A New Prayer for Israel
Every Sabbath, Zionist synagogues in America pray for the flourishing of the state of Israel and for the safety and health of its soldiers. Since October 7, 2023, they have offered these prayers more fervently, and added other ones, especially for the return of the hostages. And yet, something is missing from our prayers.
When our father Jacob faced the approach of Esau and his four hundred men, he “greatly feared and was distressed” (Genesis 32:8). (I draw here and elsewhere from the NJPS translation.) Why both fear and distress? Says Rashi: He feared that he might be killed, and he was distressed that he might be compelled to kill. King David engaged in many battles, and never does the Bible suggest that he waged them without cause. Yet God forbade him from building the temple, God’s house, because David had “spilled much blood and fought great battles” (1 Chronicles 22:8). The construction of the temple would have to wait for Solomon, his son, who reigned in peace. Earlier, as a young man, David praised Abigail, Nabal’s wife, for her wise intervention that restrained David from “seeking redress in blood by [his] own hands” (1 Samuel 25:33) against Nabal; to kill him would have been “needless” (ibid. 25:31), even though David evidently had adequate justification to do so.
When Abraham returned from warring against the four kings, God assured him, “do not fear” (Genesis 15:1). And what did he fear? Among other things, according to Rashi, he feared that he might be punished for the deaths that he had caused. The Jewish tradition hates death, even though it insists that the evildoer must die, and it hates war, even as it recognizes that war is sometimes necessary. Not only that: We know that “when permission is given to the destroyer to destroy, [the destroyer] does not distinguish between good and bad” (Rashi ad Exodus 12:22); that it is difficult, in the fog of war and the heat of battle, to make such distinctions; that our weapons sometimes—by accident, by negligence, in passion—inflict damage without due discrimination.
A great number of people have died over the course of Israel’s military response to Hamas’ attack on October 7, likely over fifty thousand. Many of the casualties were legitimate and proper targets, but there is still something unholy in the taking of their lives. A substantial percentage of the dead were altogether innocent, or in any case not themselves legitimate targets, and we who spilled their blood bear guilt.
Hamas must of course be condemned for its genocidal aggression and its cynical use of human shields, but the state of Israel remains an agent that makes choices. Golda Meir is famously reputed to have said: “When peace comes we will perhaps in time be able to forgive the Arabs for killing our sons, but it will be harder for us to forgive them for having forced us to kill their sons.” This statement assumes that killing their sons, even when forced, is a terrible thing. It is especially terrible when the dead are collateral damage, and even more when their deaths could have been prevented through the application of greater care or by the adoption of alternative feasible tactics and strategies, or when they were the direct result of negligence. We are far from perfect, in intention or in execution, and we are responsible for the consequences of our imperfections. While I have spoken of death, that greatest and most definitive harm, these reflections apply, by extension, to other great harms: trauma, hunger, homelessness, etc.
American Jews who feel bound to the state of Israel must identify also with the acts of violence that it undertakes. I do not speak at all in legal terms, of course, nor even in moral terms; I speak theologically. But what of the hate-poisoned “globalizers of the Intifada,” the “by any means necessary” anti-Zionists who incite to murder? What of the international institutions and global media outlets that demonize Israel with their double standards and their instinct immediately to assume the worst? Do we not empower them when we speak of guilt? I do not think that it makes a practical difference for them. But the main point is this: We cannot let terrorists and enemies hijack our relationship with God. We must pray on our own terms.
I offer the following prayer, written in the four-beat, unrhymed line characteristic of ancient piyyut. One person might pray it with an inner reluctance, conceding Israel’s inevitable, all too human inability to realize its ideals in full. Another might pray it with frustration, finding that it gives inadequate expression to the extent of the wrong choices, in her view, that the government of the country that she loves has made. We pray as a congregation, and so we must find a common language.
