Boulder Aish Kodesh

At the beginning of Parshat Shoftim, the Torah gives us a simple and logical commandment: You shall give for yourselves judges and policemen at your gates. It is essential that each locality have a system whereby legal decisions can be made and enforced.

Many Hassidic masters – particular those of the line of Pschischa – give an interpretation that focuses on one’s responsibility to govern one’s self. ‘Give to yourself’ is read as the necessity to be one’s own law enforcement.

Is this interpretive move straying from the pshat – the simple meaning of the verse? It must rather be understood as preclusion to the pshat: if everyone is capable of governing himself, there will be very little need for an external system of judgment, of punishment and reward.

These Rebbes remind us that, ultimately, to need an external reference to remind us of our responsibilities to G-d is b’dieved – not ideal. It can be compared to a person who drives too fast, and only slows down to avoid getting a ticket. Rather than use the possibility of financial liability as a deterrent, that person should internalize the danger to himself and to others and have the self-discipline to maintain that ideal.

We are, in most cases, quite capable of being our own judges and our own police. Our Torah is open and available to everyone. Our history is replete with stories of illiterates – like Rebbe Akiva – who became great sages. We are entitled – commanded – to learn; to know for ourselves. And, as Elie Wiesel emphasizes about the school of Pschischa, we are encouraged to relate to G-d directly, without an intermediary.

Understanding full well that there are limits to self-discipline, Parshat Shoftim provides several layers of external reference points: if a matter shall be beyond you concerning the adjudication of a cases between one blood and another, between one law and another, between one wound and another - any matter of strife within your gates – you shall get up and go up to the place that G-d shall choose. And you shall come to the Priestly Levites and to the judge who will be in those days, and you shall ask and they will tell you the solution of the matter (Dev. 17:8-9).

This verse, according to Sifrei on the Parsha, actually refers to the judges at the gates who do not know how to solve a case. They are commanded to go to Jerusalem to seek aid in resolving the matter. It would certainly take a deep humility for the local judge to admit he does not know, and to go to Jerusalem for council.

But there is no imposed standard as to what cases may be decided locally and what cases must be taken to Jerusalem. When the idea of local judges is first introduced, by Yitro to Moshe in Parshat Yitro, Yitro tells Moshe in Shemot 18:22 that the local judges shall bring to him ‘every important matter’. When Moshe implements Yitro’s plan, however, h changes one important detail: ‘and they would bring the difficult matters to Moshe…’

In some cases, an external reference point provides security in the eventuality that one’s internal system of judgment and self-monitoring breaks down. In some cases, however, reference to that external source is required. The Parsha tells us, for example, about the Jewish king who must write his personal Torah before the Cohanim. He is commanded to study the Torah daily. Similarly, a prophet’s reference point is Hashem, who confirms him/her or denies him/her as a prophet by bringing promised signs to fruition.

We might say that the more absolute the person’s power over others, the more that person is responsible to an external authority. A person in his private life is fully entitled to learn the Law and to monitor his own behavior, with judges and policemen available to enforce the law only if his internal discipline breaks down. We have judges who are empowered to decide the law for others but must be willing to go to higher judges to gain insight or information that they lack. When they do go to higher judges, they do not have the option of not listening. We have a king whose will is in most cases immediately implemented throughout his kingdom, but must be immersed in Torah as his outer reference point. And we have the prophet who speaks basically by his own authority, and his word is the ‘word of G-d’ to the entire nation, but whose ‘superior’ is G-d. And each of these figures will have strong temptation to ignore that authority in the form of bribes.

The Torah tells us to pursue justice, and not to take bribes. To take a bribe is to take something of relative value in place of the continued pursuit of that which has absolute value. When a judge takes money, he is willing to pervert justice for the sake of money. So, too, when we sacrifice our ultimate ideals for the satisfaction of a lower ideal – money, recognition, honor, pride – we have taken a bribe.

Each one of these four types of people has a bribe dangling before him, tempting him. The individual is always tempted to rely too much on self-sufficiency. While we are empowered to be our own judges and policemen, we are also told that we are beholden to external judges and policemen. It may be anathema to listen to someone else’s interpretation of law, but there are many times when we are incapable or unwilling to the proper disciplinary steps for ourselves. Being caught doing something wrong can bring a deep shame whereas if a person wasn’t caught, they would not feel that shame.

Similarly, the judge at the gates must know when to admit that he does not know. Being that the judge at the gate is possibly the most esteemed position in the community (see Efron, Lot, Boaz) it would take great humility to seek guidance from his own superiors. The bribe would be to sacrifice that deeper knowledge for the sake of honor or standing within the community.

The king is tempted to realize that he is the G-d-chosen leader of the G-d-chosen people. He might be tempted to seek horses, wives, and money in order to emphasize the power of his position – as the Torah says, ‘lest his heart become haughty among his brothers’ (Dev. 16:20). This is certainly a bribe in light of the higher ideal, which is to selflessly lead the people toward healthy relationship to G-d.

The prophet, too, may be tempted by the height of his station and the near-absolute nature of his authority. No human being can show – at least at the moment of the revelation of his prophecy- that he is not speaking in the name of G-d. The prophet might choose to say what he wants to say or what he thinks people want to hear in order to achieve certain ends, or even for monetary gain, as it says in Michah 3: ‘And the prophets charm for money.’

Each of these figures, therefore, combines the ideal of personal autonomy with a potentially insufficient means of maintaining that autonomy. We are similarly challenged to work toward the ideal of policing ourselves, of learning for ourselves, of being capable of disciplining ourselves without need of outside help. But we are also charged with admitting when we cannot do it by ourselves. The courage to admit that we need help – that we do not know, that we may be wrong, that we cannot control ourselves – and to resist the bribe of self-glorification is our task.

This tension is brought to light when the Jewish people go to war. The priest who accompanies them tells them that if any of them has recently built a house, planted a vineyard, or engaged a woman to be married, he must turn around and return home, as his ambiguous commitment to the war effort might prevent him from acting valiantly in war. But there is another reason a person should turn around: ‘Let all who are afraid, or soft of heart, return to their home…’ This cannot be decided objectively from outside. Every soldier must resist the bribe of avoiding shame, and back down if he is afraid.

It is essential to know that the individual who manages to humble himself enough to truly seek help is not afforded the privilege of rejecting that help. Just as a local judge who seeks a ruling from the central court in Jerusalem is not allowed to stray from that ruling by punishment of death, and a king must write his Torah in the presence of the priests, and a prophet is liable to death if he misreports a prophecy he has received, we must be capable of receiving guidance from without ‘even if they tell you left is right and right is left¹.’

This is because, when we seek guidance from others, it is usually true that we lack more than a piece of information: we lack a perspective. Put another way, we are often seeking a new level of spiritual maturity. It could be that on our current level, left is left and right is right. But as we move forward, our right is actually left and our left is actually right.

For as we move deeper into our perception of reality, as we move closer to truly understanding G-d and G-d’s will for us in the world, we cannot testify about that reality on our own. For we are each but one witness, and one witness’ testimony, as the parsha tells us, cannot establish reality. And we are each, in a way, conspiring witnesses, seeking to establish our own perceptions as reality, and to make others subject to the implications of that perception. And the punishment, of course, is that we are also subject to the limited reality we create – ‘and you shall do to him as he conspired to do²’.