The July 14, 2006, issue of Commonweal carried an article by Michael J. Perry, entitled The Morality of Human Rights: A Problem for Nonbelievers?. In that article, as in his books The Idea of Human Rights: Four Inquiries, and Toward a Theory of Human Rights: Religion, Law, Courts, Perry argues that a plausible nonreligious foundation for the idea of human rights has yet to be articulated—that this idea, therefore, appears to be unavoidably religious. He expresses concern that “the growing marginalization of religious belief in many societies that have taken human rights seriously—in particular, in many liberal democracies… may leave those societies bereft of the intellectual resources to sustain the morality of human rights.”

Nicholas Wolterstorff shares Perry's judgment. “It is impossible to develop a secular account of human dignity adequate for grounding human rights. Or to speak more cautiously: given that, after many attempts, no one has succeeded in developing such an account, it seems unlikely that it can be done.”

Is there anything that a contemporary (post-) modern legal theory could or even should learn from the traditional Jewish concept of law? Before we can look for an answer to this question, we should reply to an obvious objection. Apparently, our question implies that there is “the” Jewish understanding in a problematic singular, which can then be compared to “the” Christian or Islamic concept of law. Thus, in contrast to some attempts to describe the complex idea of “monotheism,” with all its multiple genealogies, transitions and recursive conjunctions, these different religions are portrayed as sharply disconnected, unitary phenomena. Yet we do not intend such an essentialistic perspective. We will neither neglect the fact that one can find totally different conceptions within the Jewish tradition nor claim that our view represents the “actual” Jewish conception, i.e. the conception most adequate in terms of the Jewish belief—not even in the paradoxical form that states that “controversy among authorities” is “the central unit in the study of Jewish law.” Our interest is not one stemming from the concerns of religious studies, but one of legal theory. Hence, what we claim is just this: there is within the Jewish tradition a concept of law which so closely interrelates text and interpretation that it undermines the classical hermeneutic idea of an author and the meaning that he wants to give to his text. This particular understanding of the law focused on the process of reading demonstrates a remarkable resemblance to certain post-structuralist analyses of the connection between a text and its reading. Within the Jewish tradition, we will argue, the constitution of language and the understanding of law are closely interrelated.

This article comments on a definition of religion recently proffered by Brian Leiter. Leiters definition first appeared in a paper arguing that there is no principled reason for the Constitution to single out religion as one of many forms of conscience for special tolerance. Martha Nussbaum then suggested that we owe something more than mere tolerance for religious belief; in our efforts to make sense of the world, we owe “a special respect for the faculty in human beings in which they search for life's ultimate meaning.” In a later paper, Leiter uses the same definition of religion to argue that Nussbaum is wrong. My argument can be expressed positively: if Nussbaum is right, she is also right that the concept of religious belief (as opposed to particular conceptions or instantiations of it) is entitled to as much respect as any other kind of belief, because once we are talking about any kind of belief it is difficult to draw a principled line. Stated negatively, Leiter's attack is ultimately circular: the problem with religion is that it is not science. Exposing the circularity requires identifying the trick, which is that Leiter employs an appeal to common sense to distinguish religion and science under a bright line definition. Nevertheless, the very belief in common sense Leiter employs here is the same as the belief in religion Leiter attacks: it is categorical and insulated from further reasons.

Perhaps in part because Jews did not enjoy sovereignty for most of their history and thus rarely organized, much less directed, military institutions, the Jewish textual tradition says relatively little about the exercise of corporal punishment during warfare. This dearth of classical sources, however, does not mean that Judaism has nothing to offer contemporary deliberation about the ethics of torture. On the contrary, modern Jews plumb the textual tradition in search of prooftexts that ground their passionately held positions vis-à-vis torture. And this is precisely one of the methodological conundrums torture poses. In their search for corroborating principles, verses and halakhah (law) for their positions, Jewish scholars often gloss over countervailing values, texts and laws. Some trot out such broad principles as betzelem elohim (the notion that every human is made in the divine image), al tonu (do not oppress the stranger), or lagoyim (a light unto the nations), kavod habriot (respect creatures), chillul hashem (desecrating God's name), or lo ta ’amod al dam re ’echa (do not stand on your neighbor's blood) so as to condemn or condone torture without considering countervailing principles. Others point to certain laws, such as those pertaining to the rodef (stopping a pursuer who has lethal intent against another) or hora’at sha’ah (emergency exigency) to justify their positions on torture—without entertaining other relevant legal precedents. And a few others blandly state Judaism's position vis-à-vis torture without providing much or any evidence supporting those claims.

The norms that the official legal systems of North American and European states apply do not derive directly from any religion. While some of those norms, such as some of the norms governing marriage, do originate, historically, in religion and religious law, no norms are today enforced by those legal systems because the norms are part of a specific religious legal order. And yet, adjudication according to religious norms is commonplace. In North America and Europe, the legal systems applying norms associated with specific religions to adherents of those religions are principally nonstate community tribunals. Outside this Northwestern world, state legal systems, particularly those of Muslim-majority jurisdictions, often permit religious normative materials to be applied to adherents of the relevant religions as a matter of state law. Both situations are examples of legal pluralism.

The popularity of the application of religious norms by state legal systems throughout much of the contemporary world raises a challenge for the Western assumption that state-enforced legality and expressly religious norms should stay apart. Can a modern state provide its citizens, residents and others subject to its power with a just and stable legal order by referring them to norms associated with their several religions and enforced by state courts?

