August 5, 2025|י"א אב ה' אלפים תשפ"ה From Rome to Gaza: Ancient Wisdom for Modern War By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

We are living through a profoundly difficult and painful time. Israel is engaged in a just war against a barbaric enemy - an enemy that hides among civilians, uses its own people as human shields, and rejoices in Israeli suffering. And yet, world opinion is turning sharply against us. The accusations are fierce: that Israel is starving civilians, that it is waging a genocidal campaign, that it has lost its moral compass.

Many Jews, even those deeply committed to Israel, are struggling: frustrated by how long the war is taking, saddened by images of suffering, and confused about how to process the moral weight of it all. But our tradition - particularly the teachings of Chazal - offers us a deeper lens through which to understand war, responsibility, and moral complexity. And remarkably, that lens emerges through the story of an unlikely figure: the Roman Emperor Nero.

Nero, Rome’s infamous ruler, is best remembered for a dramatic mix of ego, extravagance, and erratic behavior. He’s the man who, legend has it, “fiddled while Rome burned.” Not literally, of course - there were no fiddles then - but the image stuck: Nero playing music as flames devoured his capital, a symbol of chilling indifference during catastrophe.

But for the Jewish people, Nero’s legacy is more than just myth. He was emperor during the outbreak of the Great Revolt in 66 CE, and it was under his reign that Roman legions first marched into Judea, sparking one of the most tragic and transformative wars in our history, leading to the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash which we will commemorate tonight and tomorrow. And then, as the empire unraveled under pressure, so did Nero. Hunted by his own Senate and declared a public enemy, he fled and ultimately died by suicide - or according to some, simply vanished.

Historians tell us he never personally came to Jerusalem; instead, he appointed General Vespasian to suppress the revolt. Nero died in 68 CE, two years before the destruction of the Mikdash.

But the Gemara tells a different, deeply meaningful story. Immediately following the Kamtza-Bar Kamtza episode in Masechet Gittin, the Gemara relates:

שדר עלוייהו לנירון קיסר. כי קאתי, שדא גירא למזרח אתא נפל בירושלים, למערב - אתא נפל בירושלים, לארבע רוחות השמים - אתא נפל בירושלים.

“They sent [a message] and summoned Nero Caesar. When he came, he shot an arrow to the east - it fell toward Jerusalem. To the west - it fell toward Jerusalem. In all four directions of the heavens - each arrow fell toward Jerusalem.”

According to our tradition, Nero began his journey to personally lead the siege against Jerusalem. But he was looking for a sign from Heaven. And he received it. No matter where he shot his arrow, it landed in Jerusalem. The message was stark and unmistakable: it is the Divine plan that Jerusalem should be destroyed.

And yet, Nero was still uneasy.

א"ל לינוקא: פסוק לי פסוקיך.

 “He went to a child and said to him, ‘Recite your verse [i.e., the verse you are studying].’”

אמר ליה: ונתתי את נקמתי באדום ביד עמי ישראל וגו’.

 “The child said: ‘And I will lay My vengeance upon Edom through the hand of My people Israel’” (Yechezkel 25:14).

Apparently, the ancient HALB or HANC Yeshiva day school was still operating next to the Roman army besieging Jerusalem, and kids were attending yeshiva day school at this time. The school bell rings, the kids leave school, and Nero walks over to a student after school and asks, “So, what did you learn today?” Now, as any parent knows, the typical answer is, “Nothing.” But this child offered a pasuk: that God would take vengeance on Edom - understood by Chazal to mean Rome - through the Jewish people.

אמר: קודשא בריך הוא בעי לחרובי ביתיה, ובעי לכפורי ידיה בההוא גברא!

Nero said: “The Holy One, Blessed be He, desires to destroy His House, and He wants to wipe His hands [i.e., place the blame] on that man - on me!”

In a stunning moment of clarity, Nero declares: “I see what’s going on. God wants to destroy His own Mikdash - but He wants me to be the scapegoat.” And what does he do?

ערק ואזל ואיגייר, ונפק מיניה ר"מ

 “He fled, went away, and converted - and from him descended Rabbi Meir.”

Historians don’t record this version. They write that Nero committed suicide. But Chazal present a very different image: a man who stands at the edge of history, sees divine justice unfolding, and chooses not to play a part in destruction. Instead, he transforms his life completely. He converts. He becomes the ancestor of none other than Rabbi Meir - one of the greatest sages in our tradition.

Whether this story occurred exactly as described is not the main point. What matters is what Chazal are trying to teach us through it. And in the context of the Churban, which they understand as a punishment for our sins, their message is layered and profound.

Chazal teach that the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash was not simply the result of Roman power - it was a decree from Heaven. Nero shoots arrows in every direction, and each one lands in Jerusalem. The message is clear: this is God’s plan.

But then comes the deeper truth. Even when history is divinely guided, human beings still have moral responsibility. Nero could have said, “This is fate - I have no choice.” Instead, he steps back. He refuses to be the hand that carries out destruction. He chooses conscience over conquest. And in that choice, he transforms himself - from Roman emperor to righteous convert, the ancestor of Rabbi Meir.

This message couldn’t be more relevant today.

The moral fog surrounding this war is thick. Many claim that Palestinian suffering justifies terrorism. But Chazal remind us: suffering never justifies evil. Murdering civilians, taking hostages, using human shields - these are not acts of resistance. They are crimes. They are wrong. Full stop.

And yet, the story of Nero also speaks to us. Israel is not perfect. Mistakes happen. Wars are messy. But being just in our cause doesn’t free us from accountability. Like Nero, we must never stop asking: What is right? What is just? How can we act with both strength and integrity, with fighting terror while simultaneously trying our best to minimize the suffering of Gazan civilians? And if we fail, then we don’t just make excuses, but we try to do better.

Nero’s story also warns the world. To reward violence with statehood, as some Western nations now suggest, is not diplomacy - it is moral surrender. It tells the world that terror works. That cruelty pays. That evil gets results. And that is a betrayal of the values we claim to uphold.

Chazal teach us something harder, but truer: even when caught in the current of history, we always have a choice. Even in the shadow of destruction, we can choose to do what is right.

And that is where our hope lies - not just in victory, but in vision. In moral clarity. In the belief that no matter how dark the moment, we are never exempt from the responsibility to choose good.

And yet, even amid this stark moral clarity, the story of Nero offers a second, equally powerful truth: the potential for transformation, even among the most unlikely people.

ערק ואזל ואיגייר, ונפק מיניה ר"מ.

This may be the most breathtaking part of the story. Nero, the face of Roman cruelty, becomes a righteous convert - and the progenitor of Rabbi Meir. Chazal are telling us: never underestimate the possibility of change. Never close the door on redemption. This isn’t naïve optimism. It’s radical hope. It’s the Jewish belief that anyone - no matter their past - can reach toward the truth.

This openness is part of the greatness of our tradition. And it speaks volumes especially in a moment like this, when Israel faces an escalating global legitimacy crisis. Support is shrinking in the West. Pressure is mounting. But we must not give in to despair.

As we walk through this war, with all its strategic uncertainties and moral fog, we must hold fast to both parts of Chazal’s message: unwavering moral clarity in the face of evil, and unshakable belief in the power of teshuvah and transformation of those who currently oppose us. Even in the shadow of destruction, Chazal found hope. So must we.