Can we love the divine humanity in our enemies? This question emerges from a profound dialogue in the Midrash between two complementary principles. Rabbi Akiva teaches that loving your neighbor as yourself is the Torah’s key principle, while Ben Azzai points to the universal truth that all humans are created in God’s image.
These principles, rather than opposing each other, form the essential framework of Jewish ethics – one anchoring us in the immediate community, the other extending our moral vision to all humanity. While Rabbi Akiva’s teaching often echoes through Jewish discourse, Ben Azzai’s universal vision deserves equal consideration, particularly in times of conflict.
Like many, I struggle to find the point of balance between these ostensibly competing principles. At what point does over-emphasis on tribal loyalty lead to callousness towards humanity, and at what point does the appreciation of the divine image in every individual blind us to the evil and the mortal danger they may represent to us?
Holding two truths simultaneously is a challenge, intellectually and emotionally, and I find myself constantly struggling to return to the point of equilibrium between them.
Israel has been in the middle of a ferocious war for the last 14 months. Our hearts have been broken by the tragedies we witness through the media and know intimately through our social and family networks. This immediate perspective, reflecting Rabbi Akiva’s emphasis on proximate relationships, forms our foundation.
Given the depth of our national trauma post-October 7, it is no surprise that we run the risk of callousness towards any humanity associated with the source of that trauma.
However, Ben Azzai’s principle challenges us to expand our moral vision beyond these boundaries.
Jewish tradition teaches that when the angels celebrated the drowning of the Egyptians, God rebuked them with the words, “My creatures are drowning, and you sing praises?” Even in the moment of our greatest national salvation, we’re taught to temper triumph with recognition of human loss. This ancient wisdom particularly resonates as we grapple with the current conflict’s complexities.
In more modern times, we can look to former chief Rabbis Yitzhak Herzog and Ben-Zion Meir Uziel. During the Arab riots in 1939, they issued a clear statement: “God forbid that any person from Israel should even think unholy thoughts of revenge without justice and of spilling innocent blood in order to take revenge for members of their nation and religion who spilled innocent Jewish blood.”
THE ISRAELI press’s focus on domestic suffering, while natural, raises important ethical questions. Recently, during an exchange on Israel’s most-watched channel, former government spokesperson and Israel’s fiercest media warrior in the first months of the war, Eylon Levy, emphasized that journalists must report facts regardless of their difficulty, noting that some government ministers’ extreme rhetoric about Gaza’s civilians has undermined Israel’s position.
This was said as a response to a monologue berating the Haaretz newspaper. This highlights a crucial point: Avoiding uncomfortable truths serves neither our moral standing nor our practical interests.
While this might appear as merely a political or public relations challenge, it fundamentally represents a moral and religious imperative. We have an unquestionable obligation to defend ourselves against mortal enemies – Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, and their Iranian sponsors. Yet war’s ugly reality, particularly when fighting terror groups embedded within civilian populations, demands we maintain our ethical consciousness.
Understanding our moral obligations doesn’t deny war’s complexities; it protects both our soldiers and our society’s soul from the callousness that can emerge when we deny our enemies’ humanity.
When we lose sight of the universal humanity that Ben Azzai speaks of, we risk more than just our moral standing – we risk our Jewish essence. The Torah’s repeated emphasis on caring for the stranger stems from our own experience of oppression.
This dual consciousness – being both a sovereign nation that must defend itself and a people commanded to see the divine spark in all humanity – is perhaps our greatest challenge and opportunity. If we claim the IDF is the most moral army in the world, we must ensure this remains true through careful scrutiny rather than blind assertion.
This isn’t about political correctness or appeasing international opinion. It’s about maintaining our spiritual and ethical integrity even in times of justified warfare. We can simultaneously hold the truths that Hamas must be defeated decisively and that every civilian death in Gaza is a tragedy that diminishes the divine image in the world.
The IDF’s careful targeting procedures and warning systems demonstrate this balance is possible, even if imperfect. This also means rejecting rhetoric calling for the complete destruction of Gaza’s population – not because of international law, but because it contradicts our highest Jewish ideals.
Maintaining this ethical tension
Looking ahead, Israel’s security and Jewish values require us to maintain this ethical tension. We must be strong enough to defend ourselves unequivocally while remaining sensitive enough to acknowledge and mourn all innocent suffering.
This is how we honor both Rabbi Akiva’s emphasis on loving our neighbor and Ben Azzai’s vision of universal human dignity – not as competing principles but as complementary truths that together form the foundation of Jewish ethics.
The writer, a founding partner of Goldrock Capital, is the founder of The Institute for Jewish and Zionist Research. He is a former chairman of Gesher, World Bnei Akiva, and the Coalition for Haredi Employment.