And that messiness, that delicious, complicated paradox, is exactly what grabs our attention in Jewish tradition too.
Take the tale we find in Sifrei Devarim 342. It focuses on the prophet Jeremiah, a towering figure, a voice of thunder and tears. But this passage shines a light on a fascinating duality within his prophetic pronouncements.
At first, Jeremiah speaks words of consolation regarding the Babylonians. We hear in Jeremiah 27:6, a powerful statement: "I have given all these lands into the hand of Nevuchadnezzar, king of Bavel (Babylon), My servant; even the beasts of the field have I given him to serve him." Nevuchadnezzar, the very king who would eventually lay siege to Jerusalem and destroy the First Temple, is here called God's servant! It’s a jarring image, isn't it? A temporary reprieve, a pause before the storm. This wasn’t necessarily an endorsement of the Babylonian’s actions, but an acknowledgment that, at that particular moment, they were instruments of God’s will. A hard pill to swallow, for sure, but that was Jeremiah’s message.
But the story doesn't end there. The passage continues, explaining that Jeremiah "reverted to words of retribution." Later in his book (Jeremiah 51:64), we find a starkly different prophecy: "And you shall say: 'Thus shall Bavel (Babylon) sink and it shall not rise because of the evil I am bringing upon her, and she shall grow faint.' Until here the words of Jeremiah."
Wow. From consolation to condemnation. From acknowledging Nevuchadnezzar as a tool of the Divine to predicting Babylon's utter destruction. What happened?
Perhaps it's not so much a reversal, but a shift in perspective. A recognition that even those who serve a purpose, even those who are instruments of divine will, are still accountable for their actions. Babylon's rise was ordained, maybe even necessary, but their cruelty and excess would ultimately lead to their downfall.
Or perhaps it's a reminder that prophecy itself isn't a static, unchanging thing. The prophets weren't simply fortune-tellers; they were interpreters of God's will in specific historical moments. As those moments shifted, so too did the message. As Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks would often point out, Judaism isn't about predicting the future, it's about influencing it.
This passage from Sifrei Devarim isn't just about Jeremiah or Babylon. It's about the complexities of power, the shifting sands of history, and the enduring tension between divine purpose and human responsibility. It reminds us that even the most righteous among us can hold seemingly contradictory truths within themselves, and that the story is rarely ever truly finished.