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Jewish prayer has, of course, evolved over the centuries. Liturgy varies not only from era to era, but from denomination to denomination, locale to locale – sometimes even from synagogue to synagogue. 

One prayer that most services have in common, even if the wording varies slightly, is the “Prayer for the Welfare of the Government.” Such prayers have ancient roots: The prophet Jeremiah exhorted the Jews of Babylon to “seek the welfare of the city…for in its prosperity you shall prosper” (Jeremiah 29:7). The Mishna warns us to “Pray for the welfare of the government, for were it not for fear of it, people would swallow each other alive” (Avot 3:2). Closer to home, American Jews have been praying for the government since the days of George Washington. What of today?

It’s been a while since this prayer served to unify us as a people. Professor Jonathan Sarna noted long ago that use of the prayer declined noticeably during the Vietnam and post-Vietnam years, and even when it was recited, “vigorous expressions of dissent could not be ruled out.” The tension has persisted. During the debate over the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (aka the Iran deal), I visited an Orthodox congregation that refused to pray for the welfare of the Obama administration since it was, in their view, endangering Jewish lives by promoting the deal. Similarly, there are congregations today that refuse to include the Trump administration in their prayers, lest it be interpreted as an endorsement of presidential policy. 

I understand the sentiment. Like so many of us, I, too, struggle with how to balance my values and commitments in a moment of extreme political volatility. Take the issue du jour: the government’s actions vis-à-vis universities. Do I support the White House’s efforts to rid universities of unrepentant antisemites whose behavior has broken countless rules, threatened Jewish students and interrupted learning for everyone? Wholeheartedly. But do I also worry about the wrong people getting swept up, bureaucratic sloppiness and mistakes and whether blunt instruments are being used to attack delicate problems? I do, very much. Why can’t we do the right thing, but do it a little more carefully, with a little more wisdom? 

This is what most Americans seem to want. It’s increasingly difficult to argue that a corrective isn’t necessary for a whole swath of American universities. The public is no longer willing to tolerate what they perceive as arrogant, anarchic actors who disdain the values that so many of us hold dear. While many Americans are struggling to make ends meet, they don’t sympathize with institutions that are enjoying billions of dollars of taxpayer money without feeling accountable to those same taxpayers or even the rule of law. We should be able to slash waste and hold institutions accountable while also preserving cancer research and engineering programs that serve the public interest. 

The “Prayer for Welfare of the Government” offers us a way forward. It labels the ruler’s authority as a divine right (“God who gives salvation unto kings…”) and asks God to protect our rulers from their enemies — but it never says that God has imbued our rulers with infallibility. Depending on the version of the prayer you use, it asks that rulers rule with compassion, justice and wisdom, enlightened by the insights of the Torah. We should be able to hold this complexity as well: To pray for the well-being of our leaders, while also demanding that they “do good” in God’s eyes. 

I’ve always been puzzled by the end of the prayer, though. The traditional version concludes: “In their days and in ours, may Judah be saved and Israel dwell securely. May the Redeemer come to Zion. So may it be His will. And let us say: Amen.” This always felt like a bit of a non sequitur to me. I’m praying for the American government; how did I get to Israel and the messianic age? 

Yom HaAtzmaut, which we’ll celebrate in a few days, offers a clue. 

On Israel’s Independence Day, Jews around the world will sing “Hatikvah,” Israel’s national anthem. The word hatikvah, the hope, shares a Hebrew root with kav — a line, a direction. Ultimately what gives us hope is not blind optimism, but a promise from God that history is moving in a direction, ever forward, toward redemption for the Jewish people and for humanity. 

As Jews throughout history prayed for their government, they did so with full understanding that their government was never going to get things quite right. While they had confidence that one day a redeemer would come to Zion, this was not that day. This was another stop along the way to redemption. So we pray that the imperfect leaders we have, in Washington and in Jerusalem, succeed in efforts to make us more secure, and that the King of Kings will “put into their hearts… compassion to do good.” 

And let us say: Amen.

Mark Charendoff is the president of Maimonides Fund.