Kings

For Shabbat and Rosh Hashanah

Rabbi Elie Kaunfer has written about the subject of divine kingship, a matter of considerable interest on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (Washington Post, 8/22/26).  Noting that this has been a year of crowds chanting “no kings” in American streets, we might examine the Jewish view of kings in general, and the view of God as King in particular. After all, during the High Holy Days, we acknowledge the kingship of God, including the famous prayer which begins “Avinu Malkeinu” — “Our Father, Our King.” 

To modern ears, the language of kings is threatening. This is not a modern phenomenon, since for more than 2,000 years, rabbinic interpreters felt a similar discomfort. In fact, the traditional rabbinic approach to God as King can be summed up simply: whatever you think a human king is, God is the opposite.

An old rabbinic tale suggests that before the world was created, God decided to make human beings, knowing full well that humanity would be an endless source of trouble. The Torah itself, acting as a kind of advisor, suggests that God can’t be a king in a vacuum, and God needs humans to rule. From the beginning, then, divine kingship is imagined as a two-way relationship.

This idea of a two-way relationship became central to Jewish tradition. A midrash about the creation of the prayer Avinu Malkeinu tells the story of concern during a drought. One rabbi, Eliezer, performed the entire formal prayer for rain. Nothing happened. Then a second famous sage, Rabbi Akiva, brought forward a much more daring plea: “Our Father, our King, we have no king but you; act for Your own sake, and have mercy on us.” The rain came.

Rabbi Akiva didn’t ask to be rescued for his own sake but reminded God that God, too, had something invested in the relationship. Akiva focused on two potent images: that of a father, whose bond with his child is unconditional, and that of a king, whose power is supreme. Put them together and you get the suggestion of something godlike: omnipotence attached to unconditional love.

We Americans are understandably wary of kings. On the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, it may seem strange to celebrate a king (even if it is God) during the most important Jewish holidays. But God’s kingship serves to highlight the insufficiency of any human king. God’s justice is a rebuke to every form of oppression. Well before crowds shouting “no kings” conflated kingship with tyranny, the rabbinic tradition proposed a radical idea: that the true king was the furthest thing from a tyrant. Rather than mistreating his people, he draws close to them. Instead of ignoring their distress, he looks on them with kindness and mercy.

That’s a strange kind of king. It might also be the only vision of power worthy of respect.

Strong and Courageous

 Nitzavim-Vayeilech

Deut. 29:9 -31:31

 

Précis: In Nitzavim Moses continues to address: You stand (nitzavim) this day before Adonai. Moses recounts the wonders Adonai had done. The Torah is an “open book” that is accessible to all. A blessing and a curse have been set before the People, and Moses urges them to choose the blessing, to choose life.

In Vayeilech, the Israelites are instructed to annihilate the seven Canaanite nations and take possession of the Promised Land. Moses transfers his mantle of leadership to Joshua and orders regular reading of the Law.

Deut. 29:9 -11 “You stand this day, all of you, before Adonai your God - your tribal heads, your elders, your officials, all the men of Israel; your children, your wives, even the stranger in your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer, to enter into the covenant of Adonai your God…”

                         Rabbi Sari Laufer questions why the Shabbat before Rosh Hashanah is not specially identified (10 Minutes of Torah, 9/23/23). After all, the Shabbat before Passover is called Shabbat HaGadol, the Great Sabbath; the Shabbat before Purim is known as Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat of Memory; the Shabbat before Tishah B'Av is called Shabbat Hazon, the Shabbat of Vision (named for the vision of destruction described in the haftarah). The Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is Shabbat Shuvah, the Shabbat of Return, with its special liturgy. But this Shabbat has no special name and nothing specifically hints at what is coming shortly.

But the Torah reading includes the statement “Atem nitzavim hayom kulchem, lifnei Adonai Elohecha” (“You stand today, all of you, before Adonai Your God”), and these are the same words we will hear on Yom Kippur, reminding us of our covenant with God. In effect, the phrase brackets the High Holy Days.  

The double parasha we read this week begins with “atem nitzavim”(you stand) and “vayeilech” (he went). Laufer notes that standing and going are opposite actions. The first is static, the other puts us in motion. In addition, four times in this week's parasha, we read Moses' command to Joshua as he transfers power: “hazak v'amatz,” (“be strong and courageous”).

As we approach the High Holy Days, we move from static to active, with the idea of being strong and courageous enough to carefully examine our faults and acknowledge them.