The Babylonian Talmud is a remarkable document. Pieced together by its rabbinic editors in the 6th century, it comprises a running discussion placing rabbis who lived over a several hundred-year period into a series of long, raucous conversations with one another. It contains discussion about law, science, ethics, and of course theology.
One of the most remarkable aspects of the Talmud is the breadth of the discussions that take place within the multiple volumes of this far-reaching colloquy. The boundaries of acceptable subject matter and permissible conjecture in this central religious text far exceed the kinds of religious discussions that you would expect to hear in this central text of the Jewish faith. The other extraordinary element of this literary marvel is that so many of the individual passages and explorations are still so relevant and enlightening even today.
One of the first passages that I learned remains among the most powerful. In it, the rabbis ask each other whether or not God prays, and if so, what prayer does the Almighty offer and to whom? One of the rabbis, a sage named Rav Zutra bar Tuvia answers that God does in fact pray. According to the opinion (or perhaps the imagination) of this ancient scholar, each day, God offers the following words: May it be My will that My mercy may suppress My anger, and that My mercy may prevail over My [other] attributes, so that I may deal with My children in the attribute of mercy and, on their behalf, stop short of the limit of strict justice.” (Babylonian Talmud Brachot 7a)
I remember being struck by the audacity of this rabbi who enabled him to place words in God’s (perhaps metaphorical) mouth. I remember pausing at the potentially comic element of God praying to God’s self. (Yes, it seems awkward, but to whom else might God pray?) And then I remember being struck by the wisdom of recognizing God’s dilemma: How can God balance between the divine responsibility to mete out strict justice and the divine desire to manifest as the source of mercy?
This fanciful vignette beautifully portrays the very real conflict of values that each of us must face individually and as part of our larger societies. In this difficult world in which we live, the need for boundaries is clear. According to the passage above, strict justice is the response that is fully appropriate when a boundary is crossed, when one person harms another and fails to respect the fact that each of us is created in the image of our Creator. Without justice, there are no boundaries. There is no safety. There can be no trust. Even love is threatened.
Mercy is the desire to embody exclusively kindness, support and generosity. Who doesn’t dream of a world in which anger is never inflamed and reprisal is never invited? In which each of us can be guided solely by compassion?
It must have been tempting for Rav Zutra to portray a world in which one of these undeniable realities trumps the other. But instead, his prayer teaches us that even God engages in a constant process of weighing the two and looking for a way to establish and support the boundaries that are necessary while, at the same time, extending as much kindness and empathy as is possible.
As a rabbi and a teacher, it is my prayer that we can emulate this divine process to the greatest extent possible. As we read about local and international conflicts and as we experience indignities and witness others who are suffering unacceptable injustices, may we always seek the path forward that emerges from wisdom and not anger and the course of action that stops short of strict justice and teaches that principles and expectations can established and expressed in ways that embody respect and invoke mercy and generosity.
About Rabbi Eric M. Rosin
Rabbi Eric Rosin began his professional career as an attorney in Los Angeles serving the entertainment industry, but discovered he needed to be doing something he was passionate about. He left the practice of law and began studying for ordination at the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies in Los Angeles. After ordination, Rabbi Rosin served for two years as the assistant rabbi of Temple Beth-El in Richmond, Va., then assumed the pulpit at Kesher Israel Congregation in West Chester, Pa. in 2004.
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