The horrific slaughter in Mumbai is difficult to comprehend. The random viciousness of the attackers – who seem to have been very young men – leaves us wondering how minds can be twisted to justify the wanton murder of men, women and children without regard to the sanctity of human life.

In our yearly cycle of Torah readings, we have begun reading the saga of Jacob and his family. In Toldot, the parshah we read on the Shabbat following the massacres, enmity between Jacob and Esau begins with Jacob’s deception, Esau’s anger and Isaac’s bewilderment: “The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau.”

Midrash Rabba 21:1 states: “Isaac left his two sons two legacies. To Jacob, he left the voice, for so it says ‘The voice is the voice of Jacob,’ but to Esau he bequeathed the hands, as it says, ‘but the hands are the hands of Esau.’

“Esau was very proud of his legacy. As it says, ‘And Edom said to him: Thou shalt not pass through me, lest I come out with the sword against you;’ Jacob, too, was proud of his legacy, for it says, ‘And we cried unto the Lord, the God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice.’”

The midrash goes on to argue that, in effect, these are two legacies that will persist: in the messianic era, Esau will be punished with the sword, Jacob will be rewarded with words – a voice raised in celebration.

Now we know that things are not so simple. Words can destroy and devastate as well as build and create, and the sword – military effectiveness – is needed to protect against enemies that would attack.

We still don’t know, as of this writing, what the motivating factor was behind the Mumbai carnage. Were the attackers Islamist terrorists looking simply to spread panic? Did they single out the Chabad rabbi and his wife with particular animus? Did they seek to restore the atmosphere of hostility between Pakistan and India, derailing any hope of detente and progress toward some harmony?

Were they like the suicide bombers and enemies of peace who fire up their weapons whenever there is a glimmer of hope for a settlement between Palestinians and Israelis?

One can see from the daily news that a serpent of hatred has coiled around the hearts of Islamists. There have been horrible attacks in India for several years, and the minions of Al Qaeda lurk in the mountains of Pakistan, attacking soldiers and civilians alike, without regard for life. Hearing the news of 9/11, people danced in the streets, celebrating death and the sword. (Then they blamed the Jews.)

This cult of violence has spread beyond enmity toward our people to engulf others who are innocent of any crimes.

Yet where are the voices?

When will the world realize that violence against one group will inevitably engulf all? When will the world realize that it’s not “the West,” Israel or any one group, but humanity that will pay the price for this cult of violence and death?

I want to hear, loud and clear, the voices of every imam, minister and rabbi raised against continuing this cycle of vengeance. I want to hear from every mosque, from every pulpit, from the Vatican denunciation of these crimes – not hand-wringing, but a call to reject those who take up the sword. I want to hear in those voices revulsion at these acts and against those who perpetrate them.

I want to hear that mothers teach their sons – and daughters – that the sword is not the path to glory and paradise, but a hollow weapon that leads all of us toward mutual destruction.

When our rabbi concluded his teaching on this midrash, he shifted the argument away from the two brothers (and their descendants) to address the current violence. The reward for the entire world will be, he taught, when words, not weapons, are used to settle conflict.

We pray that comfort and a healing message will go out to the thousands of people affected by this latest attack, and that words, not weapons, will lead us toward that messianic era, when there will be no need for the sword of Esau.