“Judges and Officers in All Your Gates.” A Dvar Torah on Parashat Shoftim

Parashat Shoftim opens with a command that places justice at the entrance to Jewish communal life: “Judges and officers shall you appoint for yourself in all your gates” (Deuteronomy 16:18). The Torah does not present justice as an abstract ideal to be admired from a distance. Justice must be established wherever people live, wherever disputes arise, wherever authority is exercised, and wherever decisions affect the lives of others. Every city is to possess courts capable of judging honestly and administering the law faithfully. Before Israel can become the holy society envisioned by the Torah, it must first become a society in which judgment is fair, authority is restrained, and the law applies without favoritism.

The great declaration that follows has echoed throughout Jewish history: “Tzedek, tzedek tirdof — Justice, justice shall you pursue” (Deuteronomy 16:20). The Torah does not merely tell us to appreciate justice or speak eloquently about it. We are commanded to pursue it. Justice requires movement, discipline, and sometimes considerable courage. It means refusing to distort judgment because a person is powerful, wealthy, popular, sympathetic, or useful to us. Immediately before this command, the Torah warns judges not to pervert justice, show favoritism, or accept a bribe, “for a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise and distorts the words of the righteous.” Human beings are susceptible to self-interest, even when we believe ourselves to be acting honorably. Torah therefore does not build justice upon good intentions alone. It creates laws, courts, witnesses, procedures, and responsibilities precisely because righteousness must be protected from our own weaknesses.

Jewish tradition understands the establishment of courts not merely as useful administration but as a Torah obligation. The Written Torah gives the command, while the Oral Torah explains how judgment is to function in practice: who may judge, what constitutes testimony, how evidence is examined, how litigants are heard, and how courts protect the integrity of the law. Justice in Judaism is therefore neither arbitrary nor improvised. It exists within a legal tradition whose purpose is to prevent personal passion, influence, anger, or social pressure from replacing Torah.

This principle reaches beyond the formal courtroom. Every Jewish community must consider how authority is exercised within its own gates. Synagogues, charitable organizations, schools, rabbinic institutions, and families all possess forms of power. Wherever power exists, Torah demands responsibility. Financial stewardship should be honest. Conflicts of interest should be taken seriously. Accusations should be examined carefully. The dignity of both the injured and the accused should be protected. Leadership should never become an excuse for secrecy, favoritism, or humiliation. Torah observance cannot be separated from the manner in which we treat those entrusted to our care.

Shoftim develops this theology of restrained authority most clearly in its laws concerning the king. Israel may appoint a king, but the king is never permitted to become absolute. He must not multiply horses, wives, or silver and gold for himself. Most significantly, he must possess a copy of the Torah and read from it throughout his life, “so that his heart will not become haughty over his brothers” (Deuteronomy 17:20).

That final phrase is remarkable. The king remains one of his brothers.

He may possess greater authority, but he does not possess greater human worth. His office does not place him above Torah, nor does it place him outside the people he governs. Indeed, the more authority he possesses, the greater his obligation to humility becomes. Torah must accompany him precisely because power has a tendency to convince a person that ordinary limitations no longer apply.

This lesson speaks directly to religious leadership. A rabbi, teacher, elder, or communal leader should become more humble as responsibility increases, not less. Torah knowledge is never a license to dominate other Jews. Greater observance does not authorize contempt for those who know less or practice less. Authority under Torah is fundamentally an obligation of service. The leader studies so that he can teach, learns so that he can judge wisely, and restrains himself so that those entrusted to him are protected.

Shoftim then turns toward another kind of authority: the prophet. Israel is forbidden to seek knowledge or power through the divinatory practices of the surrounding nations. Sorcery, necromancy, omens, and attempts to manipulate unseen forces are rejected because Israel is called instead to wholehearted trust in God: “You shall be wholehearted with Hashem your God” (Deuteronomy 18:13).

The Torah acknowledges authentic prophecy, but prophetic claims are not beyond examination. A person claiming to speak in the name of God is not entitled to obedience merely because he is charismatic, persuasive, spiritually impressive, or claims a supernatural experience. Torah establishes standards. Claims must be tested. A purported revelation cannot overturn the Torah given through Moshe. Jewish faith is therefore not a religion of uncontrolled spiritual enthusiasm. Religious experience must remain subordinate to the covenant.

This principle remains important even in an age without biblical prophecy. People still claim visions, revelations, secret knowledge, extraordinary spiritual authority, and certainty about the intentions of Heaven. Shoftim teaches caution. Judaism does not ask us to surrender reason or Torah because someone speaks dramatically in God’s name. Our religious lives are anchored in the Torah God has already given us and in the authoritative tradition that explains its commandments.

The parashah then returns to the administration of justice through the laws of the cities of refuge. Torah distinguishes between intentional murder and accidental killing. Both involve terrible loss, but they are not morally or legally identical. Intent matters. Circumstances matter. Evidence matters. The court must determine what actually occurred.

Likewise, “One witness shall not rise against a person for any iniquity or any sin… according to two witnesses or according to three witnesses shall a matter be established” (Deuteronomy 19:15). The Torah refuses to allow a person’s life or reputation to be destroyed merely because one accusation has been made. Witnesses are examined, testimony is evaluated, and malicious false testimony carries serious consequences.

There is great wisdom here for our own age. We live in a culture in which an accusation can travel across the world in minutes. Outrage often arrives before evidence, judgment before investigation, and punishment before anyone has carefully established what occurred. Torah teaches another way. Listen to those who claim to have been harmed. Take allegations seriously. Protect people from immediate danger when necessary. But investigate carefully. Distinguish what is known from what is alleged. Refuse to allow popularity, anger, social pressure, or rumor to take the place of judgment.

Compassion and due process are not enemies. A Torah society requires both.

Shoftim even places limits upon the destruction permitted during warfare. Before certain cities are attacked, terms of peace are to be offered. Men who are fearful are released from battle rather than shamed for their weakness. And during a siege, Israel is forbidden to destroy fruit-bearing trees needlessly: “You shall not destroy its trees by wielding an axe against them, for from them you shall eat” (Deuteronomy 20:19).

From this command Jewish law develops the principle known as bal tashchit, the prohibition against needless destruction. Torah trains us to see material creation not simply as something available for consumption but as something entrusted to our stewardship. Food should not be wasted carelessly. Useful property should not be destroyed out of anger. Resources should not be squandered merely because replacing them is convenient. Even during the extraordinary circumstances of war, Torah insists that human beings remain capable of restraint.

There is a profound lesson here. Holiness is revealed partly through what we refuse to destroy.

The parashah closes with one of its most unusual ceremonies, the eglah arufah. When a murdered person is discovered outside a city and the killer cannot be identified, the elders of the nearest city must participate in a public ritual and declare, “Our hands did not shed this blood, and our eyes did not see” (Deuteronomy 21:7).

The Sages famously ask why elders would need to deny committing murder. Surely no one suspected the judges themselves of killing the traveler. Rather, the declaration forces communal leaders to confront a deeper question: Did this person pass through our community without assistance? Did we allow someone to leave hungry, vulnerable, or without accompaniment? Was there something we might have done to make his journey safer?

The Torah thus expands the meaning of responsibility. Justice asks, “Who committed the crime?” But righteousness sometimes asks another question as well: “What kind of community allowed the conditions surrounding this tragedy to exist?”

That does not mean that every tragedy is somebody’s fault. Torah does not teach indiscriminate guilt. It does teach us to examine ourselves. Perhaps the roads could be safer. Perhaps the poor could be better supported. Perhaps the stranger could be greeted instead of ignored. Perhaps the elderly person walking alone after services could be offered a ride. Perhaps the Jew quietly slipping away from community could be invited to a Shabbat table before disappearing entirely.

Here the message of Shoftim reaches beyond courts and kings into the ordinary life of every Jew.

“In all your gates” means justice must be present at every threshold.

It belongs at the synagogue door, where we decide whether a newcomer is welcomed or merely tolerated. It belongs at the dining-room table, where parents exercise authority over children. It belongs in business, where honesty is tested by money. It belongs in charitable organizations, where sacred funds must be handled responsibly. It belongs in religious disagreement, where conviction can either remain joined to humility or become an excuse for cruelty. And today it even belongs at the entrance to our digital lives, before we repeat an accusation, join an angry crowd, or publicly condemn a person we have never met.

Shoftim teaches us that a Torah-observant society cannot be built merely by people who possess correct beliefs. It must be built by people willing to submit themselves to justice.

That includes observant Jews.

Indeed, perhaps it especially includes observant Jews. The more Torah we claim to represent, the more carefully we must behave. Torah knowledge should produce humility. Mitzvah observance should deepen responsibility. Leadership should increase restraint. And the pursuit of righteousness should make us more careful about the dignity of other human beings, not less.

We can therefore remain firm in Torah while keeping our hearts open to people. We can believe deeply in halakhah without turning observance into a weapon against Jews who presently live differently. We can encourage greater mitzvah observance without humiliation. We can disagree without hatred. We can teach without coercion. And we can remember that every Jew who enters our gates remains part of our people and deserving of dignity, patience, and concern.

Perhaps this is why the Torah says not merely “practice justice,” but “pursue justice.”

Justice is never completely finished.

There is always another gate at which it must be established. Another judgment that must be examined honestly. Another temptation toward pride that must be restrained. Another vulnerable person who must be protected. Another disagreement in which we must choose truth without cruelty. Another moment when we must decide whether Torah will merely be something we study or something that shapes the way we exercise power.

“Justice, justice shall you pursue, so that you may live and inherit the land that Hashem your God gives you.”

The promise is not accidental. Torah connects the survival of Israel with the pursuit of justice. A holy community is not measured only by the beauty of its prayers, the precision of its ritual observance, or the breadth of its learning. It is also measured by the honesty of its courts, the humility of its leaders, the protection of the vulnerable, the integrity of its speech, and the compassion shown at its gates.

May the Holy One, blessed be He, grant us wisdom to judge honestly, humility to exercise authority responsibly, courage to pursue justice even when it is inconvenient, and compassion to remember the human being standing before us.

May Torah remain upon our lips and within our hearts, and may the gates of our homes and communities become places where truth and kindness meet.

Shabbat shalom.