On Wednesday, in a post about the election of Zohran Mamdani as New York City’s next mayor, I wrote:
Many Jews in New York — and across the country — voiced deep concern about Mamdani’s record, his statements on Israel, and the antisemitism they felt his rhetoric normalized. Jewish leaders in New York City spoke out clearly and courageously, and many of us across the country stood in solidarity with them.
For those of us who raised our voices, for those who voted for another candidate, today brings very heavy emotions. It’s hard to comprehend that more than a million New Yorkers chose someone whose ideas, we believe, put the Jewish community of NYC in danger.
I also acknowledged the pain so many of us are feeling over the fact that 32% of Jewish voters in New York City supported Mamdani — particularly young Jews. I wrote that it’s important for us to listen to and learn from these young voters — not to change our own views, but to understand how this happened. Listening deeply is how we grow, and how we strengthen the Jewish community for the future. It’s not easy work — but it’s necessary because there will be more elections like this one. We must be prepared.
Before we can truly listen to and learn from these young Jewish voters, we need to look closely at the world that formed them — the Jewish homes, synagogues, and communities that shaped their values. Their decision-making process didn’t develop in isolation. So many of them are products of a Judaism that has taught them to see justice as universal, to repair the world broadly, and to measure moral worth by how we care for others — sometimes more than how we care for our own people.
Over the past several decades, American Jewish life has emphasized the universal dimension of our tradition — the call to pursue justice, champion the stranger, and engage in tikkun olam, repairing the world. Research shows that this emphasis has been effective: in the Pew Research Center’s 2020 survey, nearly 60% of U.S. Jews said “working for justice and equality” is essential to being Jewish — a higher share than those who view belonging to a Jewish community (33%) or caring about Israel (45%) as core Jewish commitments. Since the late twentieth century, the American Jewish community has elevated tikkun olam as Judaism’s civic mission — a way to express Jewish values through activism, volunteerism, and philanthropy for the broader good. This led to tikkun olam becoming the dominant moral language of US Jews, particularly in the non-Orthodox community – a language that is accessible, inspiring, and proudly American. As scholars have noted, this shift effectively made Jewish ethics synonymous with liberal humanitarianism.
This emphasis on tikkun olam has shaped Jewish identity around a deeply universal compassion for all. As a result, many in the American Jewish community, including Jewish parents, have prioritized this universal compassion to such a degree that they’ve underplayed the equally vital ethic of responsibility expressed in the Talmud: kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh – that “all Jews are responsible for one another.” By allowing this imbalance to happen, we’ve raised young Jewish adults who play vital roles in making the world a better place – but sometimes at the expense of critical needs within the Jewish community here at home, in Israel, and across the globe.
Data from Pew reflects this imbalance: while 51% of American Jews feel some responsibility to help other Jews, only 28% feel a great deal of responsibility (80% of Orthodox Jews feel a great deal of responsibility) – and that number drops to 11% among Jews who do not consider themselves religious. Giving patterns mirror this divide: while 48% of Jews have donated to a Jewish cause, only 11% of Jews who don’t consider themselves to be religious report doing so.
In a Jewish world where many see justice as universal — and have passed this worldview on to the next generation — too many struggle to see Jewish self-care as a sacred priority. They are quick to heal the world, but slower to defend their own. I believe this helps explain why 32% of Jewish voters in New York supported Mamdani.
We can — and should — be deeply troubled by these voters. But we must also recognize that their choices are, in part, the result of decades in which our community, often with good intentions, elevated compassion for the world while neglecting areivut — the moral responsibility Jews owe one another.
So we must ask ourselves: What will we do now?
To start, we must reclaim a Judaism that continues to embrace tikkun olam — the obligation to repair the world — but makes clear that we Jews are, first and foremost, responsible for one another. Yes, justice for all is holy. But we must also teach that when we overlook our own, we distort the very justice we seek. Engaging with one another — even when it’s difficult — is part of the work of repair. As we seek to understand those who supported Mamdani, we must not shy away from speaking with clarity about our own values. Our fellow Jews need to hear from us — clearly and consistently — that if we truly hope to heal the world, we must begin by repairing our own people. And given what happened in New York City this week, and the divisions that have erupted over the past two years, there is much repair to be done. Let’s get to work.
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