mortality” 2024 Report: https://data.unicef.org/resources/levels-and-trends-in-child-mortality-2024/.

[18] Of course, it must be stressed that wider society hardly feels the obligatory nature of EA either. In her fascinating study of individuals who do go “to the brink of moral extremity,” Larissa MacFarquhar (2015: 9-10) makes a fascinating link between the “saintly do-gooder” and the obligations people feel in times of war. My thanks to R. Dr Akiva Tatz for bringing this book to my attention.

[19] Rashi (s.v. only as one of the poor Jews) explains that the granary filling was a miracle and “it is forbidden to benefit from a miracle.”

[20] In modern terms, if we can assume an ashir muflag would be one who is in the richest 1% of the global population, this would mean that for a family of two adults and four children in the United States, a yearly post-tax household income of $400,000 would suffice (accounting for the differences in cost of living between countries using Purchasing Power Parity (PPP). For an individual, one’s post-tax salary would need to be $65,000 to be in the top 1%. See “How Rich Am I?” at https://www.givingwhatwecan.org/.

[21] See https://www.givingpledge.org/.

[22] See also Arukh HaShulḥan, Yoreh De’ah 251:5 for a similar viewpoint.

References

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A Yom Kippur Meditation on Compassion and Responsibility

Daniel Greenberg CB, for the Jewish Ethics Project

Here we are again, at the centrepiece of the Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services, the “Unetaneh Tokef” prayer: the angels trembling in dread as all humanity passes one by one, like sheep through the gap, under God’s omniscient gaze as He decides what lies ahead for each of us this year.   

As a child, this was always the imagery of Yom Kippur that touched me most closely: a child can picture angels better than an adult, and sheep are the common currency of childhood literature.  As I grew older, the picture grew less poignant, retreating further and further into the mists of unreality each year.  I have lived a sheltered and privileged life in which drowning and starvation, beheading and stoning, and all the other horrors in this catechism of misery have seemed comfortably the stuff of melodrama, or the stuff of reality only for other places and peoples.

For various reasons, in recent years the imagery has grown closer and closer again to my mind and makes a terrified child of me again at least for the few minutes of this prayer as I contemplate the brutalities of what Kipling’s Tibetan Lama so constantly and movingly describes as “this great and terrible world”.  Last year, I thought for a moment about each and every one of the horrors recited in the text, and without difficulty I found their presence in the world around me.

Death by famine or drought has been so much in the news this year.  There is natural or man-made famine or food-poverty in most parts of the globe, including the developed world.  And of course as a Jew I think particularly of the sufferings of those in and around Israel: hostages starving in their subterranean misery; the displaced of Israel and surrounding countries struggling to survive; and of course innocent inhabitants of Gaza reduced overnight to dependency on survival handouts that too often do not reach them, and who in scenes reminiscent of the Tochacha (the Biblical prophetic passage of warning) are forced to watch in impotent misery as their children suffer the increasingly painful and lingering death throes of malnutrition. 

Public policy, and political and military strategy, necessarily drive decisions of politicians and soldiers: but they must not drive my own internal ethical narrative.  Compassion is an universal ethical imperative for each of God’s creations, and as I read the lines of the Unetaneh Tokef prayer again and wonder how to shape an appropriate ethical reaction, I think again of the Tzadik Reb Aryeh Levin who on learning that there was a famine in Africa initiated a collection to help relieve it: when asked whether one could contribute from ma’aser money (tithes) his response was firm: “No, you cannot – so give me some money that is not from ma’aser”.  His message was clear: compassion must never be reduced to the level of a mere ritual religious obligation; it must be experienced as a core human emotion, and translated through a feeling of humanitarian responsibility into constructive action.

And then I think about the misery caused by natural disasters: “those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation” (Conan Doyle) are shrieking louder and louder every year.  As I read “who will be empoverished … who will be cast down” I see myself watching cultures disappearing beneath the rising waters of the sea, livelihoods destroyed in a day through the raging of wildfires, and fishermen from thousands of years of fisherman stock staring at the last few sickly fish wriggling and struggling in the dry lakes.  If I look down on them from inside the comfortable bars of my first-world civilisation, without feeling a need to take some responsibility for human suffering in some real way, can I really claim to be part of the symbolic flock of sheep that is passing through the gap under the severe and unblinking scrutiny of the Lord of all creation today?

“Can I really claim to be part of the symbolic flock of sheep that is passing through the gap under the severe and unblinking scrutiny of the Lord of all creation today?”

And so it goes on through every couplet and every terror.  I pause briefly at the mention of torture and torment and remind myself that modern slavery appears to be growing not merely in quantity but even in barbarity compared to previous horrors the world has known. The Uighur Muslims, children, women and men of an ancient and delicate civilisation, suffering literally untold and barely imagined horrors of “re-education” and “medicine”, financed by forced labour the produce of which lands in our shops in the form of suspicious low prices from which we conveniently suspend our disbelief.

And my eyes cloud over again as I think of the women of Afghanistan, so recently tantalised by a glimpse of liberation and equality under the rule of law, being forced deeper and deeper into subhuman levels of oppression and degradation, debasing the currency of the virtue modesty in whose name these enormities are perpetrated. 

And so I come to the end, to the solemn reflection on the powers of prayer, repentance and charity, crowned as always by the joyful proclamation of God as Living King.  But this year it fails to provide a satisfying and triumphant conclusion in the way that it has: because it does not address the reality of the horrors I have lived for the last few minutes, and I feel no cleansing absolution while those horrors remain part of the world in which I live and I do nothing about them.

For today to bring a real feeling of atonement, I need to confront my own part of the collective responsibility for human sufferings caused, exacerbated or simply tolerated and ignored by “man’s inhumanity to man” (Robert Burns, Man Was Made To Mourn); I need to leave the Days of Awe this year having made some solid commitment to myself to harness the timeless values and teachings of Judaism in a way that makes a real difference to the ethical balances of world events today; so that I can see the recurring Yomim Nora’im vision of a world in which humanity joins together in the worship of a single beneficent Deity not as an unreal picture-book ending that absolves me from the need to think and act, but as a stirring practical inspiration for the year ahead.

Morality Is Not a Matter of Choice

By Professor David Hillel Ruben, for the Jewish Ethics Project

HYPOTHETICAL IMPERATIVES

The great German philosopher, Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) distinguished between hypothetical and categorical imperatives. A hypothetical imperative is based on one’s individual desires or wishes. A hypothetical imperative typically takes an ‘if, then’ form. It’s called ‘a conditional judgment’. It has an antecedent (the component in the ‘if’ clause’) and a consequent (the component in the ‘then’ clause). For example: if you want to achieve some goal x (the desired goal is the component in the antecedent clause), then do y! (the component in the consequent, ‘do y’, is an imperative, or call to action). Goals are the objects of our wishes and desires. Goals might be mundane, like the goal of getting into town or finding something tasty to eat, or they might be more serious, more profound, like achieving happiness or health.

But what both examples have in common is that they make the prescribed actions, ‘do y’, dependent on having those desires (the ‘if…,’ part). Hypothetical goals certainly display a kind of rationality: if one desires goal X, then do y as an efficient means of obtaining that goal. Taking effective means to a postulated end is a core part of the idea of rationality, even though it is not the only part of rationality. One’s goal might even be noble: being a good or virtuous person. So, the hypothetical imperative might be: if you want to be a good or virtuous person, then do such-and-such kinds of actions. But this makes the goal of being a good or virtuous person dependent on the wanting of whatever the goal is. The conditional judgment says nothing to the person who does not adopt the goal of being a good or virtuous person as their own. Without having adopted that goal, the action has no purchase on the individual.

THE CATEGORICAL IMPERATIVE

Hypothetical imperatives contrast with categorical imperatives. A categorical imperative is an unconditional imperative (Do y!). No ‘if’ precedes it. It ‘commands’ something without any qualification. The imperative, ‘Do y!’, does not depend on anything we might want or desire. It is independent of any goals the person might adopt or fail to adopt. Its command is categorical. One can’t always tell whether an imperative is categorical or hypothetical just by its superficial grammatical form. When we see a door with a sign that says ‘Push’, we don’t understand that as a categorical demand. What the sign on the door really means is: ‘if you want to enter, push’, namely a hypothetical imperative.

What is an example of an unconditional imperative or command? Kant thinks that there is only one system of categorical imperatives: the laws of morality. Moral imperatives command us to act in certain ways and to refrain from acting in other ways, without making such commands dependent on anything we want, or indeed on anything else. Morality’s demands from us actions unconditionally, independently of any of our own personal goals or wishes. Morality’s demands don’t depend on what we have chosen to pursue; those demands, as it were, pursue us in the form of unconditional requirements

THE NATURE OF MORALITY

Kant’s insight is both profound and challenging. Morality is a system that takes the individual out of the realm of his or her subjective wishes and desires and prescribes for each of us a set of duties or ways of behaving to which all human beings, insofar as they are rational agents, are subject. Those demands don’t even say: if you want to be fully rational, adopt morality. Those demands just say: Be moral. But they are addressed to all rational agents.

This characterisation of morality describes our own tradition’s understanding: “Learn to do good; devote yourself to justice, aid the wronged; uphold the rights of the orphan, and defend the widow’s cause,” (Isaiah 1:17). The novi’s command is categorical. It simply says: seek justice. In short, morality unconditionally requires that persons act or avoid acting in certain ways, full stop. Morality presses upon the individual as an external force, demanding things of him or her, regardless of what their personal desire profile might be like. Put it this way: there is no escaping morality. It presses on us and calls us to action, whether we want it to do so or not. Morality demands unconditionally certain behaviours from us.

“There is no escaping morality. It presses on us and calls us to action, whether we want it to do so or not.”

DURKHEIM AND  ANOMIE

Emile Durkheim (1858-1917), a French social philosopher, was one of the founding fathers of social science, especially sociology. Born in Lorraine, he was a Jew, who came from a long line of rabbis, including his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. He attended a yeshiva before turning to a secular academic life.

Perhaps one of his most novel concepts was the concept of anomie, lawlessness. His emphasis on law and regulation is in some ways congruent with Kant’s thought. He saw in the modern condition the unhealthy individual who suffers from lack of regulation by rules or norms. In a state of anomie, the individual suffers from ‘the malady of infinite aspiration’. Such an individual has seemingly unlimited desires and adopts ends or goals only insofar as they are believed by him or her to lead to those subjective goals. Religion, along with other institutions, has lost its unconditional moral force over the individual. Individuals have a basic need, on his view, to acknowledge norms that guide him or her, norms that are felt by the individual as an outside force which does not depend on his or her whims or choices. When they fail to respond to the pressure of these demands that arise outside their own motivational profile of wishes and wants, persons are in a state of anomie, which, according to Durkheim, is responsible for many of the ills of contemporary society.

