Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 6

Hook

Let's be honest, for many of us, the phrase "ancient holy texts" conjures a very specific image. Maybe it's dusty tomes, inscrutable language, or a long-ago classroom where you felt like you were perpetually a step behind. And when you hear "Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars, Chapter 6," your brain might immediately jump to: "Oh no. More rules about war. How is this possibly relevant to my latte-fueled, spreadsheet-dominated, carpool-juggling life?"

You weren't wrong to feel that initial flicker of disconnect. It's easy to bounce off texts that seem steeped in a world so radically different from our own, especially when they grapple with topics as thorny as ancient warfare. The prevailing stale take is often: "These texts are either irrelevant, morally outdated, or just plain hard." They can feel like a rigid, rule-heavy blueprint for a past we don't understand, devoid of the empathy and nuance we crave in our complex adult lives.

But what if we told you that within Maimonides' meticulous code of ancient warfare, we can unearth surprising lessons in proactive peacemaking, radical environmentalism, strategic empathy, and even self-care? What if this chapter, far from being a relic, offers a profound framework for navigating conflict, stewarding resources, and cultivating personal integrity in your very modern world?

You weren't wrong to think it might be just about swords and sieges. But let's try again, together. Let's peel back the layers and discover how Maimonides, writing centuries ago, provides an unexpectedly relevant guide for the wars — big and small, external and internal — that we all face today. Prepare to be re-enchanted by the unexpected wisdom nestled within the laws of kings and conflicts.

Context

Before we dive into the text itself, let's demystify a few key concepts that often trip up the modern reader and can make these ancient legal discussions feel impenetrable. Think of these as your decoder rings for understanding Maimonides' world.

The Two Types of War

Maimonides, following earlier Jewish legal tradition, distinguishes between two primary categories of war:

• Milchemet Mitzvah (Obligatory War): This refers to wars commanded by God, such as the initial conquest of the Land of Israel from its original inhabitants (the Seven Nations), or the ongoing command to eradicate Amalek. These are considered divinely mandated and have specific, often harsher, rules. Our text touches on these, especially regarding the exceptions where peace isn't offered.
• Milchemet Hareshut (Optional War): This is a discretionary war, waged by a king for expansion, to increase Israel's borders, or to assert its influence over neighboring nations. Crucially, the default position of our chapter, and Jewish law generally, is that no war should be waged against any nation (other than the specific exceptions of the Seven Nations and Amalek) until an offer of peace has been extended. This is a foundational ethical principle that sets a surprisingly high bar for engagement. Steinsaltz's commentary (6:1:1) points us to Chapter 5 for a fuller definition, but for our purposes, understanding this distinction is key: Maimonides isn't just talking about any old fight; he's setting parameters for when and how a nation, under specific circumstances, can engage in armed conflict.

The Seven Noahide Laws

When Maimonides speaks of an enemy accepting "the seven mitzvot that were commanded to Noah's descendants," he's referring to a set of universal ethical principles that, in Jewish tradition, apply to all humanity. These aren't just for Jews; they're considered the moral baseline for all people. They are:

• Prohibition of Idolatry: Do not worship false gods.
• Prohibition of Blasphemy: Do not curse God.
• Prohibition of Murder: Do not kill unjustly.
• Prohibition of Theft: Do not steal.
• Prohibition of Sexual Immorality: Do not engage in certain forbidden sexual acts.
• Prohibition of Eating a Limb from a Living Animal: Respect for living creatures.
• Establishment of Courts of Justice: Create a just legal system.

These laws represent a foundational covenant with all of humanity after the flood, a minimal standard of civilized behavior. For Maimonides, accepting these laws is a non-negotiable component of any peaceful settlement with a non-Jewish nation. It's not about converting them to Judaism, but about ensuring a shared moral operating system. Steinsaltz (6:1:2) confirms these are "the commandments that gentiles are obligated by."

