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.