One major theme of Rosh Hashanah, often not properly appreciated, is the proclamation of God’s kingship over creation. But how can today’s Jews relate to this imagery, which came so naturally to our ancient ancestors and is so opposed to our democratic sensibilities? Richard Hidary examines this question, and provides some possible resolutions:

American suspicion of kings was an outgrowth of the European Enlightenment, which was itself influenced by the rabbis’ wariness about human kingship, [and the Hebrew Bible’s]. At the same time, the rabbis made use of the biblical imagery extolling God as king to compose the malkhiyot, “Kingship” prayer recited on Rosh Hashanah. How do we make sense of this tension?

Since God and only God is King, no other being can be a king. Or, in Moshe Halbertal’s terminology, God is King; therefore, the king is not God. The acknowledgement of God’s kingship does not connote a desire for monarchy, rather it is a repudiation of any human claiming that right. In fact, John Milton and Thomas Paine idealize the Kingdom of God as strongly as they repudiate any kingdom of man.

Out of possible discomfort with kingship, even for God, the [ancient commentary on Exodus], M’khilta d’Rabbi Yishmael, imagines that God reigns only with national consent granted at Sinai.

Examining the effects of Iran’s decision to launch nearly 200 ballistic missiles at Israel on October 1, Benny Morris takes stock of the Jewish state’s strategic situation:

The massive Iranian attack has turned what began as a local war in and around the Gaza Strip and then expanded into a Hamas–Hizballah–Houthi–Israeli war [into] a regional war with wide and possibly calamitous international repercussions.

Before the Iranians launched their attack, Washington warned Tehran to desist (“don’t,” in President Biden’s phrase), and Israel itself had reportedly cautioned the Iranians secretly that such an attack would trigger a devastating Israeli counterstrike. But a much-humiliated Iran went ahead, nonetheless.

For Israel, the way forward seems to lie in an expansion of the war—in the north or south or both—until the country attains some sort of victory, or a diplomatic settlement is reached. A “victory” would mean forcing Hizballah to cease fire in exchange, say, for a cessation of the IDF bombing campaign and withdrawal to the international border, or forcing Iran, after suffering real pain from IDF attacks, to cease its attacks and rein in its proxies: Hizballah, Hamas, and the Houthis.

At the same time, writes Morris, a victory along such lines would still have its limits:

An IDF withdrawal from southern Lebanon and a cessation of Israeli air-force bombing would result in Hizballah’s resurgence and its re-investment of southern Lebanon down to the border. Neither the Americans nor the French nor the UN nor the Lebanese army—many of whose troops are Shiites who support Hizballah—would fight them.