Demystifying "Subjugation"

This is often the rule-heavy misconception that makes modern readers recoil. The text states that if an enemy accepts peace, "they should be subjugated... They shall be your subjects and serve you." It goes on to describe them as "on a lower level, scorned and humble," never raising their heads against Israel, and unable to be appointed over a Jew. This sounds, frankly, awful. It conjures images of oppression and inequality that clash with our modern values of human rights and self-determination.

However, to truly understand this, we need to contextualize it within the realities of ancient warfare and geopolitics. In the ancient world, conquest often meant absolute annihilation, enslavement, or forced assimilation. Maimonides' framework, though unequal, presents a structured alternative: a path to survival and coexistence without total destruction.

• A "Merciful" Alternative: While the terms are certainly harsh by contemporary standards, "subjugation" was presented as a lesser evil than total eradication. It was a means of integrating disparate peoples into a larger political order without erasing their existence. The goal was to neutralize a threat and establish Israel's sovereignty, not necessarily to inflict daily, gratuitous cruelty. Steinsaltz (6:1:4) clarifies this as "Subjugated to Israel and inferior in status," confirming the hierarchy.
• Economic and Service-Based: The "tribute" involves supporting the king with "money and with their persons; for example, the building of walls, strengthening the fortresses, building the king's palace." Steinsaltz (6:1:5) emphasizes, "The king can use them and their money for his needs as he wishes." This wasn't chattel slavery as we might envision it, but a form of conscripted labor and taxation, typical of ancient empires. It's a pragmatic integration into the conquering nation's economy and infrastructure.
• The Power of the Oath: Crucially, the text emphasizes, "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." Even within this power imbalance, the integrity of the agreement is paramount. This isn't just about winning; it's about establishing a binding, albeit unequal, peace.

So, while "subjugation" is a challenging concept for us today, it represents a highly regulated, specific, and limited form of conquest. It's a legal framework designed to minimize bloodshed and offer an option for survival in a brutal world, rather than a carte blanche for exploitation. It's less about the inherent "evil" of the subjugated people and more about the geopolitical realities and power dynamics of the time, filtered through a legal system that prioritized peace and the survival of the Jewish nation.

Text Snapshot

"War, neither a milchemet hareshut or a milchemet mitzvah, 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.'

...

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."

New Angle

Alright, take a deep breath. We've just navigated some heavy historical and legal terrain. It's easy to look at terms like "subjugation" and "killing adult males" and shut down, feeling that these ancient texts are irreconcilably distant from our contemporary ethical compass. And, frankly, that's a valid knee-jerk reaction. But Maimonides, in his relentless pursuit of codifying all Jewish law, often forces us to confront difficult realities and, in doing so, reveals surprisingly profound and nuanced ethical frameworks.

Let's lean into the re-enchanter's promise: "You weren't wrong – let's try again." What if the seemingly harsh dictates of ancient warfare, when viewed through a modern lens, offer potent insights into our own conflicts, choices, and responsibilities today?

Insight 1: The Art of the Proactive Peace Offering – Even in Unwinnable Battles

Maimonides begins this entire chapter on "Kings and Wars" not with a battle cry, but with a peace offering. "War... should not be waged against anyone until they are offered the opportunity of peace." This isn't a mere formality; it's a foundational principle, echoing Deuteronomy. Even when war seems inevitable, even when the terms of peace might seem harsh or unequal, the offer must be made. This is the radical starting point.

### The Mandate for Dialogue: Beyond Assumptions

Think about your own life. How often do we jump to "war" — that is, to conflict, avoidance, resentment, or resignation — without first clearly articulating our "peace offering"?

