From:          "Ohr Somayach" <ohr@virtual.co.il>
To:            weekly@vjlists.com
Subject:       Torah Weekly - Shoftim

* TORAH WEEKLY *
Highlights of the Weekly Torah Portion
Parshat Shoftim
For the week ending 2 Elul 5759 / 13 & 14 August 1999
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Overview

Moshe tells Bnei Yisrael to appoint judges and officers in their
cities.  A bribe of even an insignificant sum is forbidden.  Trees are
not to be planted near Hashem's altar, as was the way of idolaters.
Blemishes in animals designated for offerings and other points of
disqualification are listed.  The Great Sanhedrin is to make binding
decisions on new situations according to Torah criteria to prevent the
fragmentation of the Torah.  A very learned scholar who refuses to
accept the Halachic decisions of the Sanhedrin incurs the death
penalty.  A Jewish king may only have possessions and symbols of power
commensurate with the honor of his office, but not for
self-aggrandizement.  He is to write for himself two sifrei Torah, one
to be kept with him wherever he goes, so that he doesn't become
haughty.  Neither the kohanim nor the levi'im are to inherit land in
the Land of Israel, rather they are to be supported by the community
by a system of tithes.  All divination is prohibited.  Hashem promises
the Jewish People that He will send them prophets to guide them, and
Moshe explains how a genuine prophet may be distinguished from a false
one.  Cities of refuge are to be provided for someone who kills
accidentally, in order to escape the blood-avenger from the family of
the deceased.  However, someone who kills with malice is to be handed
over to the blood- avenger who may exact his revenge.  Moshe cautions
Bnei Yisrael not to move boundary markers to increase their property.
Two witnesses who conspire to "frame" a third party are to be punished
with that same punishment that they conspired to bring upon the
innocent party.  A kohen is to be anointed specifically for when
Israel goes to war, to instill trust in Hashem.  Amongst those who are
disqualified from going to war is anyone who has built a new house but
not lived in it yet, or anyone who is fearful or fainthearted.  An
enemy must be given the chance to make peace, but if they refuse, all
the males are to be killed.  Fruit trees are to be preserved and not
cut down during the siege.  If a corpse is found between cities, the
elders of the nearest city must take a heifer, slaughter it, and wash
their hands over it, saying that they are not guilty of the death.

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Insights

Seeing And Seeming

"Righteousness, righteousness, shall you pursue."  (16:20)

Things seen are not always the way things seem.  Oliver Cromwell had a
large wart on his face.  Lucky for him there was no television in the
seventeenth century or he probably never would have become the first
non- royal ruler of England.  Nowadays he would have required
extensive plastic surgery to even think about competing in the
primaries.

 They say that the two basic requirements of a good television
newscaster are "teeth and hair."  Politics has become a soap opera,
and the actors in this real life sitcom have to look like movie stars.
 Television has reduced real life to soap opera.  How people look is
at least as important as who and what they are.

 The Torah cautions us in this week's parsha that the sole
qualification for choosing a judge is his righteousness:
"Righteousness, righteousness, shall you pursue."  Even if he doesn't
have wealth and presence -- attributes befitting a judge -- yet, if he
is the most righteous person you can find, choose him despite what he
lacks in those other areas.

 It is for this reason that the Torah juxtaposes the command to
appoint righteous judges with a seeming non-sequitur:  "You shall not
plant for yourself...any tree near the altar of Hashem... And you
shall not erect for yourselves a pillar, which Hashem, your G-d,
hates.  You shall not slaughter for Hashem, your G-d, an ox or a lamb
or a kid-goat in which there is a blemish..."   What do these three
things have in common with the appointment of righteous judges?

 Using mere physical eyes, one would think that a beautiful tree
growing near the altar would lend a sense of grace and majesty to the
service of G-d.  Seeing is not always the way things seem.  The Torah
with its spiritual "eyes" tells us that a tree planted near the altar
is revolting to G-d.  Why?  A tree symbolizes growth.  A fatal
idolatrous misconception is that G-d "grows" by Man's service of Him.
Judaism says that the actions of Man can neither add to nor subtract
from the Infinite One.

 We see this idea expressed in the engraving of the Ten Commandments.
 
Why were they engraved on stone?  Why not on wood?  Stone doesn't
change.  It doesn't grow.  The Holy Ark, on the other hand, had a
wooden core.  The Ark symbolizes Man.  The tablets of the Torah, the
unchanging Will of G-d, find their home in the Ark -- the heart of
Man.  When Man places the Torah in his heart, he grows.  His spiritual
core expands and develops like a tree.  G-d, however, is, was, and
will be.  He is existence.  We cannot add to Him.

 What is despicable about a pillar?  Drive along the main boulevard of
 
any capital and you'll see any number of statues.  Soldiers on massive
stone horses, foreleg raised, forever about to canter.  Frozen in a
remembrance of things past.  A pillar, a monument, always relates to
things that were.  A Jew relates to G-d not just as He who created
everything, but as the G-d who continues to create existence every
nano-second.  The Jew's relationship with G-d is not just to build Him
monuments for the past, as if to say "G-d -- You did a great job.  See
ya."  The Jew recognizes that since G-d created us, He created us with
and for a purpose.  Therefore we are obliged to fulfill that purpose.
It's an ongoing relationship.

 The third abomination is an offering with a blemish.

 Most of us believe there's a G-d.  But when it comes to serving Him
wholeheartedly, with all our heart and soul, we would rather think
like the ancient Greeks -- that He made the world and went off to play
golf; that He's not interested in what we do.  A blemish in an
offering symbolizes that our service of G-d is lacking total
commitment.  It means we want a junior partnership with the Boss.
It's like saying "Look G-d, I know you rule the world and everything,
but let me have a little space to run my own show over here."  A Jew
serves G-d on a full-time twenty-four-hour-a-day basis.  We never
close.

* Sources: Sforno, Meshech Chochma, Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch,
Rabbi Mordechai Perlman

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Ohr Somayach International 
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Jerusalem 91180, Israel 
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Torah/Commentary:  Parashat Shoftim (Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9),
Commentary on the Weekly Torah Reading for 2 Elul, 5759 (August 14,
1999)

by Rabbi Shlomo Riskin

EFRAT, ISRAEL:  To a certain degree, the Right and the Left in
Israel are divided by the Messianists and the non-Messianists, those
who believe we are headed in the direction of Redemption and those who
decry any talk of salvation as fanaticism.  The arch-rationalist of
Jewish philosophy, Moses Maimonides (Rambam), concludes his magnum
opus on Jewish law, Mishneh Torah, with a description of the
Millennium or the Messianic Age, and he declares that "anyone who does
not believe in him (the Messiah) or does not anxiously await his
coming denies not only the teachings of the prophets but also those of
the Torah and Moses our teacher."  [Laws of Kings, Ch. 11, Hal. 1]

This is strong medicine.  Maimonides' brand of messianism is natural,
evolutionary and normative, insisting that both before and during the
period of messianic peace, the natural order of things will remain the
same. Yet this same thinker formulated the necessity of our not only
believing but also anxiously expecting ("mehakeh").  Is not belief
sufficient?  How one anticipates an event is largely an individual
matter: one person might sit at the window facing Jerusalem, even if
she's homebound in Pasaic; another may keep his passport always up to
date so that he won't get stuck on long lines when the day finally
arrives; a third may sign up for service in the I.D.F. (Israel Defense
Forces).

Tales of Hassidic Masters abound with holy men whose suitcases were
packed and waiting.  The real question is, why should anxious
expectation be such an important part of the commandment?  This week's
portion of Shoftim, which includes the commandment to anoint a king
over Israel, gives us a hint as to why it is absolutely necessary to
incorporate the notion of waiting, of yearning and hoping, into a
belief system, particularly if it involves the loftiest goal of all,
the very climax of human history, the restoration of the House of
David.

Our Bible provides for the possibility of a king, but any resemblance
to neighboring kings is at best coincidental:

"The king must not accumulate too many horses...He also must not have
many wives so that they not make his heart go astray. He shall also
not accumulate much silver and gold." [Deuteronomy 17:16-17]

Even more importantly, our king must be a representative of the King
of all Kings, the recorder and transmitter of His Torah:

"And it shall be as he ascends upon the throne of his kingdom, that he
shall write him a copy of this Torah in a book..."  [Deuteronomy
17:18]

Long before Plato, the Jewish model for the monarchy is the
philospher-king.  The Bible he must write is not to serve as a mere
ritual object "for show":

"And it (the Torah) shall be with him and he shall read therein all
the days of his life, that he may learn to fear the Eternal his G-d,
to keep all the words of this Torah and these statutes, to do them.
This is so that his heart may not be exalted above his brethren, and
that he depart not from the commandment, to the right or to the
left..."  [Deuteronomy 17:19]

The simple meaning of the words is that the king writes his own Torah
Scroll.  Undoubtedly, anointing the new king thrusts him into a
whirlwind of national obligations and responsibilities, whatever is
necessary to protect and provide for the population.  So how much time
is there left for the king to write his own Sefer Torah?