There is a continuity in thought between Kant’s hypothetical imperatives, and Durkheim’s anomie. If all that people do is subject only to hypothetical demands, dependent on their individual adoption of the ends they desire, all sense of structure in their lives is lost, and most importantly the sense of a categorical morality disappears. Individuals need to feel norms and rules as a force requiring things from them. Combining Durkheim and Kant makes for a powerful message. Kant shows us that there is a moral authority which exceeds not only individual desires but may also provide a critique of any single community’s take on morality. Durkheim adds a social dimension to his, arguing that individuals who live on a purely individualistic plane are crippled in their lives in various ways.

Whether or not this anomic condition is responsible for the ills that Durkheim found in contemporary society (like suicide, for example), religious Jews will see in his description much of the contemporary social culture which they reject. Not everything is up to personal choice. Individualism has its limits. Morality is the best example. If we fail to understand the way in which morality makes demands on us, we remain trapped into a realm of subjectivity, in which everything will seem to us a matter of personal choice. A veritable smorgasbord from which the individual picks what suits him or her on each occasion. The Kantian unconditionality of morality shows us a way out of that unhealthy morass, and demands of us that we respond to the kind of claims on us that are so typical of our tradition: ‘What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?’ (Michah 6:8).

Yom Kippur Desert Island Discs

By Rabbi Michael Pollak, for the Jewish Ethics Project

I have long thought that Israel Radio and Television have been missing a trick. Rather than mimicking our own very dear “Desert Island Discs”, where guests can choose from any piece of recorded music, the Israeli equivalent should draw on the familiarity of the Yom Tov Machzor or the Haggadah to ask guests to choose their favourite Pesach songs or their favourites from the Yamim Noraim (High Holidays) services. I have long been preparing for that phone call comes. My list is ready – every choice is drawn from the Tefilot of Yom Kippur.

In first place my selection even trumps the thunderous Marei Kohen. Despite its majestical evocation of the radiant face of the High Priest as he emerged intact from the Holy of Holies, that hymn only ranks third on my list. In second place, by the narrowest of margins is the uplifting final Kaddish of Yom Kippur which heralds – at long last – the return to food. But as the outright winner of my Desert Island Discs selection, I have chosen the rousing hymn which we sing almost immediately after Kedusha during Musaf on each of the days of Rosh Hashana and on Yom Kippur. Referred to by the inspiring opening word Vaye’etayu it is normally sung to a thumping German marching tune. The opening lines are:

And everyone will come to serve You and bless Your glorious Name,

and throughout the Isles they shall declare Your righteousness.

Its best heard as a choral piece with the multitude of voices conjuring up the vision of peoples of every faith and ethnicity streaming into Jerusalem. The unexpected universalism continues:

And peoples will seek You, who knew You not before;

and they will praise You, those who live in every part of the earth, and they will say, always, “Hashem is Great”

At the heart of the holiest day of the Jewish Calendar we give voice to a moral imperative: that this day is only complete when all of humanity has been welcomed into our capital city. In Western Culture the closest parallel is found in the Choral Movement in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, with its vision of universal brotherhood. Closer to home, Robert Zimmerman’s Blowin’ in the Wind shares that self-same yearning for the dignity and unity of all humanity.

Strangely, we have largely evicted statements which demand an allegiance to a common morality from our discourse around the Yom Kippur prayers. Universalism has given way to a narrow particularism, often heralded by the signpost word “profound” - a prelude to what is frequently unintelligible, and, in truth shallow. The plain meaning of these prayers has been demoted in preference to the obscure and mysterious. But the true message of the words is insistent: Judaism envisions a world in which all peoples can live together.

The hymn of Vaye’etayu is followed by repeated petition for the welfare of all of humanity. We continue to affirm the centrality of the universal in Judaism in the following prayers:

חֲמֹל עַל מַעֲשֶֽׂיךָ

Have compassion upon Your works,

וְתִשְׂמַח בְּמַעֲשֶֽׂיךָ,

and rejoice in Your works;

וּבְכֵן

And so,

תֵּן פַּחְדְּךָ ה’, אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ

grant that Your awe, Hashem, our Lord

עַל כָּל מַעֲשֶֽׂיךָ

be upon all Your works,

.וְאֵימָתְךָ עַל כָּל מַה שֶּׁבָּרָֽאתָ

And your reverence be upon all that you have created.

The centrality of Ethics and Morality in the Jewish worldview is woven throughout our prayers. We see this theme in the Thirteen Attributes of the Divine which are repeated throughout the Ten Days of Repentance until the final service of Yom Kippur. The Ne’ilah service may be heard as a type of fugue around these attributes, each voice returning to the same essential truth: that God is defined by his Moral Virtues. God is Morality. In our holiest moments, God the Almighty. God the omnipotent has to stand alongside the God of Virtue.

“We, the Jewish People, are chosen to celebrate the existence of a Creator who gives his Creation a moral purpose.”

This call to a universal moral faith is not only an invitation to believe; it is more importantly, a summons to adopt the Divine by living through His moral imperative. In his final and perhaps greatest work, Morality, Rabbi Sacks articulated this duality in the following way:

1. God has created humanity to lead an ethical life and bring kindness into the world for all of humanity

2. Only Faith is an assured pathway to the ethical life

3. Therefore a Universal Faith is the best way to bring humanity to the fulfilment of its real purpose.

This is at the core of our understanding of the nature of our identity as a people, our special election and our ultimate destiny.

In Morality Rabbi Sacks decries the failure of secular philosophy to justify any form of ethics. In this he takes his lead from, the recently deceased, Alasdair MacIntyre whom he considered to be one of the greatest intellectual influences on his own thinking. In his classic work After Virtue Macintyre is scathing about the state of contemporary ethical thought. He explains why academic philosophers are content with regurgitating failed arguments; remarking with bitter irony:

To cry out that the emperor had no clothes on was at least to pick on one man only to the amusement of everyone else; to declare that almost everyone is dressed in rags is much less likely to be popular.

Abandoning reason as a source of morality, Macintyre argues:

(We) are never able to seek for the good or exercise the virtues only qua individual ... we all approach our own circumstances as bearers of a particular social identity. I am someone’s son or daughter, a citizen of this or that city. I belong to this clan, that tribe, this nation. ... I inherit from the past of my family, my city, my tribe, my nation, a variety of debts, inheritances, expectations and obligations.

This opens the door to a new approach to ethics: nations and communities are the bearers of their own morality, tested and refined through history. Rapaciousness is rewarded with intellectual and historical failure, while virtue brings enduring intellectual success and improbable survival. The morality of the Bible - as interpreted by generations of Jewish thinkers - has been challenged both in books and in the gas chambers, and it has endured.

We, the Jewish People, are chosen to celebrate the existence of a Creator who gives his Creation a moral purpose. Judaism on one leg, is Morality. That is our Divine Task throughout the year. On every Shabbat and Chag, our focus is on our Holy Task: to educate a new generation who can be entrusted to the protection of this notion of Divine Morality.

And then, after twelve months of intense introspection, Rosh Hashana arrives and we celebrate Judaism’s ultimate purpose. This is the moment of unbounded joy when all of humanity embrace the purpose of Creation, joining as one to affirm the unarguable distinction between good and evil and to do so in the name of the One God.

This, I believe, is the most powerful and satisfying moment in all our liturgy … fade speaker … play Desert Island Discs theme.

Prayorities

Reflections for Yom Kippur

The words of Jonathan Sacks, Abraham Joshua Heschel, Rav Kook, and others open a dialogue across generations. They do not always agree. Differences teach us that the moral life resists simple resolution. But all share the conviction that human life is sacred, that our choices matter. That ethics lies at the heart of religious life.

As we enter Yom Kippur, may these words challenge us to examine not only how we pray but what we prioritise: our responsibilities to our people, our nation, and to all humanity created in the image of God.

ON THE ETHICS OF WAR

Avot DeRabbi Natan 23:1

Ben Zoma would say: Who is the strongest of all? One who is able to conquer his desire, as it says (Proverbs 16:32), “Better to be forbearing than mighty, to have self-control than to conquer a city.” ... And some say: One who can turn an enemy into his friend.

INCLUSIVE ETHICS

Rav Yehuda Amital explains that some matters were deliberately not framed as binding commandments. Instead, they are left as expressions of middat chasidut - מידת חסידות - voluntary acts of righteousness, so as to cultivate moral growth.

By contrast, a prime example of a binding commandment is: “And you shall love your neighbour as yourself” - ואהבת לרעך כמוך (Vayikra 19:18). Rashi cites Midrash Torat Kohanim (Kedoshim 2:4), where Rabbi Akiva calls this “a great principle of the Torah.” Yet Ben Azzai insists that an even greater principle is found in “This is the book of the generations of Adam” - זה ספר תולדות אדם (Bereshit 5:1), for it speaks to the dignity of all humanity.

From this comparison, Rav Amital highlights that our ethical tradition, while rooted within Israel, is inherently inclusive of all humankind.

MANY NATIONS BUT ONLY ONE HUMANITY

Babylonian Talmud Gittin 61a

The rabbis taught: “Provide for the poor of the gentiles with the poor of Israel, and visit the sick of the gentiles with the sick of Israel, and bury the dead of the Gentiles with the dead of Israel; for these are the paths of peace.”

Here the Sages extend the circle of care beyond the Jewish people, grounding universal responsibility in the pursuit of peace.

Lord Jakobovits echoed this expansive moral vision in his Templeton Prize address (27 May 1991): “Religion remains our principal defence against the erosion of moral values … Religion is also the best custodian of the national value system.”

Together, these voices, rabbinic and modern, affirm that Jewish ethics is not parochial. It is rooted in Torah yet embraces the welfare of all humanity, insisting that religion must safeguard universal moral values.

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

The Dignity of Difference, 2002

“Can we recognise God’s image in one who is not in my image? … Can I, a Jew, hear the echo of Gods voice in that of a Hindu, an Indian, a Sikh or Christian or Muslim?” p. 17

“The test of faith is whether I can make space for difference. Can I recognise God’s image in someone who is not in my image, whose language, faith, ideals are different from mine? … If I cannot, then I have made God in my image instead of allowing Him to remake me in His.” p. 201

WE ARE DEFINED BY COMMUNITY

Alasdair MacIntyre

After Virtue, 1981.

Chief Rabbi Sacks considered this one of the seminal texts of contemporary ethics and quoted it on many occasions.

“The story of my life is always embedded in the story of those communities from which I derive my identity. I am born with a past; and to try to cut myself off from that past, in the individualist mode, is to deform my present relationships.”

