Why Jews Need an Army

When the Jews left Egypt, they were a nation of slaves. They had no soldiers, no tanks, and no armies. Yet, the Torah doesn’t say the slaves left Egypt, or even that the Jews left Egypt. The Torah says that the army left Egypt. What did Jews know of armies? They were slaves, not soldiers.

When attacked by enemies in the desert, Jews had to draft an army each time. Moses told Joshua to choose men to defend against Amalek. G-d told Moses to draft fighters to fight against Midian. They didn’t have a standing army. So, why did the Torah call the Jews who left Egypt an army?

Army of G-d

The answer is found in the full moniker: The Torah calls them the army of G-d. G-d doesn’t need an army to fight his physical enemies. G-d needs an army to fight his spiritual enemies. G-d had told Moses that the purpose of leaving Egypt was to gather at Sinai to receive the Torah. G-d was about to give His Torah to a people on Earth, a place filled with paganism, hedonism, and immorality. The Jews would be G-d’s army to fight back against these unholy forces of darkness and introduce light.

You would think G-d would call us lamplighters or electricians in the modern day, but no, He called us an army. Because pushing back against our wicked impulses is akin to war. We can’t pretend it is a genteel undertaking. Our wicked inclinations come armed for bear. They don’t let up and chip away at us constantly. The only way to prevail against our impulses is to treat them as enemies and prepare for war.

Every time we want to pray, our minds wander; it is a battle to maintain concentration. Every time we want to give to charity but feel drawn to use the money for ourselves, we are at war with ourselves. Every time we struggle with lust, greed, dishonesty, pride, anger, and envy, we are at war.

Every time we lose confidence, every time we grow vulnerable and timid, every time we feel pushed to bow out of a public role or communal commitment due to internal trauma and shame, we are at war with ourselves. But when we fight against ourselves, we are wary of resisting too hard lest we get hurt. The brilliance of the Torah’s idea is to label internal destructive voices and negative influences as external enemies. Once they are named, they are not part of us. They are enemies we work to eradicate.

The Mission

When we are part of an army, the mission rules the day. The army has planners and fighters. The planners understand the global mission and its purpose. They understand the strategies and tactics. The fighters don’t usually know the big picture. They are given a very narrow set of orders. Take this hill. March through this night. Capture this guard. Perform this maneuver. If they understand the purpose, it is fine and good. But if they don’t, they still need to execute the mission.

A soldier who refuses an order to march backwards because it feels like a retreat undermines the war effort. He doesn’t know the larger picture and doesn’t understand if this is a flanking or a trapping maneuver. It is not his place to know it. That is the planner’s concern. The soldier must execute.

This, too, is very helpful for us. Sometimes we become overly analytical and get too bogged down by internal processing. We self-analyze to understand our motives, weaknesses, and their causes. This doesn’t help. It just gets in the way. Imagine someone who refuses to eat until they understand how the digestive system works. They would die from starvation before they grasped this complex matter.

In an army, your job is not to analyze. It is to do. Understanding is a bonus if you have it, but the primary task is the action. This is why our ancestors responded at Sinai, we will do, and we will understand. First do, then understand. This hierarchy is critical to success.

Synchronized Missions

Another critical benefit of calling our effort a war effort is that we realize we don’t have to complete the task. When the generals plan an attack, they assign each division a set of goals. The division commanders assign missions to each unit, and the unit commanders assign tasks to each soldier. No soldiers fight the battle alone. Each soldier does their job, and when all is completed, the mission is accomplished.

It is natural for each soldier to want to do more. But if any soldier went off on their own to perform tasks assigned to others, they could jeopardize the entire strategy. They need to stick to their task and leave the rest to everyone else.

The same applies to Judaism. G-d assigned certain tasks to certain units. The Kohanim have their mission, the Levites have their mission, and the Israelites have their mission. Similarly, the mission of men differs from that of women.

By the same token, the mission changes from generation to generation. For example, two thousand years ago, the mission was to leave the land fallow in the seventh year. Five hundred years ago, the mission was to not lend money to Jews on interest. Now the mission is to avoid inappropriate online browsing on our smartphones in the privacy of our own homes. Every generation has its temptations and its tasks.

Then there are individual missions. For some, the mission is to overcome childhood trauma and come out of their shell. For another, it is about letting go of shame and being happy. For another, it is to run a business without cheating. For another, it is to give regularly to charity. And the list goes on.

The key is to embrace our mission without worrying that it is not important enough or fancy enough. We don’t need a fancy mission. We only need our mission. Don’t worry, the other missions will get done. We just need to stick to our task. We each need to do our job, and the war will be won.

Synchronized Timing

Let me share one more lesson from labelling our spiritual pursuits as a war. When the army sets out on a mission, it leads a synchronized dance. Hundreds of tasks must be completed at the right time, in the right place, and in the right order. You can’t attack the inner buildings before the outer buildings have been secured. You can’t shoot the loud guns before you have maximized the element of surprise. You must attack at the precisely planned moment so the other flanks can attack simultaneously. It is a choreographed dance, and timing is critical down to the last second.

In Judaism, every tradition has its measure, its place, and its time. The Seder is for Passover night and not for Rosh Hashanah. The morning service is for the morning, not the afternoon. Simchat Torah is for dancing with the Torah, not for Torah lectures. Yom Kippur is only one day, not two or even 1.25. Everything has its slot and measure.

Moreover, the sun sets on Friday night in a choreographed dance across the world. The first Jewish community to usher in Shabbat is in New Zealand, and the last is in Hawaii. As the sun sets around the world, each community lights Shabbat candles at its precise moment, gradually illuminating the globe.

Similarly, our lifespan comes in a particular slot in history. Our part comes after our predecessors and before our descendants. We only have one lifetime, and we must get it done. Every Soldier does their bit. Every unit performs its mission. Each is at the right time and in the right place. And together, the overall mission is accomplished. The overall mission is to make the world holy, eradicate unholiness, and usher in the era of Mashiach.[1]

[1] This essay is based on the Chassidic discourse, Basi Legani, chapter 10.