Common sense would have it that the writing of the Torah was carried
out over a period of time, the king fitting it into his tight
schedule.  If this is so, why does the Torah choose the word
"k'shivto" which means "as he ascends the throne" and not "b'shivto"
which would suggest the entire time period that the king reigns?

Evidence for the different meanings of these two words is found in
Proverbs and in the Book of Kings. 

In the midst of the chronicles of various kings of Israel, we read how
Ela the son of Basha began to reign in Tirza, and that after two years
his servant Zimri conspired against him.

"And it came to pass when he [Zimri] began to reign, as soon as he sat
down ("k'shivto") on his throne that he slew all the house of
Ba'asha."  [1 Kings 16:11]

Other than our portion of Shoftim, this is only time that the word
"k'shivto" appears and it is clear that the usurper Zimri did not wait
until he was settled into his throne.  He acted immediately,
"k'shivto", as soon as he assumed the Kingship.  Had he not acted
immediately, he probably would never have become King!

In contrast, the single appearance of the word "b'shivto" in the Bible
confirms that its meaning suggests sitting over a period of time.
Every Friday night we sing Eshet Chayil, the ode to the Women of
Valor, in which one verse reads:  "Her husband is known in the gates
whilst he sits among the elders of the land."  [Proverbs 31:23]

Despite the extraordinary responsibilities of a newly anointed king,
the Bible insists that he recite the Torah at the time that he assumes
the throne.  I would suggest a very human and understandable reason
for the Bible's haste.

The Scripture wants to capture and to extend as much as possible in
writing all of the exalted feelings and anticipations, the lofty plans
and preparations, which characterizes the immediate period prior to
the assumption of a new stage of life or the elevation to an important
position.  This is especially necessary because, all too often,
history demonstrates that an exalted kingship could descend into
wanton greed and corruption.  The spark of divinity which provided
aspiring princes with the best of intentions often turns into an
almost bestial hunger for accumulating private wealth and sensuous
pleasures.

The tyrannies of the 20th century can rest their laurels on a long
'honor roll' of dictators whose initial thrust was to revolt against
the injustices of their time, only to turn themselves into caricatures
of evil, mimicking their former enemies on a scale beyond imagination.
 No Russian czar comes close to Stalin's mass murders.  The 'reign of
terror' of the French Revolution was a mockery of the previous
century's imperial excesses, turning the idealistic justification of
Fraternity and equality into a cruel joke.

We celebrate the festival of the victory of the Maccabean revolution
for the eight days of Chanukah because of a small cruse of Menorah oil
enough for one day which miraculously lasted for seven.  The miracle
was therefore only a seven-day miracle, so why do we rejoice for
eight?  One of the answers I am fond of giving is that the Jewish
freedom fighters over 2000 years ago remembered the Holy Temple ideal
of purity even AFTER they won their battle, a rare phenomenon for
revolutions in general.

Why does Maimonides codify a law requiring us to look forward to the
restoration of the kingdom of David?  In certain ways, preparing for
the coming of the king is more significant than his actual arrival.
The Festival of the giving of the Torah is called "weeks" ("Shavuot"
or Pentecost) because of the Israelite anticipation of and preparation
for the Divine Revelation at Sinai while we were in the desert.  Once
we received the Torah we hardly made good use of it, worshiping the
golden calf only forty days later.  If only we could maintain the
bliss of the moments before we stood under the nuptial canopy, the
idealism of the first moments when we assumed a new position of
stature!

Perhaps our finest hours are those spent in anxious anticipation and
preparation for the Messiah, just as the King's most important task is
to incorporate the ideals of his ascension to the throne into the much
longer period of his reign.  It is pre-Zionism and not post-Zionism
which must guide our steps.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Shlomo Riskin
Efrat, Israel

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