Swallowed Alive or Bound in Peace: Rabbi Hanina’s Vision of Malkhut

Reflections on Pirkei Avot 3:2 - Based on a transcription from an audio class on the subject.

“Pray for the peace of the kingdom,” said Ribbi Hanina Segan HaKohanim, “for if not for the awe of it, each person would swallow their fellow alive.”

At first glance, the Mishnah reads like political pragmatism. Civilization needs law and order, and without it, chaos reigns. It seems simpler enough. But Ribbi Hanina wasn’t a magistrate or a bureaucrat. He was Segan HaKohanim—vice High Priest. His place was in the Temple, standing barefoot in the blood of sacrifices, navigating the sacred choreography of korbanot. Rabbi Hanina knew deeply the human condition and spirit and spoke from that perspective.

This is his wise warning about what happens when humans are left unchecked, when the thin veil of civility is pulled back. “Ish et re’ehu hayim bala’u”—they would swallow each other alive. He emphasises the savage reality of the relentless drive to survive on this planet - it is essentially an arms race to get ahead and destroy what stands in its way.

Rabbi Hanina is not being poetic or hyperbolic. He saw it in the Temple—sacrifice is not sterile. It is elemental, bloody, and it touches on the primal drives of life. The Kohanim walked barefoot through blood by halakhic requirement. No barrier between the soles of their feet and the lifeblood of animals. They were meant to feel it. Because that blood is our blood. We are by nature, predators—sublimated, sanctified—but not erased.

What drives this urge to consume, to devour the other? Jealousy. At the same time, it can be the engine of all productivity and the root of destruction. King Solomon said it clearly: “I saw that all labor and achievement come from a man’s jealousy of his fellow” (Kohelet 4:4). It is the hunger of the self, comparing and competing, that pushes humanity to innovate, build, create. But it is also what tears societies apart.

Jealousy makes us feel that another’s success diminishes us. That if he is great, I must be small. That if she thrives, I must fail. So we strive. And often we don’t just strive—we bite and maul. We are hard wired for it. Because encoded in our make-up is the sense that to eliminate the presence of the other is to secure our own. That is the default mode of being. Evolution may cloak it in sophistication, but the instinct remains: survive, dominate, eliminate threat.

Malkhut: The Antidote to Anarchy
The Mishnah doesn’t say government — memshala. It says malkhut—kingdom, majesty. Not the brute force of authority, but the cohesive order of a shared purpose. Malkhut is more than a mechanism—it is a vision. A sovereign reality where diversity forms harmony and the parts serve the whole. It is where each individual finds their unique place and contribution within the collective. It is also one of the most challenging realities that humanity has ever endeavoured to achieve due to the powerful drives that aim counter to it. We need God’s help to achieve it. We need prayer.

Law doesn’t fix this. Law merely represses it. Law says: don’t bite, or we’ll bite harder. That is memshala. But malkhut—true malkhut—is the shared reverence for a larger, integrated existence. It is when my existence enhances yours, and yours enhances mine. And it begins with shalom. With peace.

Shalom is the integrity of a whole built from distinct parts. It is the experience of watching the Earth from afar, the Planet Earth camera panning out to the blue sphere—a single living organism teeming with diversity, yet held in seamless harmony. That is shalom. That is malkhut.

Aharon and the Love of Difference
Rabbi Hanina was a kohen. Aharon’s successor in spirit. And Aharon is the figure who embodied shalom. He loved all creatures—ohev et haberiyot. He rejoiced in their difference. He celebrated the uniqueness of Moshe’s role, though it eclipsed his own. He did not compete—he embraced. His heart, the very one on which the names of Israel rested in the Urim veTumim, rejoiced at the greatness of another.

Aharon did not tolerate difference. He was thrilled by it. Every new face, every new configuration of human soul and spirit was a wonder. He walked through the world stunned by the diversity of the Divine expression. That awe made him incapable of jealousy. And it is why the Shekhinah descended only when Aharon entered the Mishkan.

Because the Shekhinah rests where there is shalom. And shalom emerges where each person knows: I am irreplaceable. I am the only one who can live my life. The only one who can contribute what I can contribute. The only one who can become what I can become.

Kin’at Soferim and the Joy of Others’ Greatness
Jealousy, when cleansed and refined, becomes kin’at soferim—the scholar’s envy. Not envy that diminishes the other, but that challenges the self. When a hakham sees another hakham, he doesn’t want to remove him. He wants to rise to meet him. To create, to contribute, to build more. To enhance the splendour of wisdom. That is the drive that fuels wisdom—not because the other’s presence is a threat, but because it is a mirror, a prompt, an inspiration.

This is the experience of true community. It is the thrill of watching an all-star game. Of hearing “We Are the World.” Stevie Wonder and Bruce Springsteen don’t compete. They harmonize. The beauty is in their contrast. The joy is in their convergence.

Pray for Malkhut: A Sacred Imperative
Rabbi Hanina tells us: Pray for it. Don’t assume it. Don’t expect it. The work of civilization is to hold that back with reverence and prayer. This is Because there is din—judgment—in malkhut. The system depends on each part showing up. Contributing. When a window breaks and no one fixes it, malkhut begins to dissolve. That’s true in a city. It’s true in a school. It’s true in a family. When the sharing of sweets sparks a war between siblings, it isn’t trivial—it is a microcosm of the world’s brokenness. Ish et re’ehu hayim bala’u.

So we pray. For a society that honors every voice. For a world that reveres the distinct contributions of its people. For a nation whose citizens are not clones, but harmonies. We pray for the shalom of malkhut. Because without it, we are just animals with clothes and smartphones.

With it, we build the space in which the Divine can dwell.