Rabbi Abraham Rabinovich, Adas Kodesch Shel Emeth
It depends on whom you ask. Judaism has long embraced a diversity of perspectives, and definitions of what it means to be a “good” Jew reflect that richness.
From an Orthodox standpoint, a good Jew is someone who strives to observe the mitzvot—the commandments rooted in the Torah and developed through rabbinic tradition. These include ritual practices such as observing the Sabbath, maintaining dietary laws, and engaging in regular prayer, alongside ethical responsibilities like honesty in business, charity, and respect for others.
Within Conservative Judaism, being a “good” Jew is often understood as making a sincere effort—living a Jewish life with intention and doing one’s best to uphold its values and practices.
A Reform perspective may emphasize ethical action above all, defining a good Jew as someone who pursues justice, acts with compassion, and contributes to the betterment of society.
For cultural Jews, the definition may center on connection—sustaining ties to Jewish history, tradition, and community. This can include celebrating holidays, preserving language and memory, and passing shared values on to future generations.
Notably, ancient rabbinic tradition offers a strikingly inclusive view. The rabbis taught, “Every Jew has a share in the World to Come, for all are righteous” (Mishnah, Sanhedrin 10:1). Elsewhere, the Talmud states, “Even the sinners among the Jewish people are filled with mitzvot like a pomegranate” (Chagigah 27a). In this light, the tradition suggests that there is no such thing as a “bad” Jew—only individuals, each possessing inherent worth and capacity for good.
This idea is captured in a well-known Hasidic story about Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (1740–1809). After leading a meaningful Passover Seder, he felt a sense of fulfillment in his service. At that moment, a heavenly voice declared: “More pleasing to Me than your Seder is that of Hayyim, the water carrier.”
Determined to understand, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak asked that Hayyim be brought to him and inquired about his Seder.
Hayyim replied candidly: “Rebbe, I must tell the truth. On the day before Passover, I remembered that it is forbidden to drink vodka for eight days, so I drank enough beforehand to last through the holiday. Afterwards, I fell asleep. When night came, my wife woke me and asked why I wasn’t leading a Seder like everyone else.
“I told her, ‘What do you want from me? I am unlearned. My father was unlearned. I do not know the prayers. All I know is that our ancestors were slaves in Egypt, and that God brought them to freedom. And I believe that God will bring us to freedom again.’
“I saw matzah, wine, and eggs on the table. I ate, I drank, and I was filled with joy. I lifted my cup and said: ‘God, I drink this cup to You. Now look upon us and bring us to freedom as well.’”
After hearing this, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak turned to his students and said, “Take him home. His words were most pleasing in Heaven, because they were spoken with complete sincerity—without pretense, with a full and honest heart, and with complete intention, for he didn’t know any more.”
Perhaps, then, the most meaningful answer to the question “What makes a
‘good’ Jew?” is this: a good Jew is one who strives—sincerely and earnestly—to live a life of goodness, guided by intention, integrity, and a desire to do what is right.
In that striving itself, we find what it means to be “good.”
Rabbi Peter H. Grumbacher, Rabbi Emeritus, Congregation Beth Emeth
In his review of the book To Be a Jew Today: A New Guide to God, Israel, and the Jewish People by Noah Feldman, Rabbi Israel Zoberman writes, “One initial aim of this book is to chart a map of contemporary Jewish lives and ideas, a map the reader can use not to identify bad Jews but to explore and appreciate the many different ways Jews can be and think and experience.”
Rabbi Zoberman points out that Jews sometimes see themselves as “bad” if “they perceive themselves falling short in their relation to a demanding heritage regulating conduct . . .” This, he adds, “is in fact alien to Judaism.”
The same might be said about a “good” Jew. In this case, what is “alien to Judaism” is an absolute definition of what
“good” means. There are those in the various branches of Judaism who see others as “less Jewish” if they do not take the mitzvot seriously, or who might not support Israel as do they. Remember, though, a Jew is defined as one whose mother is Jewish. If a Jew is seen falling short of someone’s expectations, or exceeds those expectations, they are a Jew nonetheless.
Having said that, and acknowledging that some might disagree with me, in these times a “good” Jew remains inexorably connected to am Yisrael, the Jewish People.
Even with a string of complaints about the behavior of the government of Israel, or any other fault one perceives in the American Jewish community, Kol Yisrael arevim zeh la-zeh, “All Israel is responsible one for the other.”
We certainly cannot afford the kind of divisiveness we are experiencing. It’s bad enough to sense the damage it is doing to the fabric of America—how much the more so to the Jewish community. We just don’t have that many of us around to withstand such antagonism. As we read, Al tifrosh min ha-tzibur, “Do not separate yourself from the community.”
Years ago I might have said a “good” Jew visits a synagogue even on an occasional basis, or a “good” Jew donates to Jewish causes. Even, a “good” Jew practices their faith at home, is also something I might have said. Understand, I’m not negating the value of them all. Now, however, the “ties that bind” do not require synagogue attendance, philanthropy (although this is connected to my overall belief in dedication to our People), or family rituals. They do require education on the importance of our survival based on our history, as well as the recognition that just because that Jew is ___ (you fill in the blank), it should not diminish their worth in your eyes.
We’re living in tough times, my friends, and we have to rise to the challenge of keeping us together.