THE UNIVERSAL GOOD

Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook

Orot HaKodesh, vol. III, 1943

“The universal good - the good of all and for all - does not belong to one nation or one individual alone, but to the whole of existence. Whenever a nation or an individual strives to keep this good for themselves, they sin and corrupt both themselves and the world. Love of creatures and love of humanity must extend to all, and within that, the love of one’s own nation and its uniqueness is clarified.” p. 326

THE CRISIS IN ETHICAL THINKING

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

Morality: Restoring the Common Good in Divided Times, 2020

“Something happened to morality. When I went as an undergraduate to Cambridge University in the late 1960’s, the philosophy course was called moral sciences, meaning that just like natural sciences morality was an objective, real part of the external world. I soon discovered though that almost no one believed this anymore: morality was held to be no more than the expression of emotion or subjective feeling or private intuition or autonomous choice; it is whatever I choose it to be. To me this seemed less like civilization than the breakdown of civilization.”

Elie Wiesel

The Judges: A Novel, 2007, p. 188

“If the only prayer you say throughout your life is “Thank You”, then that will be enough.” p.188

“Only fanatics — in religion as well as in politics — can find a meaning in someone else’s death.” p. 201

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism, 1955

“Self-respect is the root of discipline: The sense of dignity grows with the ability to say no to oneself.

Traditionally Attributed to Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel

“Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement... get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.”

“It is customary to blame secular science and anti-religious philosophy for the eclipse of religion in modern society. It would be more honest to blame religion for its own defeats. Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid. When faith is completely replaced by creed, worship by discipline, love by habit; when the crisis of today is ignored because of the splendor of the past; when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion--its message becomes meaningless.”

The Divine Wood and less Divine Trees - A View from the Tenach

Elkan Adler, for the Jewish Ethics Project

It is a mainstay of our belief that the Tenach speaks within its historical context but also for the contemporary world. Saying that of course, no modern, orthodox view can limit itself to the Tenach. Doing so would sideline the Torah she b'al peh (the oral Tradition), Chazal and the great Mesorah of thought which has developed since the Sanhedrin canonised the Tenach. However over recent centuries. classic Orthodox education has primarily focussed on areas other than the Tenach (with the exception of the weekly Parsha). It's a study for another time what are the historical, cultural and political reasons that created this situation, but with the blossoming of a religious Zionist community in Israel, there has been a re-engagement with the Tenach to understand particularly the pshat[1] as championed by many Rishonim (medieval commentators)  before moving on to other levels of exegesis. Here I  focus on the ethical stance written into  our foundational texts, which forms the backbone to our Judaism.

RITES DONE WRONG

One of the things which struck me when I started serious study of Tenach is the radical attitude adopted by a number of the Nevi’im (Prophets) towards the temple service, the Korbonos and religious rites , driven by the concern that the very rituals which are supposed to inspire us can act as a “religious” screen to unethical behaviour. Of course ever since the destruction of the second Beis Hamikdosh in Jerusalem, we have not been in the position to engage in the Avodah (the Temple service). But despite having to  to contend with the physical loss and calamitous suffering of the destruction, our leaders  instituted an authentic “replacement” for the Avodah/the Temple Service: the Prophet Yechezkel (11:16) in Babylonian exiletalks of the “Mikdash Me’at” (the small sanctuary) which has become understood as a reference to our Synagogues and Chazal have temporarily established our prayers in place of the Korbonos. For us now, Prayers are the Korbonos and the Shul is the Beis Hamikdosh. Yet the synagogue service too, when performed perfunctorily, can serve as a cover for ethical failings.  

Indeed, our Mesorah has highlighted some of these jarring passages in our Haftorahs that highlight this danger, especially around the times of year which encourage introspection such as the  three weeks and Rosh Hashono/Yom Kippur. A prime example is the Haftorah for Shabbes Chazon from Yeshayahu[2], on the Shabbes immediately preceding Tisha b’Av when we mourn in the rawest fashion the loss of the Beis Hamikdosh:

Hear the word of God, You chieftains of Sodom; Give ear to our God’s teaching, You people of Amorah! “What need have I of all your sacrifices? ”Says God. “……Bring no more empty gifts, the ,incense is offensive to Me. Rosh Chodesh and Shabbes, the Yom Tovs you proclaim - I can’t stand these sins and gatherings, Proclaiming of solemnities, Assemblies with iniquity I cannot abide…..And when you lift up your hands, I will turn My eyes away from you; Though you pray at length, I will not listen…… .Stop doing evil; Learn to do good, seek justice, correct what is cruel, do justice for orphans, fight the widow’s cause….

Zion shall be redeemed through justice and those that return to her with righteousness.

(י) שִׁמְע֥וּ דְבַר־ה׳ קְצִינֵ֣י סְדֹ֑ם הַאֲזִ֛ינוּ תּוֹרַ֥ת אֱלֹקֵ֖ינוּ עַ֥ם עֲמֹרָֽה׃ (יא) לָמָּה־לִּ֤י רֹב־זִבְחֵיכֶם֙ יֹאמַ֣ר ה׳ שָׂבַ֛עְתִּי עֹל֥וֹת אֵילִ֖ים וְחֵ֣לֶב מְרִיאִ֑ים וְדַ֨ם פָּרִ֧ים וּכְבָשִׂ֛ים וְעַתּוּדִ֖ים לֹ֥א חָפָֽצְתִּי׃ (יב) כִּ֣י תָבֹ֔אוּ לֵֽרָא֖וֹת פָּנָ֑י מִֽי־בִקֵּ֥שׁ זֹ֛את מִיֶּדְכֶ֖ם רְמֹ֥ס חֲצֵרָֽי׃ (יג) לֹ֣א תוֹסִ֗יפוּ הָבִיא֙ מִנְחַת־שָׁ֔וְא קְטֹ֧רֶת תּוֹעֵבָ֛ה הִ֖יא לִ֑י חֹ֤דֶשׁ וְשַׁבָּת֙ קְרֹ֣א מִקְרָ֔א לֹא־אוּכַ֥ל אָ֖וֶן וַעֲצָרָֽה׃ (יד) חׇדְשֵׁיכֶ֤ם וּמֽוֹעֲדֵיכֶם֙ שָֽׂנְאָ֣ה נַפְשִׁ֔י הָי֥וּ עָלַ֖י לָטֹ֑רַח נִלְאֵ֖יתִי נְשֹֽׂא׃ (טו) וּבְפָרִשְׂכֶ֣ם כַּפֵּיכֶ֗ם אַעְלִ֤ים עֵינַי֙ מִכֶּ֔ם גַּ֛ם כִּֽי־תַרְבּ֥וּ תְפִלָּ֖ה אֵינֶ֣נִּי שֹׁמֵ֑עַ יְדֵיכֶ֖ם דָּמִ֥ים מָלֵֽאוּ׃ (טז) רַֽחֲצוּ֙ הִזַּכּ֔וּ הָסִ֛ירוּ רֹ֥עַ מַעַלְלֵיכֶ֖ם מִנֶּ֣גֶד עֵינָ֑י חִדְל֖וּ הָרֵֽעַ׃ (יז) לִמְד֥וּ הֵיטֵ֛ב דִּרְשׁ֥וּ מִשְׁפָּ֖ט אַשְּׁר֣וּ חָמ֑וֹץ שִׁפְט֣וּ יָת֔וֹם רִ֖יבוּ אַלְמָנָֽה

צִיּ֖וֹן בְּמִשְׁפָּ֣ט תִּפָּדֶ֑ה וְשָׁבֶ֖יהָ בִּצְדָקָֽה

There is of course no suggestion of a rejection of sacrifices nor the rites but there is a “contextualisation of worship that defines acceptable offerings as those accompanied by a broken spirit, purchased with honest gains and offered by members of a moral society who values are righteous and just.”[3]

Albeit not a Haftorah but on the topic of confusing ritual objects for meaning, is the very painful picture painted in Chapter 4 of the book of Shmuel I. Here Am Yisroel go into doomed battle against the Pelishtim, leading with the Oron (Ark of the Covenant), sure that this Holy thing would conjure some type of magic to bring victory and force Hashem’s hand, regardless of their own conduct. They fail and the Pelishtim seize the Oron. This dismal approach is matched perhaps only by the description of Eli, the aged Cohen Gadol leader, whose response to the news of defeat indicates that the loss of the Oron was more important to him than the battle losses including the death of his own sons! This leader’s fixation on a box, an ark – even when it is the Ark – a Holy object, part of a rite and ritual which is supposed to inspire us to a higher purpose, becoming perverted to take a meaning of its own, trumping even the value of human life, is soaked in bitter irony.

Consider also, the poignant Haftorah for Yom Kippur, again from Yeshayahu[4], where the Novi criticises not only the Korbonos but the meaninglessness of fasts if they neither trigger a genuine attitude change nor a move to create a society based on amongst other things, social justice.

To be sure, they seek Me day after day ,Eager to learn My ways. Like a nation that does what is right and never abandoned its God’s justice   They ask Me for the right way, They say being close to God is all that interests them. “Why, when we fasted, did You not see? When we starved our bodies, did You pay no heed?” Because even on your fast day You see to your business and oppress all your labourers!....Is such the fast I desire, a day for people to starve their bodies? Is it bowing the head like a bulrush and lying in sackcloth and ashes? Do you call that a fast, a day when God is favourable? No, this is the fast I desire: To Loosen the bindings of evil ,break the slavery chain, to let the oppressed go free; to break off every yoke. It is to share your bread with the hungry and to take the wretched poor into your home; when you see the naked, to clothe them and not to ignore your own kin…. .If you banish the yoke from your midst, The menacing hand, and evil speech, And you offer your compassion to the hungry And satisfy the famished creature—Then shall your light shine in darkness and your gloom shall be like noonday.