• At work: You have a difficult colleague. There's a project that's stalled due to an interpersonal clash. Your immediate reaction might be to complain, to subtly sabotage, or to just work around them, internally declaring a "cold war." But Maimonides demands a proactive step: "When you approach a city to wage war against it, you should propose a peaceful settlement." What does that look like in the office? It's not about giving in, but about initiating dialogue. "Hey, I'm feeling some tension around [project X]. My ideal outcome here is Y. What are your thoughts on getting there?" It's about laying out your terms for engagement, even if they're not perfect, before you let the conflict fester or escalate. This matters because unspoken assumptions and unaddressed tensions are the breeding ground for genuine "wars" in our professional lives, leading to lost productivity, strained relationships, and a toxic work environment.
• In family dynamics: The long-standing sibling rivalry, the unresolved argument with a partner, the unspoken disappointment with a child. We often carry these conflicts internally, allowing them to simmer. We might assume the other person won't accept peace, or that the terms are too complicated. But Maimonides forces us to consider: have we actually made an explicit, genuine offer? Have we articulated what "peace" would look like, even if it involves compromise or accepting a certain "subjugation" (i.e., less than our ideal outcome)? This isn't about blaming, but about agency. By defining your terms for peace, you shift from being a reactive participant in a conflict to a proactive architect of potential resolution.
• The internal battle: How many "wars" do we wage against ourselves? The war against perfectionism, against procrastination, against self-criticism. We often fight these battles with more self-flagellation, more pressure, more demands. What would a "peace offering" to yourself look like? Perhaps it's accepting your current limitations ("subjugation" to reality), dedicating specific resources (time, energy – "tribute") to self-care, or agreeing to a truce on unrealistic expectations. The act of articulating these terms, even to yourself, can be profoundly liberating.

### Reframing Subjugation and Tribute: The Terms of Peace

The concepts of "subjugation" and "tribute" are undeniably jarring in a modern context. But if we reframe them conceptually, they offer insights into the necessary compromises and investments required for any lasting peace.

• Subjugation as Acceptance of Conditions: In our personal and professional lives, "subjugation" isn't about literal servitude. It's about accepting conditions, boundaries, or a hierarchy that might not be our first choice, but which are part of a larger agreement for peace and stability.
  • At work, it might mean accepting a role that isn't always "the boss," or agreeing to a company policy you don't love, because you believe in the overall mission. You "subjugate" your personal preference to the collective good.
  • In a relationship, it might mean accepting that your partner has certain needs or habits that aren't ideal for you, but you choose to "subjugate" your desire for perfect alignment for the sake of the relationship's peace and harmony.
  • This is not about being a doormat; it's about conscious choice to accept certain conditions as part of a negotiated peace, rather than constantly fighting against them. Steinsaltz (6:1:4) notes that subjugation means being "inferior in status" – acknowledging that peace sometimes means accepting a non-equal footing, not as a moral judgment, but as a pragmatic reality of difference.
• Tribute as Investment and Commitment: "Tribute" – supporting the king with "money and with their persons" – can be understood as the necessary investment of resources (time, effort, emotional energy, actual finances) to maintain the peace.
  • At home, the "tribute" you pay to family peace might be dedicating time to chores you dislike, or financially supporting a shared goal.
  • At work, it's the effort you put into collaborative projects, the willingness to share resources, or the commitment to training and development that benefits the whole team. Steinsaltz (6:1:5) emphasizes that the king "can use them and their money for his needs as he wishes," highlighting that this tribute is a significant, tangible commitment. This matters because peace isn't free; it requires ongoing investment. If we're not willing to pay the "tribute," our "peace offering" is hollow.

### The Unbreakable Oath: Integrity as the Bedrock of Peace

Perhaps one of the most powerful and counter-intuitive lessons comes when Maimonides states: "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." Even in the context of ancient warfare, even with an enemy who will be "subjugated," integrity is paramount.

