Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 6

Shalom, my friend! Welcome to our little corner of Jewish learning. I’m so glad you’re here. Think of me as your friendly guide, here to help you peek into some ancient wisdom and see how it might just sparkle in your own life today. No big fancy words, no pressure, just a warm welcome to explore.

Ever wonder how ancient texts, written thousands of years ago, might offer surprisingly fresh perspectives on some of life's trickiest questions? We often imagine "war" as a simple, brutal affair, a clear-cut good vs. evil. But what if even in the toughest, most challenging situations, there were profound ethical guidelines, a deep concern for peace, and even environmental protection? It might seem counter-intuitive, but Jewish wisdom, even when discussing topics like warfare, often shines a light on humanity, dignity, and making thoughtful choices.

Today, we're going to dive into a fascinating text that does just that. It's not about glorifying conflict, but about carefully considering how we act, even when things are incredibly difficult. We'll explore some ancient rules of engagement that prioritize peace, respect for other peoples, and even the natural world. So, whether you're navigating a tough conversation, making a big decision, or just curious about how a rich tradition approaches complex problems, there's a good chance you'll find something here that makes you think. Get ready to discover some surprisingly modern ideas hidden in very old words! Let's get started.

Context

To understand our text today, let's meet the "who, what, when, and where." Imagine a scholar, living many centuries ago, trying to make sense of all the different Jewish laws and teachings.

• Who: Our author is a brilliant scholar named Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, often called Maimonides or the Rambam (pronounced Rahm-bahm). He was a doctor, philosopher, and legal giant – a true Renaissance man, but way before the Renaissance! He's kind of like the ultimate "explainer" of Jewish law.
• When: The Rambam lived in the 12th century, from 1138 to 1204 CE. So, we're talking about almost 900 years ago! He wrote his big works during a time of great change and intellectual flourishing.
• Where: He was born in Spain, but due to political upheaval, he and his family traveled quite a bit, eventually settling in Egypt. There, he became the personal physician to the Sultan and a leader of the Jewish community. He wrote for Jewish communities all over the world, trying to make Jewish law accessible and understandable.
• What: The text we're looking at is from his monumental work called the Mishneh Torah (pronounced Mish-nay Toh-rah). Think of it as a comprehensive, beautifully organized code of Jewish law. Before the Mishneh Torah, Jewish law was scattered across many different books, often hard to navigate. The Rambam's goal was to create a clear, logical system that anyone could follow. It covers everything from prayer to business ethics, and yes, even rules of engagement in war – which is what we're looking at today. It's meant to be a practical guide, a roadmap for living a Jewish life according to the Mitzvot (a commandment, a good deed).

Text Snapshot

Our text comes from Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars, Chapter 6. It lays out some surprising conditions for engaging in conflict. Take a look:

"War... should not be waged against anyone until they are offered the opportunity of peace as Deuteronomy 20:10 states: 'When you approach a city to wage war against it, you should propose a peaceful settlement.'

If the enemy accepts the offer of peace and commits itself to the fulfillment of the seven mitzvot that were commanded to Noah's descendents, none of them should be killed. Rather, they should be subjugated as ibid.:11 states: 'They shall be your subjects and serve you.'

The subjugation they must accept consists of being on a lower level, scorned and humble. They must never raise their heads against Israel, but must remain subjugated under their rule. They may never be appointed over a Jew in any matter whatsoever.

The tribute they must accept consists of being prepared to support the king's service with their money and with their persons; for example, the building of walls, strengthening the fortresses, building the king's palace, and the like...

It is forbidden to lie when making such a covenant or to be untruthful to them after they have made peace and accepted the seven mitzvot."

You can find the full text and more context here: https://www.sefaria.org/Mishneh_Torah%2C_Kings_and_Wars_6

Close Reading

Wow, that's a lot to unpack! At first glance, some of these ideas might sound a bit harsh or even confusing. Remember, this text is rooted in ancient times and specific historical contexts. But even within those challenging circumstances, the Rambam, drawing on the Torah, reveals some truly profound ethical principles that resonate far beyond the battlefield. Let's dig into a few key insights.

