The Close of Passover and Shemini: Game Theory, Justice, and the Iran War |
As the sun set on Tuesday night, American Jews turned off their phones in anticipation of the last two days of Passover, while news had started to spread of an impending ceasefire in America’s war against Iran. The attention of those observing the holiday would be turned to the theme of those last days, the miraculous events of the Splitting of the Sea, a phenomenon that tradition maintains was more glorious and memorable than the Exodus itself, to which the holiday as a whole is devoted and which dominates the discussion at the Seder table.
The Splitting of the Sea has a complex expression in Jewish practice. While its miraculous nature is given great focus and appreciation, the Hallel prayer of gratitude is actually abbreviated for the second part of the festival. One traditional explanation correlates this to a statement in the Talmud that describes God silencing his ministering angels who wanted to sing praises to him on this occasion. “My creations, the Egyptians, are drowning in the sea”. He admonishes, “How can you sing at this moment?” (Sanhedrin 39b, Megillah 10b).
The nuanced attitude is adopted by the people. They do sing, a song for the ages that is incorporated into the daily liturgy; and tradition, picking up on the future-tense formation of the verb yashir, teaches that it is a song that will endure into the messianic age (Sanhedrin 91b), when even the Exodus may be overshadowed (Berakhot 12b). Yet, it is also true that the Hallel that is recited on the festival that commemorates this event is abbreviated. The suffering of human beings, even of hardened enemies, is acknowledged and incorporated into the structure of celebration, a reflection of the fact that, as the Talmud stresses, God does not rejoice in the downfall of His creatures and neither should Man.
The balance of emotions that is incorporated into the Song of the Sea stands alongside another complex message that the Splitting of the Sea conveys. About twenty years ago, Professor Robert Aumann, who won the Nobel Prize for his work in Game Theory, saw his field represented in that epochal event. The Jews were the recipients of magnificent grace on that day. At the same time, their persecutors were punished severely. Both, he understands, are necessary messages. For good to prevail, it is crucial for it to be credibly conveyed that righteousness will be rewarded and evil will be punished. The events of that day are designed to broadcast for posterity that both fates are real.
The haftarah that is read on that seventh day of Passover, when the Splitting of the Sea is read, contains the words, “With the loyal, You deal loyally; with the wholehearted mighty man you are whole-hearted. With the pure one You are pure, but with the crooked You are devious (II Samuel 22:26-27)”. This phrasing, taken as guidance for dealing with those who would purport to commit evil (Megillah 13b, Bava Batra 123a) is not merely a license for the self-defense of the righteous, but is rather a mandate to them. It is not saintly to maintain one’s clean hands and allow the wicked to carry out their plans. The priority of protecting the innocents of the world demands active engagement with the tactics of the devious and their resolute defeat.
Crucially, the two themes of the Splitting of the Sea converge. The total impact of consequences is particularly significant, coming as it does in the context of the nuanced message of gratitude for the salvation of victims that is paired with recognition of the loss of human offenders, as necessary as it may be. That cost is extracted not because of callousness or disregard for the lives involved, but quite the opposite; the price is understood and yet assessed as needed for the pursuit of justice.
As the developments in the war with Iran continue to evolve, the need for meaningful messaging from America is as vital as it ever has been. The notion that there is a consequence for the sponsorship of terrorism, threats of national annihilation, and international destabilization, becomes the defining moral of the moment. The willingness to negotiate, if there is indeed space for that, must at a minimum be coupled with the clear conveying that evil will not be tolerated and that the consequence of corruption is clear. The pairing of threats, even of severe and devastating ones, with the expression of hope for universal salvation is an appropriate message.
Whether that is indeed what is taking place is its own question. Peggy Noonan, writing in the Wall Street Journal, details her serious doubts that the tone of the President has been a productive one. She questions if his behavior even meets the standard of the “madman theory” that may have worked for Richard Nixon, which meant that “world leaders knew he wasn’t crazy but might be tripped into extreme behavior by an adversary’s intransigence.”
In truth, the theory evoked by the Splitting of the Sea is anything but that of a madman. It is the declaration that justice eventually prevails and the righteous reap their rewards, while the wicked, despite the tragedy of their loss, must pay the price for their perfidy. It is painful and possibly dreadful, but there is nothing more sane than this.
The shocking death of Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, in this week’s Torah reading is the subject of at least eleven theories to explain the nature of their offense. The ambiguity serves to intensify the devastating nature of the event, to preserve the inexplicable quality inherent in such tragedies. In the place of articulation, we have instead silence: “VaYidom Aharon, and Aaron was quiet (Lev. 10:3)”.
Aaron’s wordlessness evokes great praise in the Talmud (Zevachim 115b). On the surface, the credit given to Aaron seems to attach to the facts of his silence and acceptance of the divine decree. However, in the midrash (Torat Kohanim, Shemini, 1:23), he is linked to other figures who were neither silent, nor experiencing a personal loss, such as Abraham praying for the people of Sodom, and Jacob in preparing for his encounter with Esau (see Asufat Ma’arakhot).
It seems, rather, that the praise given to Aaron in this context is a reference to a composed and balanced appreciation of the reality of God’s justice, and a moral clarity that recognizes both His role and His directives in all that happens, and the responsibilities that humans have within that context.
Rashi (based on Zevachim 115b) records that in recognition of Aharon ‘s response, he is credited with the law that is stated immediately afterwards: the prohibition of the kohen becoming intoxicated. R. Avraham Borenstein, the Avnei Nezer (Abir HaRoim, I, 103), explains the nature of this unusual compensation: intoxication is prohibited because it blurs the focus; Aaron, who maintained his focus and clarity of judgment at a time when it was so enormously difficult to do so, is memorialized as the epitome of sober wisdom.
The phrase “I will be sanctified through those that are close to me (b’krovai akadesh)” appears to refer to Nadav and Avihu. However, it can also be understood to refer to Aaron himself; there are extraordinary individuals who, through their reactions in moments of extreme challenge, sanctify God’s Name in a magnificent manner.
As the world stands once again at a crossroads, it is judgment and sobriety that are desperately needed. The waters parted, so many millennia ago, to allow righteousness a clear path ahead. That eternal model calls for a path of no less clarity today.