On December 10, the world observes Human Rights Day, dedicated to honoring the dignity and freedom of every human being.
Precisely on this day, I find myself returning to the unique contribution of Jewish tradition to the discourse on human dignity: while the modern world speaks the language of rights, Judaism chose to speak the language of duties.
In the Jewish tradition, we do not encounter a “right to life”; instead, we find the moral imperative “Thou shalt not murder,” grounded in the founding principle that “the human being is created in the divine image.” We do not find a “right to property,” but rather the commandment, “Thou shalt not steal.” There is no declared “right to family life,” yet its moral force echoes in the duty, “Thou shalt not covet.” Even the “right to a fair trial” appears in the form of obligations: “Do not show favoritism to the poor” and “Do not bear false witness.” And so forth.
Entitlement vs obligation
Jewish tradition does not ask, “What am I entitled to?” but rather, “What is my obligation toward the other?” This is a profound moral and spiritual stance that trains the human eye to see the reflection of one’s own life in the life of one’s neighbor. The fulfillment of one’s duties is what truly protects the rights of others.
This insight echoes in Erich Fromm’s The Art of Loving, where he suggests that a person should be concerned not with how to be loved, but with how to be loving.
If each of us insists solely on our rights, society will remain fractured and embittered. But if each of us commits to our duties, we can build a society grounded in mutual respect, responsibility, and peace.
And perhaps it is no coincidence that, in Jewish tradition, the word zechut (right) appears most often in the context of fulfilling commandments – “May you merit the mitzvot” – meaning that rights emerge from the faithful performance of duties.
With rightful pride, we recall that the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the foundational text of modern human rights in the post-Holocaust era, was drafted by the Jewish jurist Prof. René Cassin, a member of Charles De Gaulle’s Free French government. Twenty years later, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for this contribution.
Thus, the ancient Jewish language of duties of the heart meets the modern universal language of human rights, and each enriches the other.
Shaping the Israel of tomorrow
Israeli society today stands at a profoundly significant crossroads, facing critical decisions about the future shape of Judaism in the generations ahead. Internal and external challenges confront us; the delicate tissues of trust and cohesion have been strained; fears of deepening social rifts loom large.
As in every generation, ours also carries a great responsibility: to forge a language and a path of bridge-building, of repair, of shaping a society that sees disagreement not as a threat but as a means of deepening identity. Unity is not uniformity; difference and debate are not dangers, but the beating heart of both Judaism and democracy.
They are also the basis of our responsibility for one another – for those like us, and for those unlike us.
In all this, we may take pride: Jewish civilization offered humanity one of the greatest moral revolutions in history, the opening declaration of the Book of Genesis: “And God created the human being in His image… male and female He created them.” Here lies the sanctity of life and the equal worth of every person. These are not only religious foundations; they are the very pillars of the State of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state, and the basis of the Israeli hope for a just and open society.
And as we approach the darkest days of the year, we also draw near to the Festival of Lights. In Hanukkah – a holiday in which a small flame dispels great darkness – we are called to kindle the light of both human duties and human rights: with dignity, with listening, with integrity, and with fairness towards one another.
In doing so, we can together help shape the moral character of Israel for generations to come, aspiring to be a model society and a source of light in the years ahead.
The writer, a rabbi, is the managing director and headmaster of the Leo Baeck Education Center.