(ב) וְאוֹתִ֗י י֥וֹם יוֹם֙ יִדְרֹשׁ֔וּן וְדַ֥עַת דְּרָכַ֖י יֶחְפָּצ֑וּן כְּג֞וֹי אֲשֶׁר־צְדָקָ֣ה עָשָׂ֗ה וּמִשְׁפַּ֤ט אֱלֹקָיו֙ לֹ֣א עָזָ֔ב יִשְׁאָל֙וּנִי֙ מִשְׁפְּטֵי־צֶ֔דֶק קִרְבַ֥ת אֱלֹקִ֖ים יֶחְפָּצֽוּן׃ (ג) לָ֤מָּה צַּ֙מְנוּ֙ וְלֹ֣א רָאִ֔יתָ עִנִּ֥ינוּ נַפְשֵׁ֖נוּ וְלֹ֣א תֵדָ֑ע הֵ֣ן בְּי֤וֹם צֹֽמְכֶם֙ תִּמְצְאוּ־חֵ֔פֶץ וְכׇל־עַצְּבֵיכֶ֖ם תִּנְגֹּֽשׂוּ׃ (ד) הֵ֣ן לְרִ֤יב וּמַצָּה֙ תָּצ֔וּמוּ וּלְהַכּ֖וֹת בְּאֶגְרֹ֣ף רֶ֑שַׁע לֹא־תָצ֣וּמוּ כַיּ֔וֹם לְהַשְׁמִ֥יעַ בַּמָּר֖וֹם קוֹלְכֶֽם׃ (ה) הֲכָזֶ֗ה יִֽהְיֶה֙ צ֣וֹם אֶבְחָרֵ֔הוּ י֛וֹם עַנּ֥וֹת אָדָ֖ם נַפְשׁ֑וֹ הֲלָכֹ֨ף כְּאַגְמֹ֜ן רֹאשׁ֗וֹ וְשַׂ֤ק וָאֵ֙פֶר֙ יַצִּ֔יעַ הֲלָזֶה֙ תִּקְרָא־צ֔וֹם וְי֥וֹם רָצ֖וֹן לַה׳׃ (ו) הֲל֣וֹא זֶה֮ צ֣וֹם אֶבְחָרֵ֒הוּ֒ פַּתֵּ֙חַ֙ חַרְצֻבּ֣וֹת רֶ֔שַׁע הַתֵּ֖ר אֲגֻדּ֣וֹת מוֹטָ֑ה וְשַׁלַּ֤ח רְצוּצִים֙ חׇפְשִׁ֔ים וְכׇל־מוֹטָ֖ה תְּנַתֵּֽקוּ׃ (ז) הֲל֨וֹא פָרֹ֤ס לָרָעֵב֙ לַחְמֶ֔ךָ וַעֲנִיִּ֥ים מְרוּדִ֖ים תָּ֣בִיא בָ֑יִת כִּֽי־תִרְאֶ֤ה עָרֹם֙ וְכִסִּית֔וֹ וּמִבְּשָׂרְךָ֖ לֹ֥א תִתְעַלָּֽם׃ (ח) אָ֣ז יִבָּקַ֤ע כַּשַּׁ֙חַר֙ אוֹרֶ֔ךָ וַאֲרֻֽכָתְךָ֖ מְהֵרָ֣ה תִצְמָ֑ח וְהָלַ֤ךְ לְפָנֶ֙יךָ֙ צִדְקֶ֔ךָ כְּב֥וֹד ה׳ יַאַסְפֶֽךָ׃ (ט) אָ֤ז תִּקְרָא֙ וַה׳ יַעֲנֶ֔ה תְּשַׁוַּ֖ע וְיֹאמַ֣ר הִנֵּ֑נִי אִם־תָּסִ֤יר מִתּֽוֹכְךָ֙ מוֹטָ֔ה שְׁלַ֥ח אֶצְבַּ֖ע וְדַבֶּר־אָֽוֶן׃ (י) וְתָפֵ֤ק לָֽרָעֵב֙ נַפְשֶׁ֔ךָ וְנֶ֥פֶשׁ נַעֲנָ֖ה תַּשְׂבִּ֑יעַ וְזָרַ֤ח בַּחֹ֙שֶׁךְ֙ אוֹרֶ֔ךָ וַאֲפֵלָתְךָ֖ כַּֽצׇּהֳרָֽיִם׃

“Hashem doesn’t need to be fed with our sacrifices. He doesn’t have His ‘mind changed’ by our Prayers… but He does instruct us to follow an ethical path and create a society of social justice... for that is to ‘understand and know Him’ in these ‘He delights’.”

Also Amos prophesying to the Northern Kingdom calling out the ironic picture of people too “religious” to work on Shabbes (and Rosh Chodesh – formerly treated as a Yom Tov) but looking forward to nightfall, so that they can get back to their regular activities which result in the oppression of the weak.[5] Missing the Divine wood for the trees with such a disastrous consequence:

Listen to this, you who devour the needy, annihilating the poor of the land, saying, “If only the new moon were over, so that we could sell grain; the Sabbath, so that we could offer wheat for sale, using an ephah that is too small, and a shekel that is too big, tilting a dishonest scale,  and selling grain refuse as grain! We will buy the poor for silver, the needy for a pair of shoes.

(ד) שִׁמְעוּ־זֹ֕את הַשֹּׁאֲפִ֖ים אֶבְי֑וֹן וְלַשְׁבִּ֖ית (ענוי)[עֲנִיֵּי־]אָֽרֶץ׃ (ה) לֵאמֹ֗ר מָתַ֞י יַעֲבֹ֤ר הַחֹ֙דֶשׁ֙ וְנַשְׁבִּ֣ירָה שֶּׁ֔בֶר וְהַשַּׁבָּ֖ת וְנִפְתְּחָה־בָּ֑ר לְהַקְטִ֤ין אֵיפָה֙ וּלְהַגְדִּ֣יל שֶׁ֔קֶל וּלְעַוֵּ֖ת מֹאזְנֵ֥י מִרְמָֽה׃ (ו) לִקְנ֤וֹת בַּכֶּ֙סֶף֙ דַּלִּ֔ים וְאֶבְי֖וֹן בַּעֲב֣וּר נַעֲלָ֑יִם וּמַפַּ֥ל בַּ֖ר נַשְׁבִּֽיר

Those left after the destruction of the Northern Kingdom in the shrunken Kingdom of Yehuda, seem to have held on to the belief that as the Beis Hamikdosh in Jerusalem was the “House of God” it would never be destroyed - regardless. Listen to Hashem’s instruction to Yirmiyahu[6]:

“This is what Hashem God of Hosts, the God of Israel says: ‘Mend your ways and your actions, and I will let you dwell in this place. Don’t put your trust in illusions and say,  “Heychal Hashem” (Temple of God), “Heychal Hashem”, “Heychal Hashem.”  No, if you really mend your ways and your actions; if you execute justice between one party and another; if you do not oppress the stranger, the orphan, and the widow; if you do not shed the blood of the innocent in this place; if you do not follow other gods, to your own hurt— then only will I let you dwell in this place, in the land that I gave to your ancestors for all time.  See, you are relying on illusions that are of no avail. Will you steal and murder and commit adultery and swear falsely, and sacrifice to Baal, and follow other Gods whom you have not experienced, and then come and stand before Me in this House that bears My name and say, “We are safe”?— to do all these abhorrent things! Do you consider this House, which bears My name, to be a den of thieves..?’

(ג) כֹּֽה־אָמַ֞ר ה׳ צְבָאוֹת֙ אֱלֹהֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל הֵיטִ֥יבוּ דַרְכֵיכֶ֖ם וּמַעַלְלֵיכֶ֑ם וַאֲשַׁכְּנָ֣ה אֶתְכֶ֔ם בַּמָּק֖וֹם הַזֶּֽה׃ (ד) אַל־תִּבְטְח֣וּ לָכֶ֔ם אֶל־דִּבְרֵ֥י הַשֶּׁ֖קֶר לֵאמֹ֑ר הֵיכַ֤ל ה׳ הֵיכַ֣ל ה׳ הֵיכַ֥ל ה׳ הֵֽמָּה׃ (ה) כִּ֤י אִם־הֵיטֵיב֙ תֵּיטִ֔יבוּ אֶת־דַּרְכֵיכֶ֖ם וְאֶת־מַעַלְלֵיכֶ֑ם אִם־עָשׂ֤וֹ תַֽעֲשׂוּ֙ מִשְׁפָּ֔ט בֵּ֥ין אִ֖ישׁ וּבֵ֥ין רֵעֵֽהוּ׃ (ו) גֵּ֣ר יָת֤וֹם וְאַלְמָנָה֙ לֹ֣א תַעֲשֹׁ֔קוּ וְדָ֣ם נָקִ֔י אַֽל־תִּשְׁפְּכ֖וּ בַּמָּק֣וֹם הַזֶּ֑ה וְאַחֲרֵ֨י אֱלֹהִ֧ים אֲחֵרִ֛ים לֹ֥א תֵלְכ֖וּ לְרַ֥ע לָכֶֽם׃ (ז) וְשִׁכַּנְתִּ֤י אֶתְכֶם֙ בַּמָּק֣וֹם הַזֶּ֔ה בָּאָ֕רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר נָתַ֖תִּי לַאֲבוֹתֵיכֶ֑ם לְמִן־עוֹלָ֖ם וְעַד־עוֹלָֽם׃ (ח) הִנֵּ֤ה אַתֶּם֙ בֹּטְחִ֣ים לָכֶ֔ם עַל־דִּבְרֵ֖י הַשָּׁ֑קֶר לְבִלְתִּ֖י הוֹעִֽיל׃ (ט) הֲגָנֹ֤ב ׀ רָצֹ֙חַ֙ וְֽנָאֹ֔ף וְהִשָּׁבֵ֥עַ לַשֶּׁ֖קֶר וְקַטֵּ֣ר לַבָּ֑עַל וְהָלֹ֗ךְ אַחֲרֵ֛י אֱלֹהִ֥ים אֲחֵרִ֖ים אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹֽא־יְדַעְתֶּֽם׃ (י) וּבָאתֶ֞ם וַעֲמַדְתֶּ֣ם לְפָנַ֗י בַּבַּ֤יִת הַזֶּה֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר נִקְרָֽא־שְׁמִ֣י עָלָ֔יו וַאֲמַרְתֶּ֖ם נִצַּ֑לְנוּ לְמַ֣עַן עֲשׂ֔וֹת אֵ֥ת כׇּל־הַתּוֹעֵב֖וֹת הָאֵֽלֶּה׃ (יא) הַֽמְעָרַ֣ת פָּרִצִ֗ים הָיָ֨ה הַבַּ֧יִת הַזֶּ֛ה אֲשֶׁר־נִקְרָֽא־שְׁמִ֥י עָלָ֖יו בְּעֵינֵיכֶ֑ם

It is of course from Yirmiyahu[7] that we also have the Haftorah on Tisha b’Av. Our Mesorah challenges us to read it in the depth of mourning; it powerfully, clearly and categorically sets out what Hashem is “looking for” and what it means to “know Hashem.”[8] Note also that this is not just applying these values amongst ourselves but is a universal instruction to us – “in the world.”

“Thus says God: ‘Let not the wise glory in their wisdom ;Let not the strong glory in their strength; Let not the rich glory in their riches. But only in this should one glory: Understand and know Me. For I God act with kindness, justice, and righteousness (Chesed Mishpot and Tzedokoh) in the world; For in these I delight’—declares God.

