The ultimate ground for the indispensability of love in justice is implied in a custom of Rabbi Akiba’s. When people came before him in a trifling case, he would tell them the following: “Know before whom you stand — not before me, Rabbi Akiba, but before the Creator of the world.” But who can stand in judgment before God? All need love even in justice, since justice alone would destroy them. And we all stand in judgment before God.

But who is this God before Whom we stand? This question has a clear-cut answer in Judaism in all its forms. The biblical critics postulate an “Elohist” and a “Yahvist” among the sources of the Tenach, according to the two words used for the Deity, Elohim and YHVE. For the rabbis one signifies the divine attribute of judgment; the other that of mercy. On the highest of holy days Jews recite the avinu, malkenu, a plea addressed to a God who is both a loving “father” and judging “king.” The two attributes are both necessary and mutually irreducible. The grounds for both are given in a Midrash in which God is compared to an owner of precious glasses. If the owner pours hot water into them they will break, and also if he pours cold water; so the owner mixes hot and cold, and his glasses are saved. Even so the Master of the universe said unto Himself: If I judge the world in all-forgiving love, sins will abound; if in strict justice, no one will live. So He decided to mix the two, and the world is preserved.

The God of Israel loves the losers of the world [widows, orphans and the poor]; but because they are losers, we are bidden to love them. He also loves justice; but because injustice is rife, we are bidden to seek justice. But when we mete out justice we must take care lest the glasses handed over to us for stewardship break.

From Emil L. Fackenheim, What is Judaism? An Interpretation for the Present Age. Summit Books (New York, 1987).

My dear Melinée, my beloved little orphan, In a few hours I will no longer be of this world. We are going to be executed today at 3:00. This is happening to me like an accident in my life; I don’t believe it, but I nevertheless know that I will never see you again. What can I write you? Everything inside me is confused, yet clear at the same time. I joined the Army of Liberation as a volunteer, and I die within inches of victory and the final goal. I wish for happiness for all those who will survive and taste the sweetness of the freedom and peace of tomorrow. I’m sure that the French people, and all those who fight for freedom, will know how to honor our memory with dignity. At the moment of death, I proclaim that I have no hatred for the German people, or for anyone at all; everyone will receive what he is due, as punishment and as reward. The German people, and all other people, will live in peace and brotherhood after the war, which will not last much longer. Happiness for all … I have one profound regret, and that’s of not having made you happy; I would so much have liked to have a child with you, as you always wished. So I’d absolutely like you to marry after the war, and, for my happiness, to have a child and, to fulfill my last wish, marry someone who will make you happy. All my goods and all my affairs, I leave them to you and to my nephews. After the war you can request your right to a war pension as my wife, for I die as a regular soldier in the French army of liberation.

With the help of friends who’d like to honor me, you should publish my poems and writings that are worth being read. If possible, you should take my memory to my parents in Armenia. I will soon die with 23 of my comrades, with the courage and the serenity of a man with a peaceful conscience; for, personally, I’ve done no one ill, and if I have, it was without hatred. Today is sunny. It’s in looking at the sun and the beauties of nature that I loved so much that I will say farewell to life and to all of you, my beloved wife, and my beloved friends. I forgive all those who did me evil, or who wanted to do so, with the exception of he who betrayed us to redeem his skin, and those who sold us out. I ardently kiss you, as well as your sister and all those who know me, near and far; I hold you all against my heart. Farewell. Your friend, your comrade, your husband,

– Manouchian Michel

P.S. I have 15,000 francs in the valise on the rue de Plaisance. If you can get it, pay off all my debts and give the rest to Armenia. MM