הִנֶּנּוּ אָבִינוּ עֲנִיֵּי מַעַשׂ
צַר לָנוּ מְאוֹד נִפְּלָה בְיָדֶךָ
נָתַתָּ גְּאֻלָּה לְאֶרֶץ קָדְשֵׁנוּ
וּכְמַחֲנֵה פְּלֵטָה בָּאנוּ צִיּוֹן
מִמְּךָ כֹּחֵנוּ וְעָצְמַת חֵילֵנוּ
מְלַמֵּד יָדֵינוּ לַקְרָב אָתָּה
מִלְחָמוֹת גְּדוֹלוֹת וְקָשׁוֹת עָשִׂינוּ
דָּם לָרֹב שָׁפַכְנוּ אַרְצָה
הֵמַתְנוּ יַחַד צַדִּיק עִם רָשָׁע
וְאֵיךְ נֹאמַר צַדִּיקִים אֲנַחְנוּ
מָגֵן אַבְרָהָם הָאוֹמֵר אַל תִּירָא
בְּרָדְפוֹ לַיְלָה עַד דַּמָּשֶׂק
שׁוֹמֵר יִשְׂרָאֵל אֲשֶׁר מְנָעוֹ
מִבּוֹא בְּדָמִים עַל גְּבוּל יַרְדֵּן
הַחוֹנֵן אֶת דָּוִד פְּרִי בָטֶן
לִבְנוֹת לוֹ בַּיִת בְּשָׁלוֹם וָשֶׁקֶט
סְלַח וּמְחַל לִשְׁנִי חֲטָאֵינוּ
הַצִּילֵנוּ מִדָּמִים וְהֶרֶב כַּבְּסֵנוּ
תְּלַמְּדֵנוּ דַעַת לְהַכִּיר צַלְמֶךָ
לְהִשָּׁמֵר מְאֹד וְלִשְׁמֹר נָפֶשׁ
וְלֹא לָנֶצַח תֹּאכַל חָרֶב
וְעֵת מַזְמֵרוֹת יַגִּיעַ לְאַרְצֵנוּ
We stand here, our Father, poor in deeds.[1]
We are greatly distressed. Let us fall into Your hands.[2]
You granted redemption to our holy land,[3]
And as a remnant camp we came to Zion.[4]
From You is our strength, and the power of our forces.[5]
You are He who trains our hands for war.[6]
Great and hard battles have we fought.
Much blood have we spilled to the ground.[7]
We have brought death on innocents along with the guilty,[8]
And how can we say, “we are innocent”?[9]
Shield of Abraham, who said, “do not fear,”
When he pursued by night to Damascus;[10]
Watcher of Israel who held him back
From redressing in blood by the Jordan border;[11]
He who graced David with fruit of the womb
To build Him a house in peace and tranquility—[12]
Forgive and pardon our scarlet sins.
Save us from bloodguilt and thoroughly wash us.[13]
Teach us to know to recognize Your image,
To take utmost care, to care for souls.[14]
And may the sword not devour forever,[15]
And may the time for pruning hooks come to our land.[16]
[1] See the cantor’s introduction to the musaf prayer on the High Holidays.
[2] See Genesis 32:8 and 2 Samuel 24:14, incorporated into the tahanun prayer.
[3] See Leviticus 25:24.
[4] See Genesis 32:9.
[5] See Deuteronomy 8:17.
[6] See Psalms 144:1.
[7] For this and the previous line see 1 Chronicles 22:8.
[8] See Genesis 18:25.
[9] See the viduy for the Day of Atonement.
[10] For this and the previous line see Genesis 15:1; 14:15.
[11] For this and the previous line see Genesis 32; 1 Samuel 25:26, 33.
[12] For this and the previous line see 1 Chronicles 22:9.
[13] For this and the previous line see Psalms 51:4, 9, 16.
[14] See Deuteronomy 4:9.
[15] See 1 Samuel 2:26.
[16] See Isaiah 1:4; Song of Songs 2:12.
