A Cry in the Darkness: Wrestling with the Moral Dilemma of War
The cries of pain echo through history – a chilling symphony of suffering that chills us to our very core. “Should we kill our enemies?” The question hangs heavy in the air, a stark and brutal inquiry born out of unimaginable circumstances. The instinct to protect, to defend, to strike back against those who would seek to harm us – it’s a primal force, deeply woven into the fabric of our being. When confronted with the horrors of war, the atrocities inflicted upon innocents, it’s easy to understand why such a question arises with such agonizing intensity.
We are reminded of the story of Moses, descending Mount Sinai, tablets of the covenant in hand, only to be met with the shattering betrayal of the golden calf. Fury, righteous and consuming, burned within him. He shattered the tablets, symbols of hope and divine promise, shattered by the weight of human fallibility. Yet, even in that moment of profound rage, Moses didn’t succumb to blind vengeance. He became an intercessor, a bridge between fury and forgiveness, pleading for his people even as they faltered.
To claim that we do not grapple with these emotions within ourselves is to deny the depth of our human experience. We are complex beings, capable of great love and profound darkness. But within the very heart of our tradition, within the wisdom passed down through generations, lies a profound understanding: we do not combat darkness with more darkness. We don’t fight fire with fire, but with the resolute strength of water, the unwavering current of compassion, and the enduring power of hope.
Does this mean we stand idly by in the face of evil? Do we passively accept suffering and injustice? No. Our tradition teaches us the imperative of fighting for what is right, for protecting the vulnerable, and for standing up to oppression. But our strength, our truest might, lies not in mirroring the brutality we seek to overcome, but in striving for something higher.
This is not a naive plea for pacifism, but a recognition of the profound responsibility that accompanies the taking of a life. To wage war, even in self-defense, should be a decision made with a heavy heart, a recognition of the terrible toll it takes on all involved.
The Baal Shem Tov teaches that even within the shattered fragments of a broken vessel, sparks of holiness remain. Our task, then, is not to obliterate our enemies but to see past the hate that blinds them, to recognize the flicker of their own inherent goodness, and to strive to build a world where those sparks can be kindled into flames.
This is the true battle before us: not a war waged with weapons of steel, but a struggle for the very soul of humanity. It demands courage, not just on the battlefield, but in the quiet spaces of our hearts, where we choose compassion over vengeance, understanding over hatred. And in those choices, in that unwavering commitment to our highest selves, we will find the strength to build a world worthy of our children’s children.
This piece was inspired by Rabbi Simon Jacobson’s teachings on overcoming adversity and finding hope in challenging times. To learn more about his insights, you can watch his talk on Confronting Chaos.
