The final blessing of the Amidah is the blessing of peace. It comes in two versions: sim shalom in the morning, and shalom rav in the afternoon and evening. When repeated by the shaliach tzibbur, the cantor, or “representative of the congregation” it is preceded by the birkat cohanim, the priestly blessing, which concludes with “May G-d lift his face to you and grant you peace.”
When the Temple stood in Jerusalem, the blessing of peace was given by the cohanim as the conclusion of the sacrificial ceremony. So it is fitting that the Amidah, which is the closest thing we have to an “audience” with G-d, concludes with a similar prayer for peace.
Peace, for us, is not merely the absence of war. Nor is it a totalitarian repression of all conflict. Peace involves “happiness and blessing, grace, love, and mercy.” A real peace, not a “cold peace.”
The original text of the blessing was distinctly particularistic. It called for peace “on us and all Israel, Your people.” In recent years, the prayer has been shifted in Conservative prayer books in a more universalistic direction, calling for peace “in the world, happiness etc. on us and all Israel your people.” Or more simply, “universal peace…” Reform and Reconstructionist siddurim go even further, adding phrases like “on all who fear Your name,” “on all the sons of man, your children,” “Your people and all peoples.”
I must say, I find this trend problematic. Not, I hasten to mention, because I don’t wish peace on everyone in the world. Of course I do. But is it never permitted for us as Jews to just express our concern for the peace of the Jewish people, the most harried and persecuted people in the history of the world?
As I recently wrote concerning the Black Lives Matter movement: When people insist that Black Lives Matter, they are not insisting that other lives don’t matter. But when people insist that All Lives Matter, one cannot escape the impression that what they are really saying is that black lives, in and of themselves, in their own uniqueness and with all the specificity of lived historical experience, don’t matter enough to be given the focused attention they deserve.
The same must be said for Jewish lives, and our need for peace. We have gone through the shoah, through synagogue attacks, terrorism, and unceasing genocidal wars against Israel. It would be unrealistic to expect “shalom” to mean the same to “all peoples” as it means to us.
To us, it means everything.