The Problem With Pouring Out Wrath

Jews often find it very easy to condemn their own tradition for things that upset them or disturbs their universalist sensibilities. The only problem with those condemnations is that they often stem from a lack of knowledge, a lack of depth of understanding, or an inability to contextualize what they see within the vast whole of Judaism.


This is often the case during Pesach, when we come to the following passage in the Hagaddah:

שׁפך חמתך אל־הגוים אשר לא ידעוך ועל־ממלכות אשר בשמך לא קראו 

כי אכל את־יעקב ואת־נוהו השמו 

שפך־עליהם זעמך וחרון אפך ישיגם 

תרדף באף ותשמידם מתחת שמי ה

Pour out Your wrath upon those nations that do not know You,
and upon those kingdoms that do not call out in Your name.
For they have devoured Jacob and they have destroyed his habitations. (Ps 79:6-7)
Pour out Your anger upon them, and let your fury overtake them. (Ps 69:25)
Pursue them with fury and destroy them from under Hashem’s heavens. (La 3:66)

Superficially, these verses are disturbing. At best, they are explained as late inclusions to the Haggadah, dating back to the Crusades starting in the 11th Century, when many Jewish communities across Europe were destroyed and Jews murdered in the campaign to bring the Cross back to Jerusalem, then in the hands of the Moslems. But are these words reasonable in today’s world?

Often one hears a call to remove this “offensive liturgy” from the Hagaddah, as can be seen in a recent article that appeared in the Huffington Post ( http://tinyurl.com/ylhstsb ). That reference to “offensive liturgy” recalls the flap with the Vatican just two years ago, when the pope allowed the recitation of the Latin Tridentine Mass on Good Friday, a liturgy that contained some passages that were offensive to Jews (see my post, http://tinyurl.com/yau724h ). But, the idea that there is a central authority that can control what Jews recite as part of any liturgy is thoroughly ludicrous. We do not have anything analogous to the Vatican that can control what may be legitimately recited and what can be excised from our liturgy.

Rather than focusing on the slightly impractical objective of the article, let us look instead at why the claim is wrongheaded.

Judaism, as a rule, does not look kindly on the idea of vengeance. While the Torah recognizes that this is a part of human nature, it offers means of protecting one who committed manslaughter. Throughout history, we find few incidents of revenge taken against those who killed Jews. This could be explained practically; Jews were often powerless in the face of their foes who greatly outnumbered them. Even after the Holocaust, such incidents were rare.

Instead, Jews tend to take a larger view. We have an abiding faith in Divine justice, and we look to Hashem as the ultimate arbiter of that justice. We do not seek to take the law into our own hands, nor do we seek tend to send crowds into the streets looking for an eye for an eye. (That is not to say that it doesn’t happen, but it tends to be the exception, not the rule.) The Syrian born psychologist, Wafa Sultan, said it eloquently in a debate aired on Al-Jazeera Television:

“The Jews have come from the tragedy (of the Holocaust), and forced the world to respect them, with their knowledge, not with their terror, with their work, not their crying and yelling... We have not seen a single Jew blow himself up in a German restaurant. We have not seen a single Jew destroy a church. We have not seen a single Jew protest by killing people.” (http://www.memritv.org/clip_transcript/en/1050.htm)

But the matter goes further than this. On the seventh day of Pesach we read the concluding chapter in the saga of Egyptian slavery, the story of the splitting of the Sea of Reeds, the drowning of the Egyptian charioteers, and the song sung by Moshe and the Israelites. It is a moment that we recall daily in our morning shacharit and ma’ariv liturgies. And still, we find the following midrash recorded in the Talmud:

... שאין הקדוש ברוך הוא שמח במפלתן של רשעים

דאמר ר’ שמואל בר’ נחמן

אמר ר’ יונתן

מאי דכתיב: ולא קרב זה אל זה כל הלילה? - שמות יד:20

באותה שעה בקש מלאכי השרת לומר שירה לפני הקב’’ה

אמר להן הקב’’ה

מעשה ידי טובעין בים ואתם אומרים שירה לפני

...The Holy One, Blessed be He, is not happy with the downfall of the wicked.
For R. Shmuel ben R. Nachman cited R. Yonatan:
What is the meaning of the verse: “And one did not approach the other all that night.” (Ex 14:20)
At that time, the ministering angels wanted to sing praises before the Holy One, Blessed be He,
But the Holy One, Blessed be He, said to them:
The work of My hands is drowning in the sea, and you want to sing praises to me?!

This midrash seems at odds with what we read in the Torah. If this is the case, why do we even bother reciting the song at the sea every morning, and otherwise recalling the splitting of the sea both at morning and at night? This midrash takes its cue from the prooftext cited in it: ולא קרב זה אל זה כל הלילה, And one did not approach the other all that night. (Ex 14:20) The verse is talking about the Israelites on the one hand and the Egyptians on the other. But the Rabbis saw a clue in the phrase זה אל זה, this one to the other one, a reminder of the Isaiah’s theophany, what is recited in the introduction to the Kedushah: וקרא זה אל זה ואמר קדוש קדוש קדוש וגו, “And one would call to the other and say: ‘Holy, holy, holy...’” (Is 6:3) זה אל זה reminded R. Yonatan of the ministering angels, and he saw a dual drama taking place: one on earth between Israel and Egypt, the other in the heavenly abode, where the angels were prevented from singing praise.

Underlying this is an ethos found in the following verses in Proverbs:

בנפל אויביך [אויבך] אל־תשׂמח וּבכשׁלו אל־יגל לבך  

פן־יראה ה’ ורע בעיניו והשׁיב מעליו אפו

If your enemy falls, do not exult,
If he trips, let not your heart rejoice,
Lest Hashem see it and be displeased,
And avert His wrath from him. (24:17-18)

Hashem does not want us to rejoice in the downfall of our enemies; such rejoicing could lead Him to giving them the upper hand. And yet, our midrash recognizes that as humans we are frail enough to seek vindication, to want the satisfaction of justice done. We, however, are charged with patience, that justice is not always as swift as we would wish it to be. We cannot have the satisfaction of tasting revenge, but we can put our faith in Hashem, that he will execute justice in the grand scheme of things.

שפוך חמתך expresses just that. We do not call on our fellow Jews to take guns in hand and kill those who have wronged us. We turn our faith towards Hashem to do justice and to vindicate Israel for its suffering throughout the generations.

However, there is an interesting counterpoint to this. In a Haggadah that dates back to 1521 from Worms and attributed to a grandson of Rashi, we find the following inclusion:

שפוך אהבתך על הגויים אשר ידעוך

ועל הממלכות אשר בשמך קוראים

בגלל חסדים שהם עושים אם זרע יעקב

ומגינים על עמך ישראל מפי אכליהם

יזכו לראות בטובת בחירך

ולשמח בשמחת חגיך

Pour out your love on the nations who know You
And on kingdoms who call Your name.
For the good which they do for the seed of Jacob
And they shield Your people Israel from their enemies.
May they merit to see the good of Your chosen
And to rejoice in the joy of Your nation.


While this passage lacks the scriptural basis of שפוך חמתך, we can see how it represents a discomfort with the idea of seeking only vengeance and justice, for we know that Hashem’s love extends beyond Israel, and that throughout our history we have known of many righteous people among the nations of the world who have dealt kindly with, and even risked their lives for, us. In their honor, perhaps this שפוך אהבתך should be read alongside שפוך חמתך and ought to be included in future editions of the Haggadah.