Abortion, along with same-sex unions, is perhaps one of the world's most polarizing issues today. Laws on abortion vary across different jurisdictions, from prohibiting abortion under all circumstances to freely allowing it without restriction as to reason. Unlike rights such as freedom from torture or of speech, failure to recognize abortion rights is not necessarily the product of illiberal governments known to abuse human rights, nor is allowing abortion indicative of a good human rights record. Extensive rights to terminate a pregnancy may be symptomatic of a government's policy for population control, as in the case of China, or it may be an expression of the liberal philosophy of autonomy, as in the case of Canada.

What does it mean for a religious belief to be true? This question has been the subject of a rich theological and philosophical debate stretching back thousands of years. But times change, and the answers appropriate for one epoch will cease to fit new ones. As long as people continue to care about their religions and their beliefs, the question must be continually posed and competing answers evaluated.

In the United States, facially theological questions quickly take on constitutional dimensions, thanks to the religion clauses of the First Amendment. Government interaction with religion is inevitable, and ongoing public debate about the proper scope and limits of that interaction is a familiar and necessary component of our constitutional order. The meaning of “free exercise of religion” and its infringement is the continuously evolving product of litigation, legislation, and regulation pursued by state and private actors against a backdrop of assumed—and often contested—constitutional constraints and constitutional ideals.

We live in an era of remarkable and wonderful technological advances. We also live in an era of tremendous economic, environmental and social upheaval. Given these circumstances, today's leaders must make decisions of overwhelming importance in a world that is changing rapidly.

In these confusing times, what values can our leaders look to as they try to address the many challenges that we face? Which values, if followed, are most likely to bring us the security and the happiness that we desire?

Those who came before us had to survive difficult times of their own, and their experiences shaped the ways in which they looked at the world. Each generation taught the next generation those perspectives and those strategies that had helped them be successful; and over the centuries and even millennia, this ancient wisdom became condensed into fundamental values. We may take it for granted, since our values are such an intrinsic part of our lifestyles, but one of the greatest gifts that our ancestors gave to us are these values—the collective wisdom of the ages.

In New York City on March 18, 2005 Dr. Amina Wadud shocked the Muslim world when she led a mixed-gender congregation in the Friday prayer. The Friday congregational prayer is at the center of Muslim religiosity. On Friday mid-day, Muslims come together as a community and turn collectively toward God. The form of the prayer affirms the community's identity; Muslims pray as brothers and sisters equal before God. They stand in straight lines, shoulder to shoulder. No one has a reserved spot. The rich stand next to the poor.

In his recent encyclical Caritas in Veritate, Pope Benedict XVI grapples with one of the most vexing paradoxes concerning the current global economic crisis. There is no question that it is a global financial crisis. The collapse of the subprime mortgage loan market in the U.S. in 2007 prefigured similar collapses of real estate bubbles in other parts of the world. The collapse of these real estate bubbles exposed the degree of interconnectedness among financial institutions across the globe created by the worldwide market for the derivate investment products created on the backs of the underlying real estate loans—the mortgage-backed securities in all their complex manifestations, and the credit default swaps that were essentially insurance policies on the risks of default of these securities. Various configurations of international coordinating bodies have called for global responses to the crisis. At its root, however, the current crisis is in a very important sense fundamentally a uniquely local phenomenon. It is the result of individual consumer transactions that are about as inherently local as a commercial transaction can ever get—loans to specific individual consumers tied to specific unique, unmovable pieces of residential real estate. Every single loan packaged into the bundles of investment opportunities that became “toxic assets” held by large institutional investors originated with a contractual relationship between an individual borrower and a single lender. In addition to the global macroeconomic consequences of the collapse of this market, every one of these loans that goes into default has personal consequences for the individual borrower whose home is the collateral for that loan.

Western bookstores today are full of small boxes that advertise “Voodoo Revenge Kit” on the front. Their short descriptions encourage anyone who wishes to harm a cheating lover and curse a difficult boss to buy this product. Companies now sell t-shirts, mugs, buttons and key chains with “voodoo dolls,” and bound figures with needles through the heart. Novels, newspapers, and movies have, for over a century, produced representations of human sacrifice, cannibalism and devil worship as rituals central to the practice Obeah, Vodou and Santeria. U.S. televangelist Pat Robertson even remarked that the catastrophic earthquake in Haiti on January 12, 2010, was God's retribution on Haitians for practicing voodoo and making a “pact with the devil.” Remarkably, few people recognize that these depictions are, to a large degree, linked to slavery and racism, which continue to leave their stain on the past and present laws of American and Caribbean nations.

During the past fifteen years, the European Court of Human Rights has been engaging seriously with the freedom of religion and belief under Article 9 of the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms. In many ways, the scope and ambition of the Court's jurisprudence has been breathtaking, especially when viewed from the United States; but many questions have begun to emerge about whether the Court has established an intellectual and conceptual architecture that is up to the task of dealing with the increasingly complex cases involving religious freedom that the Court is currently facing and will soon face. Accordingly, several sections of the Association of American Law Schools sponsored a program in January, 2010 entitled, “The Freedom of Religion and Belief Jurisprudence of the European Court of Human Rights: Legal, Moral, Political and Religious Perspectives.”

The Article 9 religious freedom jurisprudence of the European Court of Human Rights most basically concerns the question of religious pluralism. The “principle of pluralism seems to be the main—the core—principle” guiding the Court's religious freedom jurisprudence, argues one of the Court's judges. Assessing the Court's work in the area of religious freedom therefore requires considering its treatment of pluralism, which is the concept most often employed to interpret Article 9 of the European Convention on Human Rights. The Court's approach to religious pluralism is still heavily indebted to the decision in Kokkinakis v. Greece, a 1993 case involving a Jehovah's Witness who had been repeatedly arrested and jailed for violating Greece's prohibition on proselytism. In the majority opinion finding that Mr. Kokkinakis's Article 9 rights had been violated, the Court writes the following: