Parashat Shofetim presents a mitzvah that has generated centuries of discussion: “You shall surely appoint a king over yourself” (Devarim 17:15). Is appointing a king an absolute obligation, or does the Torah permit it as a concession to human weakness? Whatever position one takes in that debate, the institution of Jewish kingship was central to the establishment of Am Yisrael in Eretz Yisrael. It began with Shaul, reached its enduring form through David HaMelech, and remains part of our vision of redemption through the restoration of Malchut Beit David. Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom tells us more about this and about the national mitzvot that map our personal journal through Chodesh Elul.
The mitzvah of
appointing a king does not stand alone. Chazal place it within a sequence of
three national mitzvot that together define the spiritual establishment of the
Jewish people in their Land. Remarkably, the same sequence also provides a map
for the inner work of Elul and the Yamim Nora’im.
Three Mitzvot, One National Mission
The Gemara teaches
that, upon entering Eretz Yisrael, the Jewish people were commanded to fulfill
three mitzvot: appoint a king, eradicate Amalek, and build the Beit HaMikdash
(Sanhedrin 20b). The Rambam codifies this at the very beginning of Hilchot
Melachim (1:1) and emphasizes that these mitzvot must be performed in that
order.
This sequence is
woven through the closing parshiyot of Sefer Devarim. Re’eh speaks of the place
Hashem will choose for His dwelling. Shofetim commands the appointment of a
king. Ki Teitzei concludes with the obligation to erase the memory of Amalek.
Moshe Rabbeinu, preparing the nation to enter the Land, was not merely listing
isolated commandments. He was laying out the architecture of Jewish nationhood.
The Rambam’s
placement of these laws is itself striking. Hilchot Melachim concludes the Mishneh
Torah, his monumental codification of Jewish law. Its final chapters move
from the responsibilities of kings to the laws of Mashiach. Jewish kingship is
therefore not a historical curiosity. It belongs to the past, present, and
future of our people. It begins with establishing Hashem’s rule in national
life and culminates in the redeemed world for which we pray.
From National History to Personal Avodah
These parshiyot are
always read as Elul approaches or begins. Elul is a time of preparation,
self-examination, and spiritual resolve. We take stock of who we are, identify
where we have fallen short, and prepare to stand before Hashem on Rosh Hashanah
and Yom Kippur.
The three national
mitzvot can also be understood as three stages in that personal journey.
The first stage is appointing a king. Rosh Hashanah is, above all, the day of Hashem’s coronation. The shofar does more than awaken us; it proclaims the sovereignty of the King. Before asking what we want from the coming year, we must ask whom we serve. Teshuvah begins when we cease placing ourselves at the center and accept that our lives have a higher purpose. “Appointing a king” means renewing our allegiance to Hashem and allowing His will to direct our choices.
We may not be able
to transform ourselves overnight. Elul does not demand dramatic promises that
disappear a few weeks later. It asks for honesty and movement. We identify one
area of negativity and begin to weaken its hold. That is the work of the Aseret
Yemei Teshuvah: confronting the inner adversary and choosing one concrete
step toward becoming better.
The third stage is
building the Mikdash. After accepting the King and beginning to remove what
obstructs us, we can create a place for holiness. Yom Kippur represents entry
into the Kodesh HaKodashim. On that day, stripped of ordinary physical
concerns, every Jew is invited into an atmosphere of purity, forgiveness, and
closeness to Hashem. The personal Beit HaMikdash is built when our heart, home,
and daily life become places in which the Shechinah can dwell.
The Light of Psalm 27
This progression
helps explain why Psalm 27, LeDavid Hashem Ori Veyishi, accompanies us
through Elul and the festival season. The Midrash associates its opening words
with these sacred days: “Hashem is my light” points to Rosh Hashanah; “my
salvation” to Yom Kippur; and the later image of being sheltered in His sukkah
points to Sukkot.
The psalm
acknowledges danger without surrendering to fear. Enemies may surround us, but
our attention remains fixed on Hashem: “One thing I ask of Hashem…that I may
dwell in the house of Hashem all the days of my life.” Its movement mirrors the
three mitzvot. We recognize the true King, resist the forces that threaten us,
and yearn to dwell in His sanctuary.
Building the Sanctuary Within
Elul asks us not
merely to admire that light in others, but to kindle it within ourselves. The
path is clear: accept the King, confront the Amalek within, and build a
sanctuary for Hashem in our lives.
Rosh Hashanah calls
us to offer our allegiance. The Aseret Yemei Teshuvah call us to change.
Yom Kippur calls us to holiness. Sukkot then gathers us beneath the shelter of
Hashem’s presence.
These are not
disconnected holidays, nor are the Torah’s three national mitzvot disconnected
commands. Together they describe the journey of a nation and the journey of
every Jewish soul: from sovereignty, through struggle, to sacred space.
May we recognize
the light Hashem sends even in difficult times. May that light guide our
teshuvah, illuminate the year ahead, and hasten the day when the national
journey is completed with the restoration of Malchut Beit David and the
rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash.
