The Destructive Power of Division

  This piece on parashat Shofetim by Rabbi Kenigsberg was first published in Hanassi Highlights, Thursday 13 August. If you would like to read it in Hebrew, thanks to ChatGPT, just click here.

There is a fascinating Midrash related to a verse in Parshat Shofetim that describes the procedure to follow when a particularly difficult halachic question arises:

"Ki yipalei mimcha davar lamishpat, bein dam l'dam, bein din l'din u'bein nega lanega... divrei rivot bish'arecha..."

"If a matter of judgement is beyond you to decide—between blood and blood, between law and law, and between lesion and lesion, matters of dispute within your gates—you shall arise and go up to the place that the Lord your God will choose." (Devarim 17:8)

On the simple level, the verse refers to cases that must be brought before the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem for a definitive ruling.

The Midrash, however, reads the verse differently. Quoted by Rav Chaim Vital in the name of the Arizal, it imagines a conversation between the ministering angels and Hashem at the time of the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash.

The angels ask a piercing question. How could the destruction have been so complete? Doesn't the Torah itself teach compassion?

"Bein dam l'dam"—the Torah commands that the blood of a slaughtered animal be covered with earth, yet the blood of the Jewish people was spilled like water.

"Bein din l'din"—the Torah prohibits slaughtering an animal and its offspring on the same day, yet King Tzidkiyahu and his sons were killed together.

"Bein nega lanega"—before a house afflicted with tzara'at is dismantled, its contents are first removed to spare them from destruction. Yet the Beit HaMikdash itself was destroyed together with all of its precious vessels.

Where, ask the angels, is the attribute of Divine mercy?

Hashem's answer is striking. The explanation lies in the next words of the verse: "Divrei rivot bish'arecha"—there was conflict within your gates. Internal division had become so pervasive that it undermined the very foundations of the nation.

This Midrash is not suggesting that every disagreement is wrong. Judaism has always cherished debate. The pages of the Gemara are built upon respectful argument, and genuine differences of opinion are often a sign of a vibrant Torah life.

The danger begins when disagreement turns into hostility; when we stop arguing about ideas and begin judging people; when we forget that someone who sees the world differently remains our brother or sister.

The Torah does not ask us to think alike. It asks us to remain one people even when we think differently.

That is an important message at every stage of Jewish history. Communities will always contain a diversity of personalities, perspectives and priorities. The real test is not whether disagreements arise—they inevitably will—but whether we allow them to become divrei rivot bish'arecha, the kind of conflict that tears a community apart.

The Midrash reminds us that the strength of the Jewish people lies not in uniformity, but in our ability to preserve mutual respect, shared purpose and genuine concern for one another, even when we disagree.

Shabbat Shalom!

A King, Amalek, and a Sanctuary

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.

First comes national leadership: “Som tasim alecha melech”—appoint a king. Next comes the struggle against Amalek, the force that attacks Israel and seeks to sever the bond between the Jewish people and Hashem. Only after that enemy has been overcome can the nation build the Beit HaBechirah, the sacred dwelling place of the Divine Presence.

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.

The second stage is eradicating Amalek. On the personal level, Amalek represents the coldness, doubt, cynicism, and spiritual inertia that weaken our relationship with Hashem. Each person knows the tendencies that pull him or her away from the life he or she wishes to lead: careless speech, neglected prayer or Torah study, impatience, resentment, unhealthy habits, or simple indifference.

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

We live in a time when the Jewish people know both profound darkness and remarkable light. We have witnessed cruelty, loss, war, and captivity. We have also witnessed courage, unity, prayer, sacrifice, and an unbreakable attachment to Am Yisrael and Eretz Yisrael.

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.

The Subtle Corruption of Shochad

 Here is a devar Torah taken  from a shiur that Rabbi Wein ztz'l gave a couple of years  ago on Shofetim, and summarized by Rabbi Paul Bloom.

One of the central themes of this week’s parashah is the danger of corruption — shochad. The Torah warns explicitly:

“לֹא תַטֶּה מִשְׁפָּט לֹא תַכִּיר פָּנִים וְלֹא תִקַּח שֹׁחַד, כִּי הַשֹּׁחַד יְעַוֵּר עֵינֵי חֲכָמִים וִיסַלֵּף דִּבְרֵי צַדִּיקִים”

“You shall not pervert judgment, you shall not show favoritism, and you shall not take a bribe, for a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise and distorts the words of the righteous.” (Devarim 16:19)

At first glance, the prohibition seems directed only at judges and government officials. But Chazal and Jewish thinkers throughout the ages have seen in this warning a deeper truth: shochad is not limited to bribery in the legal system. Rather, it is a human condition — a distortion of judgment to which every one of us is vulnerable.

Bribery Beyond the Courtroom

The Torah’s language is striking. It does not merely say that bribes are “unfair” or “immoral.” Instead, it teaches that bribery blinds even the wise and corrupts even the righteous. A bribe — whether large or small — undermines objectivity. Once we have a personal stake, we see reality differently.

This is not only about money changing hands. As I heard from my Rebbi, “the entire world is subject to shochad.” Today we might call it “conflict of interest.” And in truth, everything in life carries with it some degree of conflict of interest. Politicians make promises they cannot fulfill in order to win votes — and that too is a form of socially accepted shochad. But the Torah hints to something subtler: the biases that shape our perceptions. Our prejudices, our prior experiences, the way we are “programmed” to see the world — these too can blind us to facts and twist our judgments.

The Sensitivity of Chazal

The Talmud illustrates how deeply Chazal understood the power of shochad. The Gemara (Ketubot 105b) relates that the great sage Shmuel once disqualified himself from judging a case because one of the litigants had stepped aside for him on a narrow bridge, allowing him to pass first.

Was that a bribe? No money was exchanged. Yet Shmuel recognized that even such a small gesture planted in him a favorable impression. That was enough to compromise his impartiality. This story shows the profound awareness our Sages had of human susceptibility. Shochad is not always conscious. It often works subtly, below the surface. It is not about dishonesty — it is about the way our opinions are shaped before we even begin to weigh the facts.

Everyday Biases

This danger extends far beyond the courtroom. Leaders, teachers, rabbis, and parents can all fall prey to it. How often are our opinions about people based not on reality, but on instinct, appearance, or past impressions? A certain style of dress, an accent, a family background — all can bias us unfairly.

There is a famous story about Rav Chaim Shmulevitz. Even as a child, he was known for his strong personality. When he was five years old, his father pointed out the girl who had been designated as his future shidduch. “Do you know who her father is?” he was asked. Rav Chaim immediately responded, “Yes — and I already don’t like him.” The anecdote, though humorous, illustrates how deeply rooted our snap judgments can be.

A World of Madness

A parable captures the depth of this problem. A king was once warned by his advisors that the year’s grain crop had been infected by a fungus that would drive people insane. “Don’t worry,” they said. “We will set aside enough grain for you and for us, so that at least we will remain sane.” But the king replied, “If everyone else becomes insane and we remain sane, then we will appear to be the madmen! The only solution is that we too must eat the grain — but let us put a mark on our foreheads, so that when we see each other, we will remember that we are insane.”

So too with shochad. We are all affected by bias, prejudice, and personal interest. The wise person is not the one who imagines himself immune, but the one who acknowledges his own vulnerability.

The Torah’s Challenge

The Torah therefore gives us a dual message:

1. On a practical level — judges must not take bribes, no matter how small. Legal systems must guard against corruption.
   
   
2. On a deeper, personal level — each of us must be vigilant in recognizing how bias shapes our vision. Our “inner bribes” can blind us just as much as money in an envelope.

By admitting our susceptibility, we can strive toward clearer, fairer judgments of others, and of life itself.

Conclusion

The Torah’s warning against shochad is timeless. It is not merely a legal prohibition but a profound psychological insight: we are never fully objective. Our task is to cultivate awareness, humility, and caution — to place that symbolic “mark on our foreheads” reminding us that our vision may be clouded.

Only with that humility can we hope to approach true justice: “צֶדֶק צֶדֶק תִּרְדֹּף — Justice, justice shall you pursue” (Devarim 16:20).

Leave it to Heaven: Shofetim 5785

Though Rabbi Wein ztz'l may no longer be with us, we continue to benefit from his words of wisdom. All the divrei Torah that we post between now and Simchat Torah were sent to us for publication by the Destiny Foundation before he died. We are grateful for the opportunity to reproduce them here.

Everyone favors equality and justice, and the goal of all democratic societies is to have, as far as humanly possible, a fair and incorruptible judicial system. But judges are only human—no matter how knowledgeable and altruistic they may be—which is why the perfect judicial system has yet to be achieved. 

To sustain a viable society, we are bidden to obey the decisions of the court. As the Talmud points out, "even if they proclaim to you that left is right and right is left, you have to listen to them”. Judicial error is a fact of life in a world where we know that left is never right and right is never left. So, how are judicial errors ever to be corrected? 