כב) כֹּ֣ה ׀ אָמַ֣ר ה׳ אַל־יִתְהַלֵּ֤ל חָכָם֙ בְּחׇכְמָת֔וֹ וְאַל־יִתְהַלֵּ֥ל הַגִּבּ֖וֹר בִּגְבוּרָת֑וֹ אַל־יִתְהַלֵּ֥ל עָשִׁ֖יר בְּעׇשְׁרֽוֹ׃ (כג) כִּ֣י אִם־בְּזֹ֞את יִתְהַלֵּ֣ל הַמִּתְהַלֵּ֗ל הַשְׂכֵּל֮ וְיָדֹ֣עַ אוֹתִי֒ כִּ֚י אֲנִ֣י ה׳ עֹ֥שֶׂה חֶ֛סֶד מִשְׁפָּ֥ט וּצְדָקָ֖ה בָּאָ֑רֶץ כִּֽי־בְאֵ֥לֶּה חָפַ֖צְתִּי נְאֻם־ה׳׃

Hashem doesn’t need to be fed with our sacrifices. He doesn’t have His mind changed by our Prayers. Those are Pagan beliefs. Hashem lacks nothing and won’t be bribed or nagged into submission but He does instruct us to follow an ethical path and create a society of social justice – Chesed Tzedokoh and Mishpot for that is to “understand and know Him” in these “He delights”. This underlies His Torah and all the Mitzvos.

My Rosh Yeshiva (Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush) R’Yehuda Amital zt’l,[9] spoke of his dismay that the fear of the outside world  had led to a conservative drive in the religious world, including the religious Zionist community, to embrace halocho as the key component of Torah life – what chumrah must I take in kashrus, what extra aspect of the laws of Shabbes can I assume this year. He laments the deprioritisation or ignorance of the broad Torah values such as  Vayikrah 19,2 (2) “Speak to the whole Israelite community and say to them: You shall be holy, for I, your G-d, am holy” ((ב) דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־כׇּל־עֲדַ֧ת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֥ אֲלֵהֶ֖ם קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י ה׳ אֱלֹקֵיכֶֽם׃)and Devorim 6,18 “Do what is right and good in the sight of Hashem” (יח) וְעָשִׂ֛יתָ הַיָּשָׁ֥ר וְהַטּ֖וֹב בְּעֵינֵ֣י ה׳)) These are values which the Torah makes clear are requisites, underpinning  that very religious life.  Expressing the concern that a life focussed only on the minutiae of ritual practice can miss the wood for the trees, even if it looks “frum”.

To be clear, per R’Etshalom’s quote above, there is God forbid no intent implied to countenance a non Halachic  way of life, rather a recognition of the need to ensure that it is imbued with the values and meaning of the Torah.

Back to Yirmiyahu and “Heychal Hashem”, note that the recipients of these messages given in front of the Beis Hamikdosh were the supposedly “frum” ones who bothered to attend. They may have been the “Shul goers”  of their time[10] but, although physically present in the Temple confines, they were so blinded by the rite, the ceremonies, the tradition and the majesty of the building and everything associated with it, that they could not see that, without internalising the meaning, they were actors in or spectators of a superficial show. Are our Shul going and adherence to prescribed mitzvos any different if they are empty of meaning? How do we expect Hashem to attribute deep value to our Shul services, our Communities, our “frum’ way of life or our most dear State of Israel, if they are not ways to walk in the footsteps of our foremothers and fathers and seek to make the world a more Divine and therefore better place?

“Without an ethical drive, it is clearly not the religion of the Torah which requires us to follow in the footsteps of Avrohom and our spiritual forbears who readily and courageously answered Hashem’s call with ‘Heneni’ to assume the role of making the world a better and more ethical place.”

AVROHOM’S DESCENDANTS

Hashem chose Avrohom, as the Torah says because he would follow the way of Hashem:[11] Hashem said, , “Shall I hide from Avrohom what I am about to do, since Avrohom is to become a great and mighty nation and all the nations of the earth are to bless themselves by him? For I have chosen him that he may instruct his children and his household after him  to keep the way of Hashem by pursuing righteousness (Tzedek)  and justice (Mishpot)…” יז) וַֽה׳ אָמָ֑ר הַֽמְכַסֶּ֤ה אֲנִי֙ מֵֽאַבְרָהָ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֖ר אֲנִ֥י עֹשֶֽׂה׃ (יח) וְאַ֨בְרָהָ֔ם הָי֧וֹ יִֽהְיֶ֛ה לְג֥וֹי גָּד֖וֹל וְעָצ֑וּם וְנִ֨בְרְכוּ־ב֔וֹ כֹּ֖ל גּוֹיֵ֥י הָאָֽרֶץ׃ (יט) כִּ֣י יְדַעְתִּ֗יו לְמַ֩עַן֩ אֲשֶׁ֨ר יְצַוֶּ֜ה אֶת־בָּנָ֤יו וְאֶת־בֵּיתוֹ֙ אַחֲרָ֔יו וְשָֽׁמְרוּ֙ דֶּ֣רֶךְ ה׳ לַעֲשׂ֥וֹת צְדָקָ֖ה וּמִשְׁפָּ֑ט). We learn this as Hashem is “in the process of deciding” whether Sodom and Amorah need to be destroyed[12], which He reveals to Avrohom, triggering him to argue with God on behalf of Justice/Mishpot not to kill the innocent with the guilty.  Hashem chooses Avrohom to initiate the Chosen People because his descendants are to follow in his moral footsteps, to be seekers of justice and righteousness and one day to create societies driven by those values to inspire others too.

So, when the prophet Amos warns the Northern Kingdom that they face destruction because of the corruption in their society and treatment of the weak, he specifically refers to  the terminology of Avrohom’s choosing – Justice and Righteousness - (5:23-24  “Get away from Me the noise of your songs; I won’t listen to the tunes of your harps but let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream” - (כג) הָסֵ֥ר מֵעָלַ֖י הֲמ֣וֹן שִׁרֶ֑יךָ וְזִמְרַ֥ת נְבָלֶ֖יךָ לֹ֥א אֶשְׁמָֽע׃ (כד) וְיִגַּ֥ל כַּמַּ֖יִם מִשְׁפָּ֑ט וּצְדָקָ֖ה כְּנַ֥חַל אֵיתָֽן hoping to jolt them (and the reader) to re-consider paths they have chosen.

We are the “chosen people” as we are chosen to walk the path of Avrohom and the way of Hashem. We were taken out of Egypt for a purpose[13]. Making a kiddush Hashem to the World is a central tenet of Torah life. It is of course true that this is not always possible and so Yitzchak had to wait until he had re-opened the final well which Avrohom had dug before finally being at peace with his neighbours (and calling it Shalva) allowing him to “call out in Hashem’s name”: Yaakov’s plans to use Beis El as the basis for doing the same are thwarted by Shimon and Levi’s actions over Shechem which led to the family being hated by the locals: and Dovid Hamelech was not able to build the Beis Hamikdosh in part because he was “a man of war”, as opposed to Shlomo, a man of peace. In each case however, the Tenach makes it quite clear that drive was nevertheless there to make a kiddush Hashem, thereby spreading the concept of a universal, monotheistic, ethical God who made all of humanity in His image. For example, The book of Shmuel seems to go out of its way to emphasise that Dovid constantly looked to Hashem and that he also (ultimately) developed the moral sensitivity to deal compassionately with everyone – Jew and non Jew alike.[14]

The more one learns these sources, the more it becomes apparent that looking outward to a better world for all (not by conquest but through the example of ethical behaviour – in other words, per Zechariah 4:6 “This is the word of God to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit—said God of Hosts.” -  זֶ֚ה דְּבַר־ה׳ אֶל־זְרֻבָּבֶ֖ל לֵאמֹ֑ר לֹ֤א בְחַ֙יִל֙ וְלֹ֣א בְכֹ֔חַ כִּ֣י אִם־בְּרוּחִ֔י אָמַ֖ר ה׳ צְבָאֽוֹת)[15] is fundamental to our charge. Indeed the first Haftorah of the Torah reading cycle in Bereishis, containing the story of the creation of the whole world, is Yishiyahu’s clarion call to be a “light unto the nations[16]” and the next Haftorah for Parshas Noach calls the flood “Noach’s flood”, which is understood by many as blaming the flood on that man of the Ark who, notwithstanding that he could see the ills of that generation and knew of the impending doom, kept to himself and family, doing nothing to save the others. This brings us back around, closing the circle with the Parsha of Lech Lecho and Hashem’s call to Avrohom to go out and make the kiddush Hashem to the world and be a “blessing” to others.

TODAY

We are living through incredibly tough times with the type of urgent, moral questions which we have not had to face for two thousand years. We are now in a position to build ethical societies and communities both abroad, as well as, in the State of Israel. There are obviously competing values, self defence being a key one. We have just suffered the worst attacks since the Holocaust! However if we are not at least gearing our thoughts and prayers to that kiddush Hashem with which Hashem charged Avrohom and “his family after him” (or at the very least not to make a chilul Hashem), if we are not challenging ourselves and our leaders accordingly but rather getting lost in a compassionless and inward looking spiral which allows us to hide behind hatred and a multiplicity of good reasons, not to reach for our raison d’etre, then what are we doing?

Are we really internalising the Divine prophecies cited above from Amos, Yishayahu and Yirmiyahu. who call out as an affront to Hashem the practice of rites and mitzvos without fulfilling their meaning and whilst not attempting to create a more just society? Can we really pretend to be walking in Hashem’s ways if we are e.g. neither looking to help the poor nor dealing with injustices and abuse in our own community or in Israel, be it against women, children or the other? How can we claim that it is a proper representation of Chesed, Tzedokoh and Mishpot not e.g. to advocate for the Uyghurs or to help the local homeless? How is a sole focus on our own tragedy in Israel without an attempt to alleviate the suffering of any innocent humans be they in Gaza, Yehudah, Shomron, Ra’nana or London following in the footsteps of Avrohom?

So as we “practice” our Judaism, these Tenach texts strongly encourage us to carefully consider how we are able to contribute to that vision of a better world. We are being challenged to adhere to a Divine ethical drive, both inward and outward looking, following in the footsteps of Avrohom and our spiritual forbears who readily and courageously answered Hashem’s call with “Heneni” to assume the role of making the world a better and more ethical place by seeking opportunities to make a kiddush Hashem.

It's hard and yes, really, really hard and at times so unfair because we are asked[17] to hold ourselves up to a higher standard. We also continue to suffer from the oldest hatred. So we the Jews probably do have it harder than anyone else but who said it was supposed to be easy? After all, we are all a part of the Chosen People.[18]

Aren’t we?

[1] The reading which is closest to the text as written by the prophet or Gd directly.

[2] Yishayahu 1:10-18, 27

[3]  To quote my teacher R’ Yitzchak Etshalom in his monumental work on the Book of Amos (Koren 2025)

[4] 58: 2-14

[5] 8:4-6

[6] 7: 3-11

[7] 9:22-23

[8]  See also the culmination of Rambam’s Moreh Nevuchim 3:53.

[9] From a Droshoh given at Kenes Lavi, Sukkos 2005 (quoted in 125 of “Ever Be Human” 2024 Miskal – Yediot Acharonot Books and Chemed Books)

[10] A point first made to me by my teacher Rav Menachem Liebtag

[11] Bereishis 18 17- 20

[12] Their sin being that their society did not help the poor and the needy (Yechezkel 16:14). Note also Yishiyahu’s reference to Am Yisroel being akin to Sodom and Amorah in his warning of destruction quoted above.

