The Maariv (evening) service begins with this phrase: “G-d is merciful, forgives iniquity, does not destroy, is quick to turn away his ire, and keeps his anger in check. “ (Psalms 78:38)

This assertion is considered important enough to deserve mention early on in the Shacharit (morning) service as well. And for good reason. The phrase addresses one of the earliest and most derogatory accusations against Judaism: that the Jewish G-d is a G-d of wrath, while the Christian G-d is a (superior) G-d of mercy.

It is certainly true that the “Old Testament” G-d is, at times, wrathful. There is, in the Tanach, a whole bunch of “smiting” going on. But there are repeated examples of G-d forgiving the people of Israel, not least after the golden calf episode. In fact, the entire role of the prophets was for the purpose of giving the people the opportunity to repent, and thereby merit G-d’s mercy. And expressions of G-d’s love for Israel are virtually endless.

I will not bother to go into the aspects of the Christian tradition, liturgical and historical,  that are, shall we say, less than merciful. Here’s a well-known example: “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on.”

G-ds of pure mercy don’t usually carry a “terrible swift sword.”

So the classic calumny really doesn’t carry weight, and it’s a good thing to be reminded of this a couple times a day.

But there’s something deeper going on that for us, today, is even more valuable. This message is one that speaks to our hearts. As G-d is, so should we be. We, too, need to be merciful, forgive iniquity, avoid destructive behavior, be quick to temper our rage, and keep our anger in check.”

In other words, this is a daily dose of “anger management”—composed around 3,000 years before “anger management” became—pardon the expression—“all the rage.”

Why does all this matter? Because if we want to stand before ribbono shel olam, “the Master of the Universe”—if we dare to stand before ribbono shel olam—we better come with clean hands. How can we ask for kindness if we do not ourselves show kindness? And that question brings us closer to the nature and purpose of prayer. We might imagine that prayer is our attempt to get Hashem to do our will. In fact, it is at least just as much the opposite—our attempt to get us to obey Hashem’s will, to shape our character, and perhaps more important, to shape society. Keep in mind: mercy, forgiveness, destruction, rage and anger are relational—we express these to others, or sometimes to ourselves. So at the end of the day, our mindful personal prayers do, in fact, shape society.