Insight 1: Peace is Always the First Offer (And What That Means)

Imagine you're facing a difficult situation, maybe a disagreement at work, or a conflict with a neighbor. What's your go-to move? For many of us, it might be to prepare for a fight, to dig in our heels. But the Rambam, echoing the Torah, tells us something really counter-intuitive: even when approaching a city to wage war, the very first thing you must do is offer peace.

This isn't just a polite gesture; it's a mandatory first step. It's like saying, "Before we even think about conflict, let's explore every possible avenue for a peaceful resolution." This is true for what the Rambam calls a milchemet hareshut (an optional war). There's also a milchemet mitzvah (an obligatory war), which has slightly different rules, but even then, the principle of peace first often applies. The default Jewish approach, even when facing a potential enemy, leans heavily towards de-escalation.

Now, what does this "peace" entail? It's not just a handshake and a smile. The text outlines two main conditions:

• Subjugation (being lower in status, subject to rule): This means the people accepting peace would acknowledge a lower status and agree to be governed. The text says they must be "scorned and humble" and "never raise their heads against Israel." This sounds tough, right? From the perspective of the time, this ensured stability and prevented future uprisings. Steinsaltz's commentary clarifies that this means they would be "subject to Israel and lower than them in status." It's about establishing a clear hierarchy to maintain peace and order after a potential conflict. It's not about erasing their identity, but about accepting a specific political arrangement.
• Tribute (financial or labor support for the king): This means they would contribute financially or physically to the ruling kingdom. The examples given are building walls, fortresses, or the king's palace. Think of it like taxes or public service. Steinsaltz explains this simply: "The king can use them and their money for his needs as he wishes." This provided resources and helped integrate the new subjects into the economy of the ruling power, again, for stability.

But there's a third, crucial, and very Jewish component to this peace offer: The Seven Mitzvot (commandments) of Noah's Descendants. This is a huge concept! These are universal moral laws that Jewish tradition believes apply to all people, not just Jews. They are:

1. Do not worship idols: Believe in one God.
2. Do not curse God: Show respect for the Divine.
3. Do not murder: Value human life.
4. Do not commit adultery: Respect family and relationships.
5. Do not steal: Respect property.
6. Do not eat flesh torn from a living animal: Show respect for living creatures (and for not causing unnecessary suffering).
7. Establish courts of justice: Create a fair and just society. These are the foundational principles of a civilized society, according to Jewish thought. So, accepting peace means not just political and economic terms, but also agreeing to live by a basic moral code. This is key because it establishes a shared foundation for living together peacefully. The text is clear: if they don't accept both subjugation and tribute and the Seven Mitzvot, then the peace offer isn't accepted, and war proceeds. "Their offer should not be heeded. They must accept both," Steinsaltz adds, meaning that if conditions aren't met, "one battles them."

Now, what about those tricky exceptions?

• Ammon and Moav: The text says, "No offer of a peaceful settlement should be made to Ammon and Moav." This seems like a contradiction! But the Sages explain that while Israel doesn't proactively offer them peace, if Ammon and Moav sue for peace themselves, their offer can be accepted. This is a subtle but important distinction, rooted in historical context where these nations acted with specific hostility towards Israel in the past. It’s a reminder that ancient texts often have layers of specific historical and theological reasons for their rulings.
• The Seven Nations and Amalek: Here, the text gets even tougher: if these specific groups refuse peace, "not one soul of them may be left alive." Again, this is rooted in very specific historical circumstances described in the Torah – the Seven Nations of Canaan who occupied the land promised to Israel, and Amalek, who launched an unprovoked, cruel attack on the most vulnerable of the Israelites as they left Egypt. These are not general rules for all nations, but specific, divinely mandated exceptions for unique historical enemies. The lesson here is that even within a framework of general peace, there are particular historical grievances and threats that require unique, severe responses according to the Torah. Joshua, the leader after Moses, even sent three letters to the Canaanites, offering them chances to flee or make peace, proving that even these "exceptions" still had a pathway to avoid total destruction.