[13] Contrast Amos 3:1-2 “You only have I known of all the families of the  Earth,,,,” - (א) שִׁמְע֞וּ אֶת־הַדָּבָ֣ר הַזֶּ֗ה אֲשֶׁ֨ר דִּבֶּ֧ר ה׳ עֲלֵיכֶ֖ם בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל עַ֚ל כׇּל־הַמִּשְׁפָּחָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֧ר הֶעֱלֵ֛יתִי מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם לֵאמֹֽר׃ (ב) רַ֚ק אֶתְכֶ֣ם יָדַ֔עְתִּי מִכֹּ֖ל מִשְׁפְּח֣וֹת הָאֲדָמָ֑הreferring to the expectation to act in accordance with our “chosen status” and  “Are you not like the children of Ethiopians to Me, O’Benei Yisroel, says Hashem. Did I not bring up Israel out of the Land of Egypt and the Philistines from Kaftor and Aram from Kir”  - הֲל֣וֹא כִבְנֵי֩ כֻשִׁיִּ֨ים אַתֶּ֥ם לִ֛י בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל נְאֻם־ה׳ הֲל֣וֹא אֶת־יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל הֶעֱלֵ֙יתִי֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם וּפְלִשְׁתִּיִּ֥ים מִכַּפְתּ֖וֹר וַאֲרָ֥ם מִקִּֽיר׃ in 9:7 when we don’t act accordingly – i.e. just one nation amongst any number of others who were moved from one geography to another. See also Da’at Mikrah/Amos Chacham on Amos p.9ff)

[14] For example, in Shmuel II, Dovid’s treatment of the Egyptian slave of the Amalakites, his potential rival Mepiboshes, son of Yehonosson or  the Givonim.

[15] Part of  the Chanukah Haftorah aligning with Chazal’s focus on the spiritual victory rather than the physical battle victory.

[16]  42 5-7 .I created you and appointed you. A covenant people, a light of nations— , to open blinded eyes to bring prisoners from captivity and those who dwell in darkness from their prison” - ה) כֹּה־אָמַ֞ר הָאֵ֣ל ׀ ה׳ בּוֹרֵ֤א הַשָּׁמַ֙יִם֙ וְנ֣וֹטֵיהֶ֔ם רֹקַ֥ע הָאָ֖רֶץ וְצֶאֱצָאֶ֑יהָ נֹתֵ֤ן נְשָׁמָה֙ לָעָ֣ם עָלֶ֔יהָ וְר֖וּחַ לַהֹלְכִ֥ים בָּֽהּ׃ (ו) אֲנִ֧י ה׳ קְרָאתִ֥יךָֽ בְצֶ֖דֶק וְאַחְזֵ֣ק בְּיָדֶ֑ךָ וְאֶצׇּרְךָ֗ וְאֶתֶּנְךָ֛ לִבְרִ֥ית עָ֖ם לְא֥וֹר גּוֹיִֽם׃ (ז) לִפְקֹ֖חַ עֵינַ֣יִם עִוְר֑וֹת לְהוֹצִ֤יא מִמַּסְגֵּר֙ אַסִּ֔יר מִבֵּ֥ית כֶּ֖לֶא יֹ֥שְׁבֵי חֹֽשֶׁךְ

[17] Albeit by God

[18] I think that this is the natural and intended consequence of what the Rambam discusses in Moreh Nevuchim 3:24.

Let Us Search Our Ways

Teshuvah for Ourselves, Others, and the World

By Dr Brian Berenblut, for the Jewish Ethics Project

נַחְפְּשָׂה דְרָכֵינוּ וְנַחְקֹרָה וְנָשׁוּבָה עַד ה׳.

Let us search our ways and examine them, and let us return to the Lord. (Eicha 3:40)

 Born out of the pain of exile, these words appear in the Selichot prayers, in some versions of the Vidui on Yom Kippur, and in the Zichronot section of Mussaf on Rosh Hashanah. They speak to the heart of the Yamim Noraim, not just regret, but reflection, change, and return. Not part way, but עד ה׳ - all the way to God. The verse moves us through three steps: honest awareness, moral transformation, and meaningful return.

 We begin with נַחְפְּשָׂה, - “let us search” - the call to careful and honest self-examination. It is not about harsh self-judgment, but about having the humility to face the truth about ourselves. In particular, we may notice how often our failings show themselves in the way we relate to one another. It means recognising when we have become less sensitive to the needs of others, when we spoke instead of listening, or stayed silent when we should have spoken. It means being willing to challenge the excuses that allowed us to diminish another person’s dignity. Teshuvah starts not with outward actions or feelings of guilt, but with truth, which requires humility.

Then we move onto וְנַחְקֹרָה, - “let us examine” - which takes us deeper. It asks not only what we did, but why. The Yamim Noraim challenge us to ask if we have become the people we ought to be, measured against the standards of justice, compassion, and integrity that Torah calls for. Rav Aharon Lichtenstein taught that teshuvah is not just an opportunity per se; it is the opportunity to amend for all the missed opportunities.[1] Kierkegaard expressed something similar: in The Concept of Anxiety he described anxiety as “the dizziness of freedom,” and in Stages on Life’s Way he portrayed repentance as the highest expression of the ethical life.[2] One modern paraphrase of his thought puts it this way: “The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you will never have.”[3] In our terms, וְנַחְקֹרָה calls us to confront the selves we abandoned and the moral commitments we failed to realise, and to ask whether they can still be brought to life.

Teshuvah here means owning not just isolated acts, but the direction of our lives. It transforms the pain of missed futures into renewed moral purpose, and challenges us to decide whether suffering - our own suffering and that which we witness in others - will harden us or deepen our compassion.

In times of national trauma or conflict, this kind of honesty is harder, but also more urgent. The Torah’s moral vision reminds us that even in self-defence, we must not lose our humanity: “And God created humankind in His image …” (Genesis 1:27). That image is present on both sides of a border, and in every child.

“Teshuvah is not about remaining in regret, but about making the choice to move forward with purpose.”

We culminate with וְנָשׁוּבָה עַד ה׳, - “let us turn back, all the way to the Lord” - a call for real change. עד usually means “up to” or “toward,” but Rav Aharon Lichtenstein suggested that it can also mean turning inward and upward toward God’s very essence. Teshuvah is not a small adjustment but a radical re-orientation of our whole lives. It starts by noticing what we have ignored, deepening as we face who we have become, and moves us to live with greater awareness and responsibility. We look “up to” God in order to chart our personal path to improvement. The Torah describes God’s ways in the language of compassion, patience, justice, and truth: “The Lord, the Lord, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and truth…” (Exodus 34:6). And the Sages teach: “Just as He is merciful, so you shall be merciful; just as He is gracious, so you shall be gracious.”[4]

Teshuvah must extend beyond ourselves and embrace the world around us. The Midrash teaches: “See how beautiful and praiseworthy are My works … Take care not to destroy My world, for if you do, there will be no one after you to repair it.”[5] In our age of ecological crisis, returning to God also means examining how we treat the earth, the air, and the fragile systems that support life. Creation is not just an image or idea, but the living stage on which all human life unfolds. This too is part of teshuvah.

The verse speaks in the plural: let us search, let us examine, let us return. Teshuvah is personal, but never only private. We confess together, sharing responsibility and supporting one another in truth and hope. Communities should live by this same ethic, making space for those on the margins, and building institutions shaped not only by efficiency but by compassion and integrity. Returning עד ה׳ means aiming for our best selves, and doing it together.

Eicha 3:40 calls us to take responsibility, not to seek perfection. Teshuvah is not about remaining in regret, but about choosing to move forward with purpose. Its aim is growth, in ourselves, in our communities, in our care for the world, and in how we treat others, especially those who differ from us. As Rav Kook teaches: “The degree of love in the soul of the righteous embraces all creatures, it excludes nothing, no people and no tongue.[6] By searching, examining, and returning together, we step closer to the Divine image in which we were created.

[1] Aharon Lichtenstein, By His Light: Character and Values in the Service of God, ed. Reuven Ziegler (Alon Shvut: Yeshivat Har Etzion, 2002), 222.

[2] Søren Kierkegaard, The Concept of Anxiety, trans. Reidar Thomte, ed. Albert B. Anderson (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), 61; Stages on Life’s Way, trans. Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong

[3] Widely attributed to Kierkegaard in modern anthologies and quotation collections but not found in his published works.

[4] Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 133b.

[5] Midrash Kohelet Rabbah 7:13.

[6] Rav A. I. Kook, The Moral Principles (Midot Ha‑Raya), trans. Ben Zion Bokser, Paulist Press, 1978.

Ordo Amoris, A Jewish Perspective

By Dr Donald Franklin, for the Jewish Ethics project

Last January, the incoming United States Vice President JD Vance sparked some controversy by invoking the doctrine of ordo amoris to justify giving priority to family and fellow citizens over foreigners: “[Y]ou love your family, and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country, and then after that you can focus and prioritize the rest of the world.” The late Pope, Francis, apparently taking issue with Mr. Vance, wrote in February that “the true ordo amoris that must be promoted is that which we discover by meditating constantly on the parable of the ‘Good Samaritan’ … that is, by meditating on the love that builds a fraternity open to all, without exception.”  Pope Francis, Vance Clash Over ‘Ordo Amoris’| National Catholic Register

What has Judaism to say?  Vice President Vance’s order of love brings to mind the order of priority given in the Talmud in considering who should have priority to receive a charitable loan:

דְּתָנֵי רַב יוֹסֵף: ״אִם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה אֶת עַמִּי אֶת הֶעָנִי עִמָּךְ״. עַמִּי וְגוֹי – עַמִּי קוֹדֵם, עָנִי וְעָשִׁיר – עָנִי קוֹדֵם. ״עֲנִיֶּיךָ וַעֲנִיֵּי עִירֶךָ״ – עֲנִיֶּיךָ קוֹדְמִין, עֲנִיֵּי עִירֶךָ וַעֲנִיֵּי עִיר אַחֶרֶת – עֲנִיֵּי עִירֶךָ קוֹדְמִין

תלמוד בבלי, מסכת בבא מציעא, דף ע"א, עמוד א

… that which Rav Yosef taught: The verse states: “If you lend money to any of My people, even to the poor person who is with you” (Exodus 22:24). The term “My people” teaches that if one of My people, i.e., a Jew, and a gentile both come to borrow money from you, My people take precedence. The term “the poor person” teaches that if a poor person and a rich person come to borrow money, the poor person takes precedence. And from the term: “Who is with you,” it is derived: If your poor person, meaning one of your relatives, and one of the poor of your city come to borrow money, your poor person takes precedence. If it is between one of the poor of your city and one of the poor of another city, the one of the poor of your city takes precedence.

