For a time, the Talmudic hero Rabbi Meir was targeted by local thugs. He prayed for them to die. His wife Beruriah, an even greater Talmudic hero, overheard him. “How can you think such a prayer is permitted?” she asked. “Do you think Psalm 104 says, ‘let sinners cease’? It says ‘let sin cease’!” Rabbi Meir prayed for the thugs, and they repented (Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 10a).
In this story, Rabbi Meir seems the realist, and Beruriah the idealist. Under attack, Rabbi Meir prays for victory. Observing only her husband’s distress, Beruriah prays for peace.
Or is Rabbi Meir the idealist, hoping to blow away his problems in a single fiery blast? While Beruriah is the realist, teaching that violence fails to address the causes of trouble?
Of course you will recognize these questions in today’s news. Is it realistic or idealistic to advocate for U.S. involvement in a ground war? Is it realistic or idealistic for Canada to welcome refugees, hoping to give the lie to radical Islamists’ anti-Western narrative? No one knows the answers, though everyone has an opinion, based on their own experience and education.
This morning in synagogue, I faced Beruriah’s question: how should we pray?
The siddur (Jewish prayerbook) tells us how our ancestors prayed while under attack:
You rescued us from Egypt, YHWH our God, and redeemed us from slavery. You destroyed their first born and rescued your first born. You split the sea, you drowned the demons, you let your friends pass. Waters covered their enemies, not a single one remained. For this, your beloved ones praised and exalted their God (Daily liturgy).
These gloating words, harsh and raw, upset me. My own heart prefers the words of Brian Wagenaar, a 21-year old Minnesota man quoted in The New York Times. “Xenophobic sentiment is natural. But it doesn’t feel great. We’ve been conditioned to know it’s wrong. We all have to safeguard against an inner Trump” (Dec 11, 2015).
Of course that’s my opinion. Beruriah is my middle name, and I was raised in peacetime, a rare treat for a human being. So, I do understand when the siddur speaks of wars in faraway times and places.
For the miracles, and for the salvation, and for military might, and for the salvation, and for the wars that you did for our ancestors in those days in this season (Hanukkah liturgy).
And I understand when the gratitude is followed by a request:
Place peace, goodness, and blessing in the world, grace and love and compassion…Bless us, our father, all of us as one, with the light of your face (Daily liturgy).
Inspired by the siddur, I can formulate my own words: God, may I understand you as a controller of history? Thank you for leading our ancestors to victory, and enabling my life today. But can’t prayers for victory be a thing of the past? This time, please intervene a little sooner, and grant peace right now.
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This time, please intervene a little sooner, and grant peace right now.
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Prayers for peace should certainly precede prayers for victory. But in the midst of a war, "Change the hearts of our opponents" may sound a bit weak. And it's of little value for soldiers, during battle, when God's strength – not His mercy – is often needed.
When I was much younger, during the Vietnam war, I looked at arguments that Judaism supported pacifism — that prayers for victory should _never_ be said, except during a campaign of non-violent resistance. R. Everett Gendler (and others) have taken that position, if I remember right, and there's justification for it in the tradition.
Then I visited a Jewish museum in Paris, and found a display about an argument within the Jewish community, about whether it was permissible to use guns to resist the Nazis. Not:
. . . "Is it a good idea politically, because of possible repercussions from the invaders?",
but:
. . . "Does halacha let us use violence against our enemies?"
That argument, at that time, seems absurd to me — a denial of reality — with benefit of hindsight. We live in a messy world, and (to misquote our national anthem) the hands that can carry a Torah must sometimes carry a sword. Once you pick up that sword, you must continue to pray for peace, but that's a background to praying for victory in the next battle.
That's how I understand the world, anyway. It's not comfortable at all. And it doesn't answer the question (which is always morally appropriate):
. . . "When do we pick up the sword? When do we put it down?"
I may have hijacked your post — sorry!
. Charles
Waiting for your blog! This would be a great post. Regarding the halachic argument, it’s also a matter of speaking in the language in which people think, a language that moved people. Something that would be a generally helpful principle in conflict resolution!
Thank you for the compliment! I have some ideas about the new “relations with the Jews” document from the Vatican, as well.
Like you, I wish that prayers for victory _could_ be a thing of the past. The older I get, the less likely that seems. I wish “the arc of history” were bending the other way.