• The story of the Gibeonites is a vivid example. They tricked Joshua into making an oath of peace. The Israelite princes were furious ("they desired to slay the Gibeonites by the sword"), not because they were tricked into peace, but because the Gibeonites were one of the Seven Nations who were not to be offered peace or made covenants with (Deuteronomy 7:2). Yet, because an oath had been given, even under false pretenses, it had to be upheld "were it not for the dishonor to God's name which would have been caused." The sacredness of the oath, the value of integrity, superseded the desire for vengeance and even the letter of the law regarding the Seven Nations.
• This matters because trust is the absolute bedrock of any lasting peace, whether it's between nations, colleagues, or family members. If you cannot trust the terms of a settlement, or the honesty of the person making the offer, then "peace" is a fragile illusion. Maimonides is teaching us that even when you hold the upper hand, even when the relationship is unequal, your word must be your bond. This is a profound ethical statement: integrity isn't just for when it's convenient; it's especially critical when it's challenging, precisely because it builds the foundation for any future stability.

Insight 2: Strategic Restraint & Holistic Stewardship – Beyond the Battlefield

Here's where Maimonides truly surprises. In the midst of discussing the grim realities of war, he introduces a series of rules that seem utterly counter-intuitive to military strategy. Why would a nation at war impose ethical limits on its own destructive power? This isn't just about ancient custom; it's a profound ethical framework for how we engage with resources, the environment, and even our own internal "battles."

### The Siege and the Escape Route: Leaving Room for Dignity

"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 radical. Even in war, even against an enemy, Maimonides (following tradition) mandates leaving an escape route. Why? Because absolute desperation often leads to fiercer, more destructive resistance. It acknowledges a fundamental aspect of human dignity: the need for agency, for a path out, even when facing defeat. It's a strategic act of empathy.
• In your life: How often do we "siege" others (or ourselves) by creating no-win situations?
  • At work, it might be the impossible deadline, the project with no resources, or the negotiation where you corner the other party, leaving them no room to save face. The result? Resentment, burnout, or a destructive last-ditch effort.
  • In family arguments, do we back our loved ones into a corner, demanding total surrender, or do we leave them an "escape route" – a way to concede without losing all dignity, a path to de-escalate without total defeat?
• This matters because it teaches us that even in conflict, strategic restraint and an acknowledgment of the other's humanity (or our own limits) can lead to a more constructive, less destructive outcome. It's about preventing total desperation, which often leads to greater, more chaotic destruction.

### Baal Tashchit (Do Not Destroy): Ancient Environmentalism and Anti-Waste

"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."

• This is perhaps the most famous and striking example of ethical restraint in wartime. Even in the heat of battle, you do not destroy the future capacity of the land. You don't engage in scorched-earth tactics. Fruit trees, symbolizing sustained life and future sustenance, are off-limits.
• Beyond Trees: Maimonides expands this concept far beyond the battlefield. "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." And then, even more broadly: "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'." Steinsaltz (6:10:1, 6:10:2) clarifies that while the Torah specifies lashes only for trees, the principle of Baal Tashchit (not destroying) applies to everything when done with "destructive intent," incurring rabbinic stripes for rebellious conduct.
• In your life: This isn't just about cutting down a tree; it's a profound ethic of stewardship and anti-waste that permeates all aspects of life.
  • Environmental Stewardship: This is ancient environmentalism in action. It challenges our modern throwaway culture. What are we "destroying" with destructive intent – or even just thoughtless neglect – in our daily lives? Our planet's resources, our local green spaces, our energy?
  • Resource Management: It's about respecting all resources, not just the "natural" ones.
    • At work, it's the destructive meeting that achieves nothing, the wasteful use of company funds, the intentional sabotage of a colleague's idea, the burnout caused by poor planning. Are we "cutting down" human capital with destructive intent?
    • At home, it's the clothing we discard before it's worn out, the food we let spoil, the appliances we replace instead of repair. It challenges us to pause and consider our consumption and disposal habits.
  • Mental and Emotional Resources: This extends to our internal landscape. Are we "destroying" our own peace of mind with endless worry, or our creative potential with destructive self-talk? Are we "stopping up a spring" of joy or inspiration with negativity? The nuance of "destructive intent" vs. pragmatic need (cutting a tree if it causes damage or is no longer productive) is key: it's not absolute preservation at all costs, but mindful, non-destructive management. This matters because it pushes us beyond immediate gratification or conflict, towards a legacy mindset, recognizing the inherent value and potential in all things, and our responsibility as stewards.