Babylonian Talmud, Baba Metzia 71a

And these rules echo many others that apparently enjoin Jews to favour their fellow Jews over others: taking interest, treatment of servants etc etc.

The ethical justification for thus differentiating between obligations to members of one’s own community and those of others should not be understood as disparaging the humanity of others. Rather it is emphasising the value for the relationships upon which community is built. The philosopher Bernard Williams famously suggested that no calculation was required to justify a man saving his wife rather than a stranger from a fire; a calculation “provides the agent with one thought too many: it might have been hoped by some (for instance by his wife) that his motivating thought fully spelt out, would be the thought that it was his wife …” (“Persons, Character and Morality” in Williams 1981). Prioritisation flows from the nature of the relationship, and the same might be true for the relationships underpinning a strong sense of community, as the Rambam suggests in the following passage paralleling obligations to community with those to close family kin:

וְכָל יִשְׂרָאֵל וְהַנִּלְוֶה עֲלֵיהֶם כְּאַחִים הֵם שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (דברים יד א) "בָּנִים אַתֶּם לַה' אֱלֹהֵיכֶם" וְאִם לֹא יְרַחֵם הָאָח עַל הָאָח מִי יְרַחֵם עָלָיו. וּלְמִי עֲנִיֵּי יִשְׂרָאֵל נוֹשְׂאִין עֵינֵיהֶן. הֲלְעַכּוּ"ם שֶׁשּׂוֹנְאִין אוֹתָן וְרוֹדְפִים אַחֲרֵיהֶן. הָא אֵין עֵינֵיהֶן תְּלוּיוֹת אֶלָּא לַאֲחֵיהֶן
משנה תורה הִלְכוֹת מַתְּנוֹת עֲנִיִּים י:ב

The entire Jewish people and all those who attach themselves to them are as brothers, as [Deuteronomy 14:1] states: "You are children unto God your Lord." And if a brother will not show mercy to a brother, who will show mercy to them? To whom do the poor of Israel lift up their eyes? To the gentiles who hate them and pursue them? Behold their eyes are pointed to their brethren alone.

Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Gifts to the Poor 10.2

***

Nevertheless, there are other perspectives within Judaism.

THE QUALITY OF MERCY IS NOT STRAINED.

First, whilst obligations to deal kindly with fellow members of one’s own community are thus independently motivated by the good of community, compassion towards all fellow creatures is also enjoined. Unlike charity to kin, compassionate treatment of others is not judicable, but neither is it supererogatory. That it is demanded of us is evident in the Rambam’s blandishments at the end of the section on non-Jewish servants detailing the legal rights of a master to treat his non-Jewish servant harshly… (I translate עבד as servant as a more respectful term, and one consistent with the standard translation of Moses’ appellation as עבד נאמן). Note in particular the invocation of Job’s powerful insistence on our common humanity.

מֻתָּר לַעֲבֹד בְּעֶבֶד כְּנַעֲנִי בְּפָרֶךְ. וְאַף עַל פִּי שֶׁהַדִּין כָּךְ מִדַּת חֲסִידוּת וְדַרְכֵי חָכְמָה שֶׁיִּהְיֶה אָדָם רַחְמָן וְרוֹדֵף צֶדֶק וְלֹא יַכְבִּיד עֵלּוֹ עַל עַבְדּוֹ וְלֹא יָצֵר לוֹ וְיַאֲכִילֵהוּ וְיַשְׁקֵהוּ מִכָּל מַאֲכָל וּמִכָּל מִשְׁתֶּה. חֲכָמִים הָרִאשׁוֹנִים הָיוּ נוֹתְנִין לָעֶבֶד מִכָּל תַּבְשִׁיל וְתַבְשִׁיל שֶׁהָיוּ אוֹכְלִין. וּמַקְדִּימִין מְזוֹן הַבְּהֵמוֹת וְהָעֲבָדִים לִסְעוּדַת עַצְמָן. הֲרֵי הוּא אוֹמֵר (תהילים קכג ב) "כְעֵינֵי עֲבָדִים אֶל יַד אֲדוֹנֵיהֶם כְּעֵינֵי שִׁפְחָה אֶל יַד גְּבִרְתָּהּ". וְכֵן לֹא יְבַזֵּהוּ בַּיָּד וְלֹא בִּדְבָרִים. לְעַבְדוּת מְסָרָן הַכָּתוּב לֹא לְבוּשָׁה. וְלֹא יַרְבֶּה עָלָיו צְעָקָה וְכַעַס אֶלָּא יְדַבֵּר עִמּוֹ בְּנַחַת וְיִשְׁמַע טַעֲנוֹתָיו. וְכֵן מְפֹרָשׁ בְּדַרְכֵי אִיּוֹב הַטּוֹבִים שֶׁהִשְׁתַּבֵּחַ בָּהֶן (איוב לא יג) "אִם אֶמְאַס מִשְׁפַּט עַבְדִּי וַאֲמָתִי בְּרִבָם עִמָּדִי" (איוב לא טו) "הֲלֹא בַבֶּטֶן עשֵֹׁנִי עָשָׂהוּ וַיְכֻנֶנּוּ בָּרֶחֶם אֶחָד". וְאֵין הָאַכְזָרִיּוּת וְהָעַזּוּת מְצוּיָה אֶלָּא בְּעַכּוּ"ם עוֹבְדֵי עֲבוֹדָה זָרָה אֲבָל זַרְעוֹ שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ וְהֵם יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁהִשְׁפִּיעַ לָהֶם הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא טוֹבַת הַתּוֹרָה וְצִוָּה אוֹתָם בְּחֻקִּים וּמִשְׁפָּטִים צַדִּיקִים רַחְמָנִים הֵם עַל הַכּל. וְכֵן בְּמִדּוֹתָיו שֶׁל הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא שֶּׁצִּוָּנוּ לְהִדָּמוֹת בָּהֶם הוּא אוֹמֵר (תהילים קמה ט) "וְרַחֲמָיו עַל כָּל מַעֲשָׂיו". וְכָל הַמְרַחֵם מְרַחֲמִין עָלָיו שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (דברים יג יח) "וְנָתַן לְךָ רַחֲמִים וְרִחַמְךָ וְהִרְבֶּךָ"

משנה תורה, הלכות עבדים ט:ח

It is permissible to have a Canaanite servant perform excruciating labour. Although this is the law, the attribute of piety and the way of wisdom is for a person to be merciful and to pursue justice, not to make his servants carry a heavy yoke, nor cause them distress. He should allow them to partake of all the food and drink he serves. […] Similarly, we should not embarrass a servant by our deeds or with words, for the Torah prescribed that they perform service, not that they be humiliated. Nor should one shout or vent anger upon them extensively. Instead, one should speak to them gently, and listen to their claims. This is explicitly stated with regard to the positive paths of Job for which he was praised Job 31:13, 15: "Have I ever shunned justice for my servant and maid-servant when they quarrelled with me.... Did not He who made me in the belly make him? Was it not the One who prepared us in the womb?"
[…] And similarly, with regard to the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He, which He commanded us to emulate, it is written Psalms 145:9: "His mercies are upon all of His works." And whoever shows mercy to others will have mercy shown to him, as implied by Deuteronomy 13:18: "He will show you mercy, and be merciful upon you and multiply you."

Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Laws of Servants, 9:8

THE SCOPE OF OBLIGATIONS OF COMMUNITY INCLUDES NON-JEWISH NEIGHBOURS.

Second, whilst partiality is thus justified to embody community, the relevant concept of community is widened by considerations of peaceful coexistence to include non-Jewish neighbours:

תָּנוּ רַבָּנַן: מְפַרְנְסִים עֲנִיֵּי גוֹיִם עִם עֲנִיֵּי יִשְׂרָאֵל, וּמְבַקְּרִין חוֹלֵי גוֹיִם עִם חוֹלֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, וְקוֹבְרִין מֵתֵי גוֹיִם עִם מֵתֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, מִפְּנֵי דַּרְכֵי שָׁלוֹם

גיטין סא

The rabbis taught: “Provide for the poor of the gentiles with the poor of Israel, and visit the sick of the gentiles with the sick of Israel, and bury the dead of the Gentiles with the dead of Israel; for these are the paths of peace.

Babylonian Talmud Gittin 61a

This is cited verbatim for Halacha by the Rambam (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Gifts to the Poor 7.7) and he accordingly modifies the order of priority for giving alms to the poor from that given above (when prioritising lending), here prioritising family and geographical community only:

עָנִי שֶׁהוּא קְרוֹבוֹ קֹדֶם לְכָל אָדָם. עֲנִיֵּי בֵּיתוֹ קוֹדְמִין לַעֲנִיֵּי עִירוֹ. עֲנִיֵּי עִירוֹ קוֹדְמִין לַעֲנִיֵּי עִיר אַחֶרֶת. שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (דברים טו יא) "לְאָחִיךָ לַעֲנִיֶּךָ וּלְאֶבְיֹנְךָ בְּאַרְצֶךָ"

 משנה תורה הִלְכוֹת מַתְּנוֹת עֲנִיִּים ז:י"ג

A poor person who is one's relative receives priority over all others. The poor of one's household receive priority over the poor of one's city. And the poor of one's city receive priority over the poor of another city, as [implied by Deuteronomy 15:11]: "[You shall surely open your hand to] your brother, the poor, and the destitute in your land."

Maimonides Mishneh Torah, Gifts to the Poor 7.13

The concept of community shows itself to be nuanced: there is a specific and deep bond to be fostered amongst members of the same kehilla and amongst co-religionists more generally; but the community within which the ways of peace, the ultimate blessing of Shalom, are to reign, is evidently defined geographically and inclusively.

This carries implications for personal almsgivings within our local areas around our synagogues (for example, by supporting soup kitchens and food banks locally), and also obviously for welfare provision organised by Jewish communities and by the Jewish state, which should be careful to treat all its citizens equally.

EXIGENCY CARRIES ITS OWN PRIORITY.

Third, the ordo amoris is defeasible in the presence of overwhelming need; that is to say the priority to be given to family, friends and community can be understood to apply in cases of equal need and to be trumped by greater need.

In the Yom Kippur leaflet for JEP this year, Daniel Greenberg quoted “the Tzadik Reb Aryeh Levin who on learning that there was a famine in Africa initiated a collection to help relieve it: when asked whether one could contribute from ma’aser money (tithes) his response was firm: “No, you cannot – so give me some money that is not from ma’aser”.

Reb Aryeh’s response might have been ad hominem: it may be that the questioner could obviously afford to give his tithe to communal charities and then to add further donations for the benefit of those suffering famine in Africa; so there was no need for the latter cause to compromise the former. Or it could be that there is a sort of lexical priority to be given to the inner circle of obligation, so that all pressing needs must be addressed before giving beyond that circle? Even on that interpretation, it seems likely that there is some level of distant need which would indeed trump minor claims on our on charitable funds even from the inner circle. What would have been Reb Aryeh’s response to someone who really couldn’t afford more than their ma’aser contribution?

