My maternal grandfather, my zaide, was a fervent mitnaged who lived in a predominantly chassidic neighborhood in Brooklyn.

 Although not a socialist, he worked for a Yiddish socialist daily newspaper. His religious and political commitments did not prevent him from having cordial relationships with his neighbours and co-workers. He davened in a Williamsburg shul with other mitnagdim, voted his choice in local and national elections, and used neither religious nor political affiliation as a litmus for whom he trusted and admired.

Lately, I find myself musing about what my zaide would make of the current elections south of the border. Zaide loved America for the rich and relatively untroubled Jewish life of New York, and also for the opportunities it offered his children – okay, his sons, Zaide was no feminist – where their Jewishness and religious practice would not pose a barrier. There were, of course, still quotas on Jewish admissions to professional schools, and firms that would not hire Jews. But Jews with talent and perseverance could often succeed, and there were even companies where religious observance might be accommodated. Zaide believed that good and trustworthy people could share a neighbourhood, a workplace, a city, a country, and get along.

I imagine he would be as perturbed as I by the way that religion has come front and centre stage in the campaign for the U.S. presidential elections. In the primaries, and now in the two-party heat, candidates and wannabes fall over themselves declaiming their “faith.” For example, during one debate, a questioner demanded that each of the Republican candidates declare whether he believed the words of the Bible to be “literally true.”

More recently, the very first time the two parties’ candidates shared a stage was at evangelical Pastor Rick Warren’s California mega-church, Saddleback Church. The candidates outdid one another affirming their faith as Christians. Barak Obama declared, “Jesus Christ died for my sins, and that I am redeemed through Him.” John McCain affirmed, “I’m saved and forgiven.” And, he noted, “Our faith encompasses not just the United States of America, but the world.”

I confess to being more than a tad uncomfortable with this public declamation in the context of presidential elections. I couldn’t help but wonder: what if one of the candidates had not been Christian? What if he had been Jewish? Or Buddhist? Or – gasp – an atheist? Why this deserve centre ring in the political circus?

Certainly, like anyone, a candidate’s religious beliefs may inform the values by which he lives and will lead and govern. But in the U.S. political arena, the protestation of “religious values” – pace Joe Lieberman – has always meant Christian values. Ironically, many who talk the talk don’t always walk the walk – that is, faith declarations notwithstanding, many place footloose and fancy-free with the Ten Commandments, and sometimes with the Seven Noahide Laws. And many agnostics and atheists are deeply principled.

This focus on religious faith, essentially, on Christianity, means, too, that many ethical issues are framed one-dimensionally, as though there is a religious and a – call it secular, call it heathen, call it godless – viewpoint. This unnecessarily limits the terms of debates on such important issues as organ donation, stem cell research, and end-of-life, where Jews and Christians may parse the ethics differently.

But I’m not opposed to the increased importance of religion in the civic arena simply because my own religion, as a minority, gets short shrift. I object because it removes focus from the real questions: what political policies will the candidate pursue, how will the candidate govern? Or, to put it differently, I’m less interested in a politician’s faith professions, and more interested in what he or she has done and will do.

Perhaps this, too, is a Jewish response. In Pirkei Avot, Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel famously stated, Lo hamedrash haikar ela hamaaseh – it is not study but practice, deeds, that matter. I think my zaide, alav hashalom, would agree with my plea to keep religion out of the political arena. Without seeking ideological or religious uniformity, Zaide was respected – and he respected others – for qualities of integrity, honesty and kindness. That would get my vote, too.