### Holiness in the Camp: Self-Care and Respect for the Mundane

Finally, Maimonides concludes this chapter with seemingly mundane rules about army camp hygiene: "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... Similarly, it is a positive commandment for every single soldier to have a spike hanging together with his weapons... he should dig with it, relieve himself, and cover his excrement... 'God walks among your camp,... therefore, your camp shall be holy'."

• This is perhaps the most unexpected and deeply spiritual lesson. Even in the dirt and grime of a military camp, even in the most basic bodily functions, there is a command for cleanliness and dignity, because "God walks among your camp." The mundane, the messy, the physical — all are infused with potential holiness.
• In your life:
  • Physical and Mental Hygiene: This isn't just about literal sanitation (though that's important!). It's about respecting the spaces we inhabit and the bodies we live in. It's about clearing out the "excrement" – whether it's literal mess in our homes, or toxic thoughts in our minds. The "spike among your weapons" is a personal tool for immediate clean-up, a reminder that personal responsibility for our environment and well-being is paramount.
  • Holiness in the Mundane: This matters because it elevates self-care and respect for our physical realities into a spiritual act. Our bodies, our homes, our workspaces are "camps" where the Divine can manifest. Neglecting them, letting them become foul, diminishes that potential. It challenges us to find holiness not just in grand rituals, but in the everyday acts of tidiness, self-respect, and mindful living. It connects our external actions to our internal state, reminding us that order and respect in our physical world contribute to our spiritual and mental well-being.

By re-examining these laws, we move beyond a stale take of ancient rules and discover a vibrant tapestry of ethical directives. Maimonides, the great codifier, paradoxically invites us to think expansively about peace, stewardship, and personal integrity in every "war" we face.

Low-Lift Ritual

The "Anti-Destruction Scan"

This week, let's tap into Maimonides' profound principle of Baal Tashchit ("Do Not Destroy") and apply it to our everyday lives. It's a simple, two-minute practice designed to cultivate mindfulness around our resources and curb destructive intent, whether conscious or unconscious.

Here's how to do it:

1. Choose Your Moment: Once a day, pick a consistent time or trigger. Maybe it's right after dinner when you're clearing the table, or before you close your laptop for the night, or even just as you transition from one task to another.

2. The Two-Minute Scan: For a dedicated 120 seconds, perform a quick "Baal Tashchit Scan" on your immediate environment or your internal landscape.

   • External Scan: Look around your desk, your kitchen counter, your living room, or even just your digital space (browser tabs, email inbox).
   • Internal Scan: Briefly check in with your mental chatter, your energy levels, or any lingering emotional residue from the day.

3. Identify "Destruction": Ask yourself: "What is one 'resource' here that I am about to 'destroy' or waste, either physically or mentally, out of habit, laziness, or lack of awareness?"

   • Examples of External "Destruction":
     • A half-eaten snack that will soon go bad.
     • An open browser tab you no longer need, draining your mental focus.
     • A piece of paper you're about to toss without checking if it could be recycled or reused.
     • A tool left out that could be put away, extending its life and tidying your space.
     • Food scraps that could be composted.
   • Examples of Internal "Destruction":
     • An unkind thought about yourself or someone else that you're about to voice or dwell on, leading to mental clutter.
     • Precious time you're about to spend mindlessly scrolling when you could be resting or engaging more purposefully.
     • Lingering resentment that's "stopping up a spring" of your own joy.