The core takeaway here is that Judaism places an incredibly high value on peace. Even in the context of war, the first, most fundamental step is to exhaust every possible avenue for a peaceful resolution, based on shared moral principles and a clear political understanding. It's a powerful reminder to always seek understanding and resolution before resorting to conflict, no matter how challenging the situation.

Insight 2: "Bal Tashchit" – The Deep Wisdom of Not Destroying

Let's shift gears to a truly beautiful and far-reaching Jewish value embedded in this text: bal tashchit (do not destroy). You might be surprised to find this principle tucked right into the rules of war!

The text explicitly states: "When a siege is placed around a city to conquer it, it should not be surrounded on all four sides, only on three. A place should be left for the inhabitants to flee and for all those who desire, to escape with their lives..." This is incredible! Even in the midst of a siege, the goal is not total annihilation or trapping people without escape. It's about giving an option, allowing for life to continue, even for those who choose not to fight. This shows a fundamental respect for life and agency, even for an enemy.

Then, immediately following this, we get to bal tashchit itself: "We should not cut down fruit trees outside a city nor prevent an irrigation ditch from bringing water to them so that they dry up, as Deuteronomy 20:19 states: 'Do not destroy its trees.' Anyone who cuts down such a tree should be lashed."

Think about that for a moment. In ancient warfare, destroying an enemy's food supply and resources was a common, brutal tactic. But the Torah, and the Rambam, explicitly forbid cutting down fruit trees. Why fruit trees specifically? Because they sustain life. They provide food, shade, and a future. Destroying them is a destructive act against life itself, against the ability of a land to sustain its people, both now and in the future. It's an act of wanton, unnecessary destruction.

The Rambam then expands this idea far beyond just war: "This does not apply only in a siege, but in all situations. Anyone who cuts down a fruit tree with a destructive intent, should be lashed." This is a foundational principle of Jewish environmental ethics. We are not owners of the world, but stewards. We have a responsibility to preserve and protect it, especially things that sustain life.

But bal tashchit goes even further! The Rambam states: "This prohibition does not apply to trees alone. Rather, anyone who breaks utensils, tears garments, destroys buildings, stops up a spring, or ruins food with a destructive intent transgresses the command 'Do not destroy.'" Wow! This isn't just about trees; it's about any act of wasteful destruction. Steinsaltz's commentary highlights this, noting that while the Torah specifically mentions trees for the punishment of lashing, the prohibition against bal tashchit applies to "destroying anything." The Sages extended the specific punishment for other destructive acts, showing how seriously they took this principle.

This teaches us a profound lesson: we have a responsibility to be mindful of resources, to avoid waste, and to respect the world around us. It's about appreciating the value in things, recognizing that everything has a purpose and that unnecessary destruction is wrong. This applies to our physical environment, the things we own, and even our time and talents. It's a call to conscious living, to being a careful and appreciative inhabitant of this world.

Insight 3: Dignity, Decency, and Holiness, Even in the Camp

Finally, let's look at some truly humanizing elements in a place you might least expect them: the rules for an army camp. Even in the grit and grime of military life, Jewish law emphasizes dignity, respect, and a surprising connection to holiness.

• Leaving an Escape Route: We mentioned this earlier, but it bears repeating. Surrounding a city on only three sides, leaving a way out, is a powerful statement. It's not just about military strategy; it’s about acknowledging the humanity of the "enemy." It offers a choice, a chance to escape, rather than forcing a no-win fight to the death. It's a testament to the idea that even in conflict, there is an ethical boundary to absolute annihilation.

• Burying the Dead Where They Fall: The text says, "A person killed in the war should be buried where he falls. He acquires that place..." This is a specific law related to a meit mitzvah (a deceased person with no one to bury them). The idea is that the dignity of the deceased is paramount. They shouldn't be left unburied. Even in the chaos of war, respect for the dead is a fundamental human and religious value. It signifies that every life, even one lost in battle, is sacred and deserves proper burial. It's a powerful reminder of the value of each individual.

