Democracy has reconfigured the human condition. For generations, political power was concentrated in the hands of a monarch and a narrow aristocracy that controlled national life. Absolute authority in the hands of a few regularly produced overreaching, corruption, and cruelty.
Across the last 400 years, humanity slowly unearthed a different political possibility. Democracy allows ordinary citizens a voice in shaping their collective future. It protects human dignity and basic welfare. By widening personal and economic liberty, it awakens creativity, fuels invention, and broadens opportunity.
Democracy has delivered immense blessing, but Judaism imagines a different ideal of governance shaped by God’s will. The Torah envisions a monarch serving under the awe of heaven, bound to halacha, and held in check by two counterforces: prophets who confront him and courts that limit his authority. Few Jewish kings ever fulfilled that vision, yet the longing for the Messiah – a righteous monarch who restores Jewish history – remains embedded in our collective hope.
In the absence of that ideal, democracy is the best system available. We should value it, safeguard it within Israeli society, and participate actively wherever we reside, cherishing the liberties and dignity it secures.
Two powers, two realms
As Jacob prepares to leave this world, he assigns the mantle of monarchy to Judah and his descendants. Across the turbulent saga of Joseph’s sale and the unfolding drama in Egypt, Judah emerged as the responsible brother – the one who spoke with honesty, assumed duty, and was willing to sacrifice himself in moments of crisis. Those qualities of steadiness, accountability, and moral courage form the foundation of leadership and render him the fitting bearer of Jewish kingship.
Jacob doesn’t merely grant monarchy to Judah; he cautions that political authority should never drift from that tribe. He anticipates that another group within Israel might one day imagine itself suited to rule, and he warns that it must not wrest power from Judah’s lineage.
The most obvious alternative would be the tribe of Levi – the priests who oversee the Sanctuary and direct the nation’s ritual life. Given their central role and visibility, one could easily imagine them stepping into political leadership. Why not combine religious authority with political power?
In fact, this is precisely what unfolded after the Hanukkah miracles. The Hasmoneans – the heroes of that struggle – were kohanim, and yet they seized political rule. The first generation sensed the tension and refrained from formally assuming the title of “king,” though they governed with royal power. In later generations, however, their descendants openly took the crown.
This encroachment disrupted the balance of power and sparked decades of internal tension and violence, culminating in a civil war in the first century BCE that claimed more than 60,000 Jewish lives. The Ramban famously wrote that the Hasmoneans were punished for seizing the throne; within a few generations, their dynasty was largely extinguished. Jacob’s vision is clear: Political leadership and religious authority should remain distinct and never collapse into the same hands.
Separation of church and state
The struggle to separate political authority from religious power was not only a Jewish challenge; it became a defining tension across civilizations. Humanity repeatedly attempted – and often failed – to disentangle sacred authority from the machinery of governance. Monarchs viewed themselves as chosen by God not only to govern but also to shape and enforce religious life. Under that banner, much abuse and violence was committed.
The brutality committed under a religious banner left humanity deeply alienated from faith itself. Religion – once a source of meaning – became associated with fear, coercion, and bloodshed. That alienation slowly led societies to search for a framework in which belief would not depend on force.
Eventually, the world began to recognize the benefits of separating religion from politics. In the Western imagination, this became known as the separation of church and state – a model that safeguarded freedom of worship and prevented any single faith from dictating in the public realm. Religion became a matter of personal choice, while society, politics, and progress were shaped by democratic principles.
This shift profoundly reshaped the modern world and was especially transformative for Jews. After centuries of persecution, exclusion, and forced conformity, Jews were finally able to live as equal members of enlightened democracies, free to practice Judaism without interference. Across the modern era, vibrant Jewish communities flourished – integrated within society, yet able to live Jewishly on their own terms.
Separating religion from state removed faith from the rough machinery of politics. It enabled religion to aspire upward rather than be dragged downward, and – perhaps most importantly – avoided coercion. Religious life is strongest when it is chosen.
Democracy in a Jewish state
However, Jewish history took a dramatic turn when sovereignty returned after 2,000 years, and these ideas suddenly had to be tested within a Jewish state of our own.
As valuable as this separation has been for Jews worldwide, it becomes more complicated when we consider the State of Israel. Our population spans the religious spectrum – from deeply observant communities to those who do not believe in God and have little interest in religious life. A purely democratic model would avoid imposing religion on its citizens. Yet we also want Israel to retain a Jewish character without forcing religious practice.
This balance requires the presence of certain religious frameworks in the public sphere – standards for Shabbat, holidays, and kashrut – without which the state would lose its Jewish texture. In addition, we have a vested interest in maintaining a single, cohesive nation. Without shared laws governing marriage and conversion, society would fracture into separate groups unable to intermarry or share a common future.
The need to infuse Israeli society with Jewish values and basic Jewish identity is not merely theoretical. Concrete institutions were established to carry out this mission. The Chief Rabbinate was tasked with overseeing religious standards in key areas of national life. Alongside it, religious political parties emerged and assumed responsibility for safeguarding Israel’s Jewish character within a democratic system.
Losing religion through power
However, the politicization of religion introduces the very entanglements history has warned against. Political bodies are, by nature, bureaucratic, and the rules they create are enforced through coercion. Many non-observant Jews encounter religion only at this blunt edge – through offices, signatures, and prohibitions – rather than through its depth, joy, or beauty.
As a result, religion can become diminished in the public imagination. Instead of serving as a source of meaning and aspiration, it is perceived as a collection of political interests and factional agendas. This is often intensified when religious parties become sectarian – focused primarily on the needs of their own communities rather than articulating a national religious vision.
Ironically, attempts to embed religious frameworks can sometimes damage religion itself, breeding resentment and alienation.
The turmoil of the past three years – from the crisis over judicial reform to the Israel-Hamas War – has exposed the fractures that continue to divide our people and underscored how urgently unity is needed to secure our future and our land. We are split politically, religiously, and now between those who bear the burdens of service and those who do not. We are also divided between those who seek to bring religion into the public arena and those who believe it must remain a personal choice.
In light of these fractures, finding a way to blend democratic freedom with a balanced distance between religious authority and political power has become a pressing national concern. At the same time, we must preserve the Jewish soul of our state. Only by holding these commitments together can we hope to remain one nation. ■
The writer, a rabbi at Yeshivat Har Etzion (Gush), was ordained by Yeshiva University and has an MA in English literature. His books include To Be Holy but Human: Reflections Upon My Rebbe, HaRav Yehuda Amital. mtaraginbooks.com.