4. Choose the Non-Destructive Path: Instead of letting the "destruction" occur, ask: "Can this be salvaged? Repaired? Put away thoughtfully? Reused? Reframed? Can I redirect this energy?"

   • For the snack: Can I save it for later?
   • For the tab: Can I close it now? Bookmark it if truly needed?
   • For the paper: Into the recycling bin it goes.
   • For the unkind thought: Can I reframe it? Acknowledge it and let it pass without acting on it?
   • For the mindless scrolling: Can I choose a more restorative activity for these two minutes?

Why this matters: This ritual is not about becoming a rigid perfectionist. It's about cultivating awareness. Maimonides' Baal Tashchit isn't just a rule; it's a profound philosophy of respect for the inherent value in all things, and a challenge to our often thoughtless consumption. By consciously identifying moments of "destruction" – whether physical waste or mental drain – we begin to shift from passive participation in our habits to active stewardship of our environment, our belongings, and our inner world.

The "spike among your weapons" in the army camp, for digging and covering excrement, is a powerful metaphor here. It's about having a personal, immediate tool for clean-up and respectful management of the messy realities of life. This ritual is your mental "spike" – a simple, always-available tool to prevent waste and foster a sense of order and holiness in your immediate "camp," because, as the text reminds us, "God walks among your camp,... therefore, your camp shall be holy." It empowers you to make small, conscious choices that accumulate into a larger practice of mindful living and respect for all that you have been given.

Chevruta Mini

To deepen your reflection on these ideas, consider discussing these questions with a friend, partner, or even just journaling your thoughts.

1. Maimonides' Mishneh Torah begins the laws of war with a mandate to offer peace first, even with terms like "subjugation" and "tribute." Where in your life (work, family, personal goals) do you tend to jump to "war" (conflict, avoidance, resignation, or internal struggle) without first clearly articulating your ideal "peace offering" and its necessary conditions or compromises?
2. The concept of Baal Tashchit (do not destroy) extends beyond fruit trees to utensils, buildings, and food, emphasizing "destructive intent." What is one "resource" in your life (e.g., your time, energy, a specific relationship, a material possession you own, your mental space) that you might be "destroying" or wasting out of habit or lack of awareness, and what tiny shift could you make this week to honor its value and prevent its destruction?

Takeaway

You came here perhaps expecting a dry, rigid set of rules about ancient warfare, ready to bounce off a text that felt alien and irrelevant. And you weren't wrong to approach it with that initial skepticism. But by leaning into a fresh perspective, we've uncovered something far richer and surprisingly resonant.

Maimonides' Mishneh Torah, in this chapter on "Kings and Wars," is not just a historical relic. It's a profound ethical manual for navigating conflict and living a life of intentionality. We've seen that:

• Peace is the Default: The mandate to offer peace first, even with difficult terms, challenges us to be proactive architects of resolution in all our relationships and internal struggles, rather than reactive participants in conflict.
• Integrity is Paramount: The unbreakable nature of an oath, even under duress, reminds us that trust and honesty are the non-negotiable bedrock for any lasting peace, personal or collective.
• Strategic Restraint is Wisdom: Leaving an "escape route" in a siege, and the radical command of Baal Tashchit (do not destroy), teaches us the deep wisdom of strategic empathy, environmental stewardship, and anti-waste. It urges us to consider the long-term impact of our actions and to respect all resources – material, environmental, and human – preventing destructive intent in our daily choices.
• Holiness is in the Mundane: The seemingly mundane rules about hygiene in the army camp reveal that even the most basic physical realities are infused with potential holiness, encouraging us to cultivate self-care and respect for our bodies and environments.

This isn't about guilt or shame for past bounces. It's about rediscovering that ancient texts, even those on the most challenging topics, hold surprising wisdom for our complex adult lives. You weren't wrong to find them challenging. But now, with a fresh lens, perhaps you've found a new kind of peace, and a new kind of power, in understanding them – a re-enchantment that echoes through the ages into your very own camp.