The answer usually comes with the passage of time and with the application of common sense to the realities of life. There is a famous saying that “what wisdom cannot accomplish, time will." Heaven, so to speak, takes a hand over time in adjusting erroneous judicial decisions and somehow making things come out right in the end. 

The Torah emphasizes that, even though judicial error is possible if not even probable, we must follow the decisions of our judges if anarchy is not to reign and society to dissolve. Judicial decisions may be analyzed and even disagreed with, but we must respect our judges and comply with their judgments, ultimate justice being left to the province of Heavenly guidance. 

Jewish tradition ascribes judicial decisions not merely to book knowledge or even precedent, but also to a sensible appraisal of fairness and equity. The great Rabbi Israel Lipkin of Salant often pointed out that Heaven alone can take into account all of the facts, consequences and results of judgment, reward and punishment. The human judge is limited in perspective and foresight. 

We know how the law of unintended consequences can dog every law  and legal decision—and that is why the Talmud ruefully depicts God, so to speak, busily undoing many of the decisions and actions of leaders and ordinary people in order to achieve the Divine will and purpose through the actions and decisions of humans. 

All judicial systems contain a process of review and appeal from decisions made by lower courts. This is an inherent realization the judicial error is ever-present and likely in all human affairs—and this is why the phrase “trial and error” is so well known in the English language. Despite its efforts to correct itself, the judicial system is always subject to bias, preconceived notions and erroneous logic and decisions. Even so, the Torah emphasizes that judicial systems are mandatory if society is to function. It is one of the basic seven laws of Noachide tradition. So, as in every other facet of life, the Torah bids us to do the best that we can—but to remain aware of our human limitations. 

“Law, Order, Justice—and an Open Mind”, Rabbi Wein’s essay on Parashat Shofetim last year, can be accessed here.

Learning to Read the Torah

An inquiring mind will pick up items of information from wherever they may be found. But what are the lessons one can learn from them--and what is the yardstick by which their veracity and usefulness may be measured? Our member Rabbi Steven Ettinger shares this answer with us:

While describing his early yeshiva years in Teach Them Diligently (p. 21), Rabbi Wein ztz’l fondly recalled what he learned in ninth grade from Rabbi Mendel Kaplan. Along with Talmud, this famed disciple of the Mir Yeshiva and Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman taught his young student “how to actually read the newspaper, spotting its unintended lessons in life.” Undoubtedly, these were lessons in how to distinguish truth from falsehood, how to remain steadfast to Torah values in a world that celebrated vanity and immorality, and how to understand proper use of political power in contrast with its abuse.

Today’s newspapers and news media are not the information sources that existed in the late 1940s. Now, they report opinions, not facts. Reporters are biased and not objective. There is no longer such thing as verifying sources – there are no standards of truth.

The Torah, of course, is a primary unimpeachable source. The Torah is truth. The Torah is unbiased. Finally, the Torah is eternal. Thus the Torah should be the contemporary global news source – 24-hour – six day - TNN (Torah News Network). The key, perhaps, is only learning to read/interpret it.

Many (certainly those in the media and who appear or attempt to shape public opinion) are heretics or sceptics. They do not believe any of statements made in the previous paragraph regarding our Torah.  They would claim that the Torah is a 3,000 years old manuscript, likely a work of fiction, written in ancient times and completely irrelevant for a modern enlightened society.  They would certainly scoff at concepts like those found in parshat Shofetim: worshiping trees, witchcraft and sorcery, talking to the dead, false prophets allowing killers to flee from avenging family members, breaking a calf’s neck, etc.

However, this parsha is perhaps the penultimate example of the Torah as today’s media source. Nearly every significant story that we can find in our daily news, regardless of topic or discipline, has its roots and more – perhaps its entire arc –in its verses.

The parsha opens with the requirement to establish a justice system and the overriding imperative to pursue righteousness (“tzedek tzedek tirdof”). This prescription is so intense that it is stated as a continuing condition for remaining in the Land of Israel. Looking closely, these pesukim are today’s stories of judicial reform, of the trial of political leaders and of activist courts both here and abroad.

We know how miserly the Torah is with words. Yet in our parsha there is significant redundancy. The word tzedek appears three times in these three verses. Hashem repeats the phrase, “that Hashem has given you” referencing the Land of Israel, twice in these verses. Ramban translates tzedek here as truth and peace. If we commit to unbiased truth and a desire for peace among our people, then these stories become footnotes.

The next topic is the ashera tree that was worshipped as an idol. This seems incomprehensible to our modern sensibilities. Yet how many hundreds of millions “worship” their “Apples.” How many hours a day are their attentions absorbed and subsumed by the content on these devices. More drastic – and alarming – how many of our youth are influenced to the point of experiencing record levels of depression (and epidemic numbers of teen suicides), lower academic achievement levels, behavioral issues, not to mention issues with gender and sexuality. How many headlines and articles are devoted to these topics and can be attributed to this ashera?

