Judaism does not have a modern mechanism for excommunication. Yet ḥerem—the practice of excluding someone from communal standing—comes closest to expressing what many of us feel when a public figure’s actions profoundly violate Jewish ethical values.
How often do we look at someone in the news and quietly ask, “Are they Jewish?” And when the answer is yes—especially when that person is behaving in ways that cause real harm—we cringe. We hope the wider world understands that this individual does not represent the Jewish people as a whole.
Stephen Miller entered the immigration spotlight in 2009 when he began working for then-Senator Jeff Sessions, helping to craft opposition to bipartisan immigration legislation. He built his political identity as a hardline architect of immigration policy and joined Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign, writing speeches focused heavily on illegal immigration.
Since then, as a senior White House advisor on immigration and homeland security matters, Miller has pushed policies that include a quota of 3,000 immigration arrests per day, deprioritizing individuals with criminal convictions, and deploying ICE agents to cities such as Los Angeles, Portland, and Minnesota, with more deployments planned. His influence over Trump’s immigration agenda has been both significant and deeply troubling.
In 2018, Miller’s own uncle publicly condemned him, noting that had these same policies been in place a century earlier, their family would not have been able to escape pogroms in Belarus. His great-uncle, Wolf-Leib Glosser, fled persecution, came to America, and ultimately brought over the rest of the family—allowing them to survive and thrive. Without that opportunity, they, like millions of others, may have perished in the Holocaust. (Politico, August 2018)
That same year, Miller’s childhood rabbi rebuked him in a Rosh Hashanah sermon, lamenting the damage his actions have done to Jewish moral standing in the public sphere. (Washington Post, September 2018)
And still, as his name continues to surface in the news, many of us feel shame knowing that he is Jewish. We may even hope that, with a name like Miller, others don’t realize it—though we know they often do.
Recently, Rabbi Mark Levine (RRC-ordained) authored “A Symbolic Statement of Disassociation from Stephen Miller.” I read it, and I signed it.
I encourage you to read it as well, and if you feel moved, to add your name. The letter reminds us that the Torah commands us no fewer than 36 times to care for the stranger—an obligation that Miller’s policies consistently reject. As the Torah teaches: “You shall love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (Deuteronomy 10:19).
Stephen Miller’s actions and public conduct are morally incompatible with the values of Judaism. He does not speak for the Jewish people, our tradition, or our ethical commitments. As an act of communal conscience, the statement affirms that he should not be granted moral standing, honor, or communal legitimacy within Jewish spaces. It draws upon the ancient principle of ḥerem—not as punishment, but as a refusal to normalize conduct that violates the ethical core of Torah.
Will it make a difference? Some say no. But I believe that even saying something matters. Perhaps the difference is this very article. Perhaps there are things here you did not know. Every voice counts when speaking out against injustice.
The statement itself is clear that it is “symbolic and moral in nature. It does not carry legal, halakhic, or institutional authority. It reflects the conscience and ethical judgment of the individual signatory alone.” And symbols matter. Speaking our conscience gives voice to those who may not be able to share theirs.
That is why I signed it. Because I do not want anyone to believe that Stephen Miller represents the Jewish community—or our values.
