Politics is the new religion, and Jews should know better.

Jewish history is littered with real-life examples of what happens when sociopolitical movements become messianic doctrines. The outcome is rarely pretty.

Protests have replaced places of worship. (photo: Mika Baumeister /Unsplash)

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In increasing parts of the world where places of worship are emptier and social media feeds are overpacked, a troubling shift has taken place: Politics has become the new religion.

Not religion in the spiritual sense, but religion in the sociological sense: the framework that gives people meaning, community, ritual, purpose, and a moral hierarchy of good and evil.

In the past, these were provided by faith traditions. Today, for many, they are offered instead by sociopolitical ideologies — and, ironically, largely adopted by folks who consider themselves “atheist” or “agnostic.”

Protests have replaced places of worship, hashtags have overtaken biblical verses, and manifestos have superseded prayers. The rituals of traditional religion — praying, fasting, lighting candles, confessing, repenting — have been swapped for public outrage, moral performativity, and the constant scanning of others for any inkling of possible heresy.

What once centered around transcendence and humility now revolves around certainty and purity. Instead of asking what God requires of us, people now ask what the movement demands. And instead of viewing others as fellow image-bearers — flawed, evolving, complex — they are seen as allies or enemies, righteous or damned. The world is divided, not into saints and sinners, but into the “woke” and the “asleep,” the “resistant” and the “complicit.”

In this new religion, there is little space for forgiveness, mystery, or awe. Only loyalty. Only litmus tests. Only power.

From a Jewish lens, this transformation is not surprising, nor is it without precedent. We have seen what happens when ideologies are worshipped like deities — whether in the form of golden calves, totalitarian regimes, or radical revolutions that promise salvation and deliver suffering.

Judaism has long warned against the seduction of absolute systems that claim to offer all the answers. The Torah’s prohibition of idolatry isn’t just about statues; it’s about any human-made ideology or institution that demands ultimate allegiance and offers no room for doubt, nuance, or repentance.

And Jews have centuries upon centuries of experience watching what unfolds when loyalty to an abstract system replaces humility before God and respect for human complexity. In the 20th century alone, Jews were among the first to be crushed under the weight of these false gods — whether Nazism, Stalinism, or other messianic political movements that sought to create a perfect society by purging the impure. When human beings are reduced to categories — the oppressor, the enemy, the parasite — history tells us where that road leads.

Judaism has always resisted such flattening of the human soul. It insists that no ideology, no party, no state has the right to define ultimate truth. The results of forgetting that, of giving ourselves over to all-encompassing “isms,” are rarely benign. They often begin with utopian dreams and end with persecution, purges, and ruins. As Jews, we recognize this pattern not just in theory, but in our bones.

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Look around.

Sociopolitical identity now dictates social circles, dating preferences, cultural tastes, and even religious affiliations. People wear their political beliefs on their sleeves (or their yard signs) with all the fervor of medieval pilgrims. They signal virtue by reciting the right mantras, posting the right slogans, and aligning with the “correct” side of history. Transgression is met with excommunication: unfriending, canceling, doxxing. There is no redemption without public confession and penance.

Like religions of old, sociopolitical tribes offer a sense of belonging, clarity, and cosmic order — but often at the price of nuance, forgiveness, and self-doubt.

This is not to say that politics doesn’t matter. It does. Judaism has always affirmed the need for justice, civic responsibility, and ethical leadership. But when politics replaces religion, it ceases to be a tool for building a better world and becomes an idol unto itself.

And when idolatry takes root, Jewish tradition tells us to be alert because the stakes are not just spiritual; they are societal.

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For Jews (and those who want to take inspiration from our world), Judaism offers an interesting contrast to the emergence of politics as the new religion. Here are a few examples:

Judaism: A Counterculture of Sacred Complexity

One of Judaism’s greatest contributions to the moral history of humanity is its resistance to absolutism. We are a people of argument, of paradox, of unresolved tensions. The Talmud is not a book of answers; it is a book of questions. The God of Israel is not simple; He is demanding, mysterious, and ethical beyond comprehension.

Politics, when turned into religion, has no room for this. It flattens the human being into “us” or “them.” It seeks ideological purity over intellectual humility. It weaponizes empathy for the “in-group” and contempt for the “out-group.”

But Judaism doesn’t do purity. It doesn’t demand sameness. Israelites (today known as Jews) are named after Jacob, the one who wrestled with God. That is literally what “Israel” means. Wrestling is not heresy in Judaism; it is a sacred act. It is through tension, disagreement, and interpretation that truth emerges.

Judaism also centers around teshuvah, the radical idea that people can change. We are not frozen in our worst moments. A person who sins can return and even become greater than before. Political religions, in contrast, offer no path to redemption. You are what you said in 2012. You are judged forever by the lowest-resolution image of yourself.

This is not just a difference in philosophy; it is a difference in what kind of society we build — one of moral terror, or one of moral growth. In an age of ideological dogmatism, Judaism is radical for its restraint.

Ancient Lessons, Modern Applications

The Torah warns against idol worship — not just statues of Baal or golden calves, but any force that commands absolute loyalty and replaces God. In our time, the new idols are sociopolitical ideologies, parties, politicians (and other public figures), and slogans that promise utopia but deliver division.

The late, great Rabbi Jonathan Sacks once warned that when people lose faith in God, they don’t believe in nothing; they believe in anything. Totalitarian regimes of the 20th century proved this terrifying truth: When the state or the cause becomes sacred, dissenters become heretics and atrocities become permissible. The gulags and gas chambers were not built by men of faith, but by men of ideology.

Judaism teaches that every human being carries inherent dignity and worth, not because of status, ideology, or affiliation, but simply by being human. This idea is captured in the ancient Jewish belief that we are all made b’tzelem Elohim (in the image of the divine), a phrase that, regardless of theology, affirms the moral equality and irreducible value of every person. When we forget that, the result is dehumanization, polarization and, eventually, violence.

And we’ve seen this before — tragically, within our own walls. The destruction of the Second Temple was not just a Roman act of war. It was the culmination of sinat chinam — baseless hatred, zealotry, and factionalism among Jews at the time. Jewish extremists burned food supplies to force others into war. The ideology was pure; the result was ruin.

In today’s climate, we again see ideological factions that permit no dissent, demonize the moderate, and destroy common ground. The echoes of the zealots should chill us.

The Loss of Sacred Time

Judaism sanctifies time.

Shabbat, holidays, sabbatical years — these create a rhythm that elevates life beyond the urgent. In contrast, political religion offers no rest, no pause, no seventh day. Every moment is a moment of outrage, every day a potential crisis.

This constant moral emergency exhausts the soul. Judaism insists on menuchah — rest — not as a luxury, but as spiritual oxygen. Without it, we burn out, lose clarity, and become reactive instead of reflective.

Shabbat does more than rejuvenate. It teaches that we are not slaves — not even to our own causes. It is an act of rebellion against a world that demands 24/7 performance. And perhaps, against a politics that never sleeps.

The Difference Between Covenant and Contract

Modern political affiliations are contractual: As long as you agree with the group, you belong. Disagree once, and you’re out. But Judaism is built on covenant — brit. A binding relationship, not based on utility or popularity, but on shared commitment and eternal responsibility.

This is why Jewish community can survive disagreements that would split political movements. We are not together because we all think the same. We are together because we are in covenant with each other — and with God.

When politics becomes religion, relationships become brittle. But covenant teaches resilience.

The Danger of Prophetic Politics Without Prophetic Character

Many activists today model themselves on prophets. They denounce injustice, call for radical change, and speak truth to power. But real prophets in Judaism were reluctant. They feared their own pride. They spoke because they were called, not because they were trending.

Modern political discourse often borrows prophetic tone but lacks prophetic soul. What we get is performance without humility. Anger without tears. Prophecy without God.

Judaism reminds us: Truth is not a weapon, it is a responsibility.

The False Promise of Utopia

Utopian thinking has returned. Many ideologies promise that if only we dismantle certain systems or redistribute certain powers, we will achieve paradise. But Judaism does not believe in utopia. We believe in geulah (redemption).

Redemption is not perfection. It’s the slow, often painful process of repairing what is broken, while honoring what is holy. It is not about building heaven on earth — it is about bringing a bit of heaven into earth, through daily acts of justice, compassion, and restraint.

The Erosion of Particularism

Sociopolitical religion demands universalism, often at the expense of particular identity. Jews are increasingly expected to suppress their particular story, their peoplehood, their trauma, unless it can be co-opted into someone else’s cause.

But Judaism is unapologetically particular. We are a people with a unique mission, history, and covenant. We do not exist to be a subset of another ideology’s talking points. Our story matters — not because it is better, but because it is ours.

The Role of Halacha Versus the Rule of Mobs

Jewish life is governed by halacha (Jewish laws and ethics), which evolves through debate, precedent, and accountability. It is rigorous but slow, thoughtful not reactive.

Political religion is governed by mob logic. Whoever is most outraged wins, and whoever deviates from orthodoxy is excommunicated without trial.

But Judaism teaches that justice is not a hashtag. It is a process. It takes time, patience, and an understanding that not every truth fits in a slogan.

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We are living in a time of great spiritual confusion. As organized religion declines, people are desperately seeking meaning elsewhere — often in the realm of politics. But politics cannot bear the weight of the soul. It can legislate rights, but not confer dignity. It can build coalitions, but not communities of spirit.

Judaism offers a counterweight: a life of rhythm, of moral challenge, of tradition and transcendence. It calls us not to withdraw from the world, but to engage it with wisdom, humility, and courage.

If politics is becoming the new religion, then perhaps Judaism must become, once again, a rebellion against idolatry — not just of stone, but of slogans.

Because we have seen this before, and we know where it leads.

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