In a recent book entitled YHWH Fights for Them!, Charlie Trimm analyzes the use of martial imagery to describe God in the first fifteen chapters of the book of Exodus. Peter Leithart writes in his review:

[Trimm] isolates divine-warrior passages partly by looking for military terminology; even when God is not identified as a “mighty man” (gibbor), he might be carrying on a war by “striking” the Egyptians. . . . God uses the weapons of nature to carry on his war against Pharaoh, and he looks at the “psychological” effects of the divine warrior, especially the panic he strikes in his enemies. . . .

Putting the divine-warrior motif in the context of the exodus narrative demonstrates that God’s is a just war. Trimm runs through the appearances of Egypt in Genesis, showing that it is depicted positively in the main. This [depiction] climaxes with the offer of the land of Goshen to Jacob and his family; Trimm sees in this a sign of God’s intention to bless nations through Israel.

[But] this generosity is in the background when Exodus begins, and we see Pharaoh and indeed all Egypt rejecting God and reneging on the gift of land.

If Iran succeeds in obtaining nuclear weapons, the war in Gaza, let alone the protests on college campuses, will seem like a minor complication. Jonathan Schachter fears that this danger could be much more imminent than decisionmakers in Jerusalem and Washington believe. In his view, Israel seems to be repeating the mistake that allowed it to be taken by surprise on Simchat Torah of 2023 and Yom Kippur of 1973: putting too much faith in an intelligence concept that could be wrong.

Israel and the United States apparently believe that despite Iran’s well-documented progress in developing capabilities necessary for producing and delivering nuclear weapons, as well as its extensive and ongoing record of violating its international nuclear obligations, there is no acute crisis because building a bomb would take time, would be observable, and could be stopped by force. Taken together, these assumptions and their moderating impact on Israeli and American policy form a new Iran concept reminiscent of its 1973 namesake and of the systemic failures that preceded the October 7 massacre.

Meanwhile, most of the restrictions put in place by the 2015 nuclear deal will expire by the end of next year, rendering the question of Iran’s adherence moot. And the forces that could be taking action aren’t:

The European Union regularly issues boilerplate press releases asserting its members’ “grave concern.” American decisionmakers and spokespeople have created the unmistakable impression that their reservations about the use of force are stronger than their commitment to use force to prevent an Iranian atomic bomb. At the same time, the U.S. refuses to enforce its own sanctions comprehensively: Iranian oil exports (especially to China) and foreign-currency reserves have ballooned since January 2021, when the Biden administration took office.

Israel’s response has also been sluggish and ambiguous. Despite its oft-stated policy of never allowing a nuclear Iran, Israel’s words and deeds have sent mixed messages to allies and adversaries—perhaps inadvertently reinforcing the prevailing sense in Washington and elsewhere that Iran’s nuclear efforts do not present an exigent crisis.