SOCIAL JUSTICE.

Fourth, there are domains of resource allocation, broadly understood, where prioritisation of those close to us is inappropriate altogether. In particular, in the administration of justice we are admonished repeatedly not to respect position, rather to deal impartially.

And this applies equally when we come to issues of social justice, administered by communal institutions and those of the Jewish government. In such matters, which embrace the organisation of the national and international economy, property rights and communal resources are to be allocated to optimise welfare and to address relative need.

This at any rate is how the Meiri interprets the discussion in the Talmud identifying the dual nature of justice:  justice in disputes regarding existing property rights, and justice in other domains, which can be characterised as social justice:

יש דברים שאין מדת הדין שולטת בהם ואתה צריך לחזר בהם אחר מה שראוי יותר ולהכריע את האחד למה שאין מדת הדין מחייבתו דרך פשרא ומדה מעולה והוא שאמרו כתוב אחד אומר "[לֹא-תַעֲשׂוּ עָוֶל בַּמִּשְׁפָּט לֹא-תִשָּׂא פְנֵי-דָל וְלֹא תֶהְדַּר פְּנֵי גָדוֹל] בְּצֶדֶק תִּשְׁפֹּט עֲמִיתֶךָ" [ויקרא י"ט ט"ו

וכתוב אחד אומר " צֶ֥דֶק צֶ֖דֶק תִּרְדֹּ֑ף [לְמַ֤עַן תִּֽחְיֶה֙ וְיָרַשְׁתָּ֣ אֶת־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁר־ה" אֱלֹק֖יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לָֽךְ׃" דברים ט"ז כ.] כאן לדין כאן לפשרא

כִּדְתַנְיָא: ״צֶדֶק צֶדֶק תִּרְדֹּף״ – אֶחָד לְדִין וְאֶחָד לִפְשָׁרָה. כֵּיצַד? שְׁתֵּי סְפִינוֹת עוֹבְרוֹת בַּנָּהָר וּפָגְעוּ זֶה בָּזֶה, אִם עוֹבְרוֹת שְׁתֵּיהֶן – שְׁתֵּיהֶן טוֹבְעוֹת, בְּזֶה אַחַר זֶה – שְׁתֵּיהֶן עוֹבְרוֹת. וְכֵן שְׁנֵי גְּמַלִּים שֶׁהָיוּ עוֹלִים בְּמַעֲלוֹת בֵּית חוֹרוֹן וּפָגְעוּ זֶה בָּזֶה, אִם עָלוּ שְׁנֵיהֶן – שְׁנֵיהֶן נוֹפְלִין, בְּזֶה אַחַר זֶה – שְׁנֵיהֶן עוֹלִין

הָא כֵּיצַד? טְעוּנָה וְשֶׁאֵינָהּ טְעוּנָה – תִּידָּחֶה שֶׁאֵינָהּ טְעוּנָה מִפְּנֵי טְעוּנָה. קְרוֹבָה וְשֶׁאֵינָהּ קְרוֹבָה – תִּידָּחֶה קְרוֹבָה מִפְּנֵי שֶׁאֵינָהּ קְרוֹבָה. הָיוּ שְׁתֵּיהֶן קְרוֹבוֹת, שְׁתֵּיהֶן רְחוֹקוֹת – הָטֵל פְּשָׁרָה בֵּינֵיהֶן, וּמֵעֲלוֹת שָׂכָר זוֹ לָזוֹ. [סנהדרין ל״ב:] וכן כל כיוצא בה כל שאנו רואים שיכול לסבול העכוב ביותר ידחה מפני חברו וכן בריא מפני חולה וכל כיוצא בזה אף לענין הדין אמרו שאם היו לפני הדיין הרבה בעלי דינין מקדימין יתום לאלמנה ואלמנה לתלמיד חכם ותלמיד חכם לעם הארץ ואשה קודמת לאיש מפני שבשתה מרובה ואם הכל שוה מקדימין לקודם

מאירי לסנהדרין ל"ב

There are matters regarding which the attribute of strict legality is not applicable and one is required to seek after what [allocation of rights or resources] is most appropriate and to determine [the matter] against one who is not otherwise obligated in the manner of compromise [with existing property rights, invoking] an elevated attribute. This is as the Rabbis said: [Sanhedrin 32b] it is written in one verse: “[You shall not commit a perversion of justice; you shall not favour the poor and you shall not honour the great;] in justice shall you judge your neighbour” (Leviticus 19:15), and it is written in another verse: “Justice, justice, shall you follow [in order that you shall live and that you shall inherit the land that the Lord your God gives to you]” (Deuteronomy 16:20).  How can these texts be reconciled? As it is taught in a baraita: one mention of “justice” is stated with regard to judgment and one is stated with regard to compromise. How so? Where there are two boats travelling on the river and they encounter each other, if both of them attempt to pass, both of them sink, [as the river is not wide enough for both to pass]. If they pass one after the other, both of them pass. And similarly, where there are two camels who were ascending the ascent of Beit Ḥoron, [where there is a narrow steep path], and they encounter each other, if both of them attempt to ascend, both of them fall. If they ascend one after the other, both of them ascend. How does one decide which of them should go first? If there is one boat that is laden and one boat that is not laden, the needs of the one that is not laden should be overridden due to the needs of the one that is laden. If there is one boat that is close to its destination and one boat that is not close to its destination, the needs of the one that is close should be overridden due to the needs of the one that is not close. If both of them were close to their destinations, or both of them were far from their destinations, impose a compromise between them to decide which goes first, and the owners of the boats pay a fee to one other, [i.e., the owners of the first boat compensate the owner of the boat that waits, for any loss incurred] [End Of Quotation from Sanhedrin 32b.] and so it is with all similar cases [comments the Meiri]: we see who is most able to bear the burden and we relegate that person’s claim relative to his fellow, and so a healthy person is displaced by a sick person, and similarly in similar comparisons. Even in the matter of judgement itself, if there are before a court many litigants seeking justice, precedence is given [to hearing the case of] the orphan over the widow, and to the widow over the scholar, and to the scholar over the peasant, and a woman takes precedence over a man because her embarrassment is greater, and only if everything is equal do we apply first come first served.

Meiri to Sanhedrin 32b.

The generality of what the Meiri sees in this Talmudic discussion is striking, but it is also well anchored in the text. The source verses speak of justice in general, pointing to a second dimension, beyond that normally meted out in a courtroom. And the examples given by the Talmud refer to trade relations, the relations that underpin all economic activity. It is not obvious that there is any need for the state or the justice system to get involved in allocation of rights in these contexts at all: a minimal state would just leave it to the trading parties to work something out for themselves. But the Talmud is clearly concerned not to allow market power to determine the outcome.

Instead, we are given two measures of need, which on reflection are quite general in application. First, the extent of the suffering imposed from losing out in the particular context: exemplified here by the additional costs of a day’s delay for a ship or a camel that is laden and thus exposed to additional risk or insurance costs. A parallel might be in the allocation of health resources, priority for, say, hip replacement should be given to someone whose current pain or immobility is the greater. Second, the economic and welfare position of the potential beneficiaries, with priority to be given to the one who is further removed from repose, illustrated by the distance from harbour. In the health parallel, that would mean priority to somebody who is more disadvantaged in other aspects of their life. These two metrics of need have very wide application in determining social policy, for instance in education (favouring those who have most to gain from education, and also those who are multiply disadvantaged), or in tax structures (taxing those whose behaviour will be least distorted by the tax, and taxing the rich), or in transport policy etc etc

But what is also striking is that there is no suggestion, neither in the Talmud nor in the commentary, of any precedence to be given to friends or neighbours. On the contrary, this is designated as justice, in this case social justice, where the intrusion of personal relations is strictly forbidden.

The extent of the obligations of social justice are thus seen to be vast, and immune from the prioritisation of the ordo amoris.

INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS

Fifth, there is evidently another order of priority and compassion which is enjoined upon us collectively: he Jewish community as a whole is to be a light and a blessing to the nations. (Isaiah 49.6; Genesis 22:18).  

Paradigmatically, this is expressed, during Succoth, by bringing offerings on behalf of the other nations, which Rashi explains is to secure for them the blessing of rain (which is ordained at this season) and protection from affliction. (See Succah 55b, and Rashi there and on Numbers 29:13.)

אָמַר רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר: הָנֵי שִׁבְעִים פָּרִים כְּנֶגֶד מִי — כְּנֶגֶד שִׁבְעִים אוּמּוֹת. פַּר יְחִידִי לָמָּה — כְּנֶגֶד אוּמָּה יְחִידָה

סוכה נה

Rabbi Elazar said: These seventy bulls that are sacrificed as additional offerings over the course of the seven days of Sukkot, to what do they correspond? They correspond to the seventy nations of the world.

Babylonian Talmud, Succah 55b

So, whereas individuals prioritise families and their communities in order to create and sustain the family and the community itself, the community as a whole, Israel as a nation, is obligated to show compassion and charity and concern towards other nations.

How do we do this in the absence of the temple?

The object of our endeavours can be to mimic the effect of the offerings that are no longer brought on behalf of the nations, by providing aid to combat drought and famine, and through diplomatic and political support for agencies and parties working for liberation from dictatorship and other forms of affliction.

If this is a collective responsibility, it should be done on behalf of the Jewish people collectively. Obviously, there is a role here for the State of Israel, a role which it has discharged particularly in times natural disaster. Its aid budget however has shrunk over recent decades (see riseandfall.pdf).

For individual jews, collective responsibility towards other communities requires us to advocate through democratic voice and campaigning that the Jewish government plays its full role in alleviating global suffering. A further mechanism including for Jews in the diaspora is for individuals to contribute to communal institutions that provide foreign aid on behalf of the Jewish people, such as World Jewish Relief.

Supporting communal institutions to take responsibility for providing succour to those in need elsewhere, is of course also to strengthen those communal institutions and to create a shared sense of purpose, so also building our own community by dedicating it for the good of all. Whether such contributions should count towards ma’aser is therefore open to debate, but their necessity is not!

In sum, from a Jewish perspective, showing special concern in various ways for those who are closest to us through ties of family, of community and of religion is indeed appropriate. But the concept of local community embraces Jews and non-Jews alike; and there is also a minimum demand of compassion towards all, one that is sensitive to the acuity of need. Furthermore, we have seen that the obligations of social justice operate in a different domain altogether, one that differentiates on grounds of need but not otherwise. Finally, the Jewish nation should collectively embrace its aspiration to be a blessing to other nations through material as well as spiritual means. Our national and communal obligations to other communities and individuals in need, and those falling on us individually and locally, transcend and put into context the modest place in our ethics of the ordo amoris.

Elul 5785