Reflections on the Life and Legacy of Joe Lieberman—On the Occasion of His First Yahrtzeit
Former US Senator Joseph Lieberman (1942–2024) at the OU’s Torah New York event in 2018. Photos: Kruter Photography
In a political landscape often defined by ambition, self-promotion and partisanship, Senator Joe Lieberman, whose first yahrtzeit is Adar 17, stood apart. He distinguished himself not only through his legislative accomplishments and willingness to work across the aisle but also through personal qualities rare in the halls of power: a keen sense of humor, genuine humility and a firmly grounded moral compass. His approach to public service was informed by his upbringing, his faith and his profound respect for tradition and law.
Lieberman’s life was shaped by his parents. His father, Henry, was not from an observant background; Henry’s mother died during the Great Flu Pandemic of 1918 and he was placed in an orphanage—he did not receive any Jewish education and did not even have a bar mitzvah. However, Lieberman’s mother, Marcia, was from an observant home and passed on to him the emotional resonance of Judaism. His father eventually found his own connection to belief and instilled in his son the rational framework for faith. In this way, Lieberman understood religion with both his head and his heart.
This faith underpinned a life of public service—and nowhere was it more evident than in Lieberman’s observance of Shabbat. Even while serving in the US Senate, he refused to let pressing schedules trample upon his beliefs. If a critical vote needed to be cast on a Friday evening or Saturday, he would walk miles to the Capitol rather than drive, thus honoring both his commitment to the law of his faith and his duties to his constituents.
He was fond of quoting the Hebrew writer Ahad Ha’am’s adage, “More than the Jews have kept the Sabbath, the Sabbath has kept the Jews.” In other words, Shabbat was not an impediment to his Senate career but actually gave him the strength to continue on and stay connected to his family, his community and his faith.
This devotion was striking in a world where conscience and character are too often compromised by the demands of politics and power. Lieberman’s commitment to principle not only did not harm him politically but, on the contrary, made him a much beloved and admired figure by his colleagues and the public alike.
Even while serving in the US Senate, he refused to let pressing schedules trample upon his beliefs. If a critical vote needed to be cast on a Friday evening or Saturday, he would walk miles to the Capitol rather than drive.
That same moral fiber manifested in the most competitive arenas. In the exceedingly close and contentious 2000 presidential election—in which he served as Al Gore’s running mate—Lieberman exemplified grace under pressure. When the close contest was called for George W. Bush, Lieberman, along with Gore, graciously accepted the outcome, modeling a sense of integrity that transcended partisanship. He was admired not only because of what he stood for but also for how he conducted himself.
Lieberman understood that politics is not an end in itself, but a means to achieve meaningful goals for the nation. This perspective informed his bipartisan efforts and helped him create enduring friendships. He worked seamlessly with Republicans and Democrats alike, forging alliances based on shared values rather than narrow political expedience. He was well known for his close ties to Republican Senators John McCain and Lindsey Graham—the trio came to be known as the “three amigos.” Graham once quipped, “When I grow up, I want to be like Joe Lieberman.” McCain’s friendship with Lieberman was also legendary. McCain once told me about a joint trip to Iraq with Lieberman, on which Lieberman woke up early to recite the morning prayers. When McCain awoke and saw his fellow senator all wrapped up in tallit and tefillin, he said he thought he had died and gone to Heaven. McCain was fond of complaining about how his friendship with Lieberman meant having kosher restrictions imposed on him too. In Lieberman’s office after he had retired from the Senate, he had a picture on which McCain inscribed: “Joe, we miss you here in the Senate, but I sure don’t miss the salmon.”
Rabbi Menachem Genack, CEO of OU Kosher, with Senator Lieberman.
Lieberman’s devotion to bipartisan cooperation stemmed in part from his larger view of freedom and law. His book With Liberty and Justice reflects this perspective. In it, he seeks to restore recognition to the often-overlooked Jewish festival of Shavuot, pairing it with Pesach as essential bookends of a moral narrative. Pesach celebrates the liberation from bondage; Shavuot commemorates the giving of the law at Sinai. For Lieberman, these two holidays are “two acts in the same drama,” inextricably linked, because genuine freedom demands the guidance of moral law. This belief mirrors his political stance: without the rule of law and the responsibilities it entails, freedom can descend into chaos. Through law, society safeguards its liberties and ensures that freedom remains a structured, enduring inheritance. Before Pesach each year, Lieberman would hold a model Seder for his Senate colleagues to help them understand this central institution of Judaism whose underlying message extends to all of humanity.
Lieberman’s passion for freedom and faith found expression in his attention to correcting an unfortunate omission. The Liberty Bell in Philadelphia was rung in 1776 when the Declaration of Independence was first read to the public, and the bell is famously inscribed with the verse “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof,” a citation from the Book of Leviticus (25:10). In 2009, my good friend Dr. Joel Wolowelsky informed me that a visitor to the Liberty Bell saw this text translated into many languages—with one conspicuous absence: the original Hebrew version of this verse was absent from the Liberty Bell Center, operated by the National Park Service. I brought this to the attention of then-Senator Lieberman, who immediately conveyed this message to the National Park Service. After some of the usual bureaucratic wrangling, Lieberman made sure that the original Hebrew text was added to the monument, serving as a fitting reminder that the ideals of this country are rooted in the Hebrew Bible.
Lieberman’s devotion to his family life was as unwavering as his commitment to public service. He cherished his wife, Hadassah, a strong and compassionate partner who shared his values and supported his career with grace and dignity. Recently, their daughter Hani welcomed a baby boy into the family, whom she and her husband named Yosef, after her father.
Ultimately, Joe Lieberman was a statesman whose principles went beyond partisan labels. He showed that legislative success and cross-party friendships were not merely possible, but vital. His humility, faith-infused worldview, and belief in law as the necessary guardian of liberty set him apart in Washington and won him near-universal admiration. For Lieberman, the Senate was never just a platform for personal gain; it was an arena in which to pursue the common good, guided by reason, tempered by faith and suffused with that rare humility so needed in the nation’s capital. In his books, Joe refers to me as his teacher and friend, but while I did study Torah with him, in truth he was my teacher—not for what he taught me about a specific text but for what he demonstrated through his life as a whole, in his personal character and in his moral qualities. Having reached the pinnacle of public life, Joe Lieberman embodied the Gemara’s teaching (Yoma 86a) about the mitzvah to “make the name of Heaven beloved” such that people say, “See how pleasant are his ways, how proper are his deeds. The verse states about him: ‘You are My servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified’ (Yeshayahu 49:3).”
Rabbi Menachem Genack is CEO of OU Kosher.