Let’s jump forward to another headline, leaders and elections. In Gaza there is a leadership vacuum. In New York they may soon hail the “new generation” leader, the future of American politics -- an antisemitic communist. In Israel, of course, who the Prime Minister is or should be may be the most polarizing issue of all.

This parsha has the only direct commandments regarding leadership – the commandments regarding the Jewish king. It is interesting to note that there is no commandment to anoint one – but there can be a king IF the people request one. More interesting is that we find only two positive commandments, only two tasks that a Jewish king is commanded to perform (in contrast with things he is forbidden to do). He must (i) write a “sefer Torah” and (ii) gather the nation once every seven years to read the Torah to them. Bottom line, the purpose of a Jewish leader is to set an ethical example – one of universal values, God’s values – and to serve the people, not himself or his vanity or ego or pocketbook.

There are so many others, witchcraft and bone reading, cities of refuge, false prophets, the rules of war, ecology, etc. However, let us conclude with another mitzvah that seems so superstitious – that it could easily subject our religion to ridicule – eglah arufah. How strange is this: someone randomly finds an unidentified corpse and no-one knows who killed him. The elders then come out and determine (through precise measurement) which city was nearest. The representatives of that city must take a calf and perform a ceremony involving breaking its neck in order to absolve themselves from sin- on account of the blood that was shed.

How many of today’s stories involve violence and bloodshed? In the newsroom, the bloodier the better. How many murders and assaults? How many gunmen opening fire in shopping centers and schools and stadiums? How many crime-related killings? How many innocent victims of terror and war world-wide.

If mankind could only value life so much that they could gather and regret and have a solemn ceremony for the death of a man they cannot even identify.  If humanity could ask forgiveness for the loss of a single life and ask Hashem to remove guilt for this death – because this is “doing what is right in the sight of Hashem,” then mankind might only be reading the Torah and there would be no news. That day will come – that is the day Moshiach comes.

Law, order, justice -- and an open mind: Shofetim 5784

Law and order are the hallmarks of a functioning democratic society. The idea that someone who has suffered damage or hurt can receive fair redress through an equitable system of established justice is central to the concept of a free society that grants individual rights to its citizens. But dictatorships also provide law and order for those who live under their rule—and perhaps rather too much of it. It is in this contrast that we find an eternal contest between an ordered and properly functioning society and respect for an individual’s inherent freedoms and rights. 

Anarchy and dictatorial rule are literally poles apart. The Torah addresses this issue while allowing for a great deal of human and national choice in the matter. The general tenor of Jewish tradition is to be wary of big and powerful government. Avot teaches us not to make ourselves known to government, adding that the nature of government is to demand, albeit in a seemingly benign manner, much from the individual. Thus government appears friendly and helpful when it is for its own benefit to do so—but it may be unavailable to help the individual who is hard pressed and in need of outside help. Even so, Pirkei Avot also stresses the necessity for government and the requirement to pray for its success and welfare, for otherwise civilized life could not exist. As in all matters of human existence, the Torah here demands from us a good sense of proportion, wisdom and sophistication in dealing with government and society. The Torah does not lay down absolute rules, but rather establishes general parameters for righteous judicial systems and equitable standards of law enforcement. 

The Torah is clear in its condemnation of corruption and bias, especially in judicial and legal matters. The poor and the wealthy, the scholar and the unlettered, the well-connected and the unknown—all are to be equal before the eyes of judges and the law. The Torah defines true justice as being the pursuit of righteousness and fairness by just means. No unjust means can be condoned, even in the pursuit of apparently righteous causes. 

The Torah abhors every form of corruption in all forms, basing its attitude on recognition that corruption is a natural state of being for humans. We are all somehow corrupted by our past experiences and our pre-set worldviews. It is interesting to note that, for example, the outcome of many cases brought before the United States Supreme Court is almost always predictable, given that the individual justices reflect strongly held views held before they hear an appeal. They are certainly not corrupt in the criminal sense of the word, but in the world of the Torah they are certainly not free from the taint of corruption. The Torah demands an open mind, a listening ear, flexibility of thought and an understanding of human nature and of the ways of the world from those who would serve as judges of other humans. These qualities are not found in abundance, but they are to be searched for and respected in Jewish life and law. True and absolute justice may be unattainable in this world, but the concept of true justice must always be present in all matters of Jewish law and life. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein