The verse in Deuteronomy (20:10) sets the stage: "When you approach a city to wage war against it, you shall call to it for peace." Seems counterintuitive, right? But in Devarim Rabbah, this verse isn't just about warfare. It’s a springboard for exploring the profound importance of shalom, peace.
The text tells us that these laws were instituted "in order to adhere to the ways of peace." And it's not just about avoiding conflict between people. The rabbis went much, much further.
Consider this: a priest always reads from the Torah first, followed by a Levite, and then an Israelite. It might seem like a minor detail, but the Sages saw it as a testament to the "great power of peace" – a recognition of hierarchy that prevents discord.
But here’s where it gets truly mind-blowing. Rabbi Yoḥanan makes an incredible observation about the sun and the moon. He says that the sun never sees the dark part of the moon's crescent. Always the luminous part faces the sun. Why? "It is in order to adhere to the ways of peace," he says, "It is to prevent the moon from being embarrassed, as it were, by the sun."
Think about that for a moment. The cosmos itself, according to this understanding, is structured to prevent even celestial bodies from feeling shame or envy. As it says in Job (25:2), "Dominion and fear are with Him; He makes peace in His heights." God, in this view, is the ultimate peacemaker, arranging even the heavens to ensure harmony.
Rabbi Levi adds to this cosmic picture. He says that the constellations only see the one following it, not the one that precedes it. It's like climbing down a ladder and looking behind you. This way, each constellation can feel like it's in the lead, preventing rivalry. Again, "He makes peace in His heights."
Then Reish Lakish offers a powerful image: Mikhael, the archangel, is made of snow, and Gabriel is made of fire, yet they stand side-by-side without harming each other. Think about the implications! Even beings of fundamentally opposing natures can coexist peacefully.
Bar Kappara takes it a step further: if even the supernal beings – who are free from jealousy, hatred, and rivalry – still require peace, how much more so do we earthly beings, who are so often consumed by those very emotions?
The Rabbis then drive the point home: even in war, that most violent of human endeavors, we are commanded to begin with peace. As Deuteronomy says, “When you approach a city…."
So, what does it all mean? Maybe it's that peace isn't just the absence of conflict. It's an active, intentional creation. It's about building systems, structures, and even ways of thinking that promote harmony and prevent discord. It's about recognizing the inherent dignity of every being, from the moon in the sky to the person standing next to us. And maybe, just maybe, if we can learn to make peace in our own small corners of the world, we can help bring a little more shalom to the entire cosmos.