• Hygiene and Holiness: This might seem like a strange leap, but the Rambam connects physical cleanliness directly to spiritual holiness in the army camp. "It is forbidden to defecate in an army camp or in an open field anywhere. Rather, it is a positive commandment to establish comfort facilities for the soldiers to defecate as Deuteronomy 23:13 commands: 'Designate a place outside the camp to use as a lavatory.'" And not just a lavatory, but a spade to dig and cover up waste! This is explicitly linked to the presence of God: "'God walks among your camp,... therefore, your camp shall be holy.'"

This is incredibly profound. It teaches us that Kedusha (holiness or sacredness) isn't just about grand temples or lofty prayers. It's about how we conduct our daily lives, even in the most mundane and challenging circumstances. Our physical environment, our personal hygiene, our respect for cleanliness – these are all connected to the idea that God's presence can be felt in our midst. If our camp, our home, our workplace, our community is to be a place where God's presence dwells, then it must be treated with respect, order, and cleanliness. It's a reminder that true holiness permeates every aspect of existence, even the seemingly unglamorous parts. It encourages us to create environments that reflect dignity and respect, both for ourselves and for the Divine presence we believe is with us.

These insights, drawn from ancient laws of warfare, offer a surprisingly rich tapestry of values: the paramount importance of peace, environmental stewardship, human dignity, and the pervasive nature of holiness. They challenge us to think deeply about our actions, even in the most difficult of times.

Apply It

Okay, so we've talked about ancient rules of war, peace offers, and not destroying fruit trees. How on earth does this apply to your life this week?

Let's focus on that wonderful principle of bal tashchit – "do not destroy." It’s about being mindful and responsible with the resources we have. We all live in a world where it's easy to be wasteful, whether it's food, clothes, energy, or even our words and time.

Here's a tiny, doable practice for this week, something that will take you less than 60 seconds a day, but can have a big impact:

The "Pause Before You Pitch" Practice:

This week, pick one area of your life where you notice a bit of waste. Maybe it's food scraps, maybe it's old clothes, maybe it's packaging. Before you automatically toss something into the trash or recycling, just pause for 5-10 seconds.

• Ask yourself: "Is there another life for this item?"
• Consider: Can it be reused? Could I fix it instead of replacing it? Could someone else use it? Is there a way to make it last longer? Could I repurpose this container?

For instance:

• Food: Before scraping leftovers into the bin, pause. Could they be a snack tomorrow? A base for soup? Can this peel be composted?
• Clothes: Before throwing out a sock with a small hole, pause. Can I mend it quickly? Could this old t-shirt become a cleaning rag?
• Packaging: Before crushing that box, pause. Could it be used for storage? For a kid's craft project?

This isn't about becoming a minimalist overnight or perfectly zero-waste (unless you want to!). It's about developing a habit of mindfulness. It's about recognizing the value in things, slowing down our consumption, and taking a small moment to consider our impact. It’s a way of honoring the principle of bal tashchit – not just with fruit trees, but with all the blessings in our lives.

This small pause helps you connect to a very ancient, very profound Jewish value. It helps you see yourself not just as a consumer, but as a steward of the world. And who knows, you might even discover a clever new use for something you would have otherwise discarded! Give it a try this week, and see what happens.

Chevruta Mini

In Jewish learning, we often study in pairs, called a chevruta (a study partner or pair). It’s a wonderful way to deepen understanding and share insights. So, grab a friend, a family member, or even just ponder these questions yourself:

1. The text insists on offering peace first, even when preparing for war. How does this idea of always seeking a peaceful resolution, even in a difficult or potentially confrontational situation, resonate with you? Where might you apply this "peace first" mindset in your own life this week, perhaps in a conversation, a disagreement, or a tough decision?
2. We talked about bal tashchit, the principle of "do not destroy," which applies not just to fruit trees but to all things. Thinking about this, what's one small, practical change you could make in your home or routine this week to be more mindful of not wasting resources (whether it's food, water, energy, or even your time)?

Takeaway

Remember this: Even in the toughest situations, Jewish wisdom calls us to prioritize peace, respect life, and care for our world, reflecting a deep commitment to human dignity and holiness.