SALT – PARASHAT SHOFTIM

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI SHABBAT

            The Torah commands toward the beginning of Parashat Shoftim (16:22), “Do not erect for yourselves a monument that the Lord your God despises.” 

            We find among the Rishonim different views as to what kind of “monument” the Torah here forbids us to build.  The Rambam, in Sefer Ha-mitzvot (lo ta’aseh 11) and Hilkhot Avodat Kokhavim (6:6), explains that the Torah speaks of a large edifice used as a gathering place for religious worship that resembles pagan temples.  Benei Yisrael are forbidden from constructing such a building even for the sake of worshipping God.

            Rashi interprets this verse in a generally similar vein, claiming that it refers to an altar made from a single stone.  Such an altar may not be built even for the service of God, because it resembles the kind of altars used by the Canaanite pagans.

            The Rashbam, however, appears to take a much different approach, claiming that the Torah here forbids building any alternative altar.  Once the permanent Mikdash was built in Jerusalem, it became forbidden to offer sacrifices (even to God) in any other location.  This prohibition applied also during the earlier period when the Mishkan stood in Shilo.  The Rashbam comments that this verse refers to these periods, when Benei Yisrael had a designated location for offering sacrifices, and forbids constructing any alternative sacrificial site.  According to the Rashbam’s reading, then, the Torah forbids not only offering sacrifices in alternative locations during these periods, but also the mere construction of such a site.

            Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his Rinat Yitzchak, refers us to a different source which seems to suggest otherwise.  The previous verse forbids planting any tree in the vicinity of the altar, and the Sifrei comments that this applies even to a bama, a private altar.  The simple reading of the Sifrei is that it extends the prohibition to include planting trees alongside private altars, meaning, it is forbidden to plant a tree alongside a bama just as one may not plant a tree near the altar in the courtyard of the Beit Ha-mikdash.  The work Zayit Ra’anan, however, interprets the Sifrei’s comment differently, claiming that it forbids constructing a bama alongside the altar in the Temple courtyard.  Meaning, according to this reading of the Sifrei, just as the Torah forbids planting a tree near the altar, it similarly forbids erecting another altar near the official altar in the courtyard of the Mikdash.

            It clearly emerges from the Zayit Ra’anan’s reading of the Sifrei that elsewhere, outside the vicinity of the Mikdash, it is permissible to construct a bama, so long as one does not actually offer sacrifices on it.  It is only in the vicinity of the Beit Ha-mikdash that the Torah forbids building a bama, just as it forbids planting trees.  This is in contrast to the Rashbam’s interpretation, that the construction of a bama is forbidden in all locations.

            In truth, even if we accept the Zayit Ra’anan’s reading as reflecting the authoritative halakha, it should not surprise us that the Rashbam adopts a different reading.  As we know from other passages in his commentary, the Rashbam believed that the Torah should be studied on the level of peshuto shel mikra (the plain reading of the text) in addition to the level of halakhic exegesis.  It is not uncommon for the Rashbam to offer an interpretation to a verse that opposes the accepted halakhic reading.

            In any event, as the Rinat Yitzchak notes, the Zayit Ra’anan’s reading can easily be reconciled with the Rashbam’s interpretation.  Possibly, the Sifrei referred only to periods of heter bamot, when it was permissible to offer sacrifices on private altars.  In these periods, the Sifrei establishes, although one may construct and offer sacrifices upon a bama, such a structure may not be built in the vicinity of the Temple, just as the Torah forbids planting a tree in that area.  This reading is thus consistent with the Rashbam’s approach, which interprets the verse as forbidding constructing private altars only during periods when it is forbidden to offer sacrifices on private altars.

SUNDAY

            Parashat Shoftim begins with the obligation to assign judges to settle legal disputes fairly and equitably.  Thereafter, the Torah proceeds to issue two other, seemingly unrelated warnings: “Do not plant for yourselves an asheira or any other tree near the altar of the Lord your God… And do not erect a monument that the Lord your God despises” (16:21-22).

            The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (7) takes note of the juxtaposition between the laws of judges and the prohibition against planting trees near the altar, and comments, “Whoever appoints an improper judge over the public is considered as though he planted an asheira in Israel…”  The Rambam, in Hilkhot Sanhedrin (3:8), records a different version of this comment, one which focuses on the prohibition against erecting a monument, rather than planting an asheira: “Whoever appoints over Israel an improper judge is as though he erected a monument.”

            Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks, in his Menachem Tziyon, suggests a possible symbolic explanation for these two comparisons.  A tree sways in whichever way the wind blows; its branches are incapable of withstanding the pressure exerted upon them, and easily yield to external forces.  The comparison drawn by the Gemara between the appointment of an “improper judge” and an asheira tree may perhaps allude to leaders who yield to external pressures, who fail to uphold the integrity of the laws, values and traditions that they were assigned to defend and preserve.  Rather than working to oppose the forces that threaten to undermine the Torah, he subjects himself and his constituents to those very forces, and sways in whichever direction the cultural winds of the time happen to blow.

            The image of a matzeiva, a monument, alludes to the opposite phenomenon, of leaders who remain static and motionless.  The unique challenges posed by each generation demand a unique response and mode of operation, which will often differ substantially from the approaches taken in generations past.  While the laws and ideals of the Torah remain constant and unchanging, the methods employed to uphold and perpetuate them must often be reconsidered.  Thus, while a leader must certainly never bend like a tree to yield to cultural and moral winds, he must similarly not position himself like a “monument,” refusing to undertake the bold measures necessary to respond to the unique challenges that the nation confronts.

MONDAY

            In Parashat Shoftim, Moshe commands Benei Yisrael not to consult with the various forms of sorcery and witchcraft that were prevalent in the pagan world.  He issues in this context the famous admonition, “Tamim tiheyeh im Hashem Elokekha” (literally, “You shall be wholehearted with the Lord your God”- 18:13).

            Rashi explains this verse to mean, “Act with him with innocence and look to him, and do not inquire into future events; rather, whatever comes upon you accept innocently…”  According to Rashi, then, the Torah here commands us to conduct ourselves with a certain innocence, to place the future in God’s hands without trying to “know too much.”  The Ramban similarly explains this command as requiring complete faith in God’s power over all events in the universe, such that we feel no need to consult fortune-tellers.  Our innocent trust in God should obviate the need to anticipate future events through recourse to sorcerers.

            The Rambam, in his Hilkhot Avodat Kokhavim (11:16), interprets this verse differently:

All these things [means of witchcraft] are matters of falsehood and deception, and it is with them that the ancient idolaters misled the peoples of the lands in order that they would follow them.  It is not worthy for Israel, who are sophisticated scholars, to be drawn by these vanities or to conjure in the mind that there is some benefit to it, as it says, "For there is no divination in Jacob, nor witchcraft in Israel"… And whoever believes in these and similar matters, and thinks in his mind that they are true and matters of wisdom but the Torah forbade them, is only from among the fools and mindless people… But people of wisdom and those with complete minds know with irrefutable proof that all these things that the Torah forbade are not matters of wisdom, but nonsense and vanity to which those lacking wisdom were drawn, and on account of which they abandoned all the ways of truth.  And for this reason the Torah said when it warned against all these kinds of vanity, “Tamim tiheyeh im Hashem Elokekha.”

According to the Rambam, the Torah forbade resorting to sorcery not because we must be innocently trusting in God, but rather because these media have no value or substance whatsoever.  The claims of the pagan sorcerers that they can predict the future and negate the forces of nature are, in the Rambam’s words, “matters of falsehood and deception.”  The Rambam thus vehemently insists that one look upon these prohibitions not as requiring simply that we disregard magicians and sorcerers, but rather that we deny their claims altogether.  According to the Rambam, this is what the Torah meant when it declared, “Tamim tiheyeh im Hashem Elokekha.”  This command means that we are to be “sophisticated scholars,” “people of wisdom” and of “complete minds,” and thus reject outright the existence of otherworldly powers.

            Interestingly enough, it emerges that Rashi and the Rambam approach this verse from two entirely different angles.  According to Rashi (and the Ramban), the Torah here demands a certain level of innocence and naiveté; it calls upon us not to try knowing too much, inquiring too extensively that we lose sight of our dependence on the Almighty.  The Rambam, by contrast, understood that the Torah here precisely demands sophistication, that we exercise our intellectual faculties to their fullest so that we can firmly conclude upon the fallacy of the sorcerers’ claims.

            In a sense, both perspectives are equally valid and significant within the development of a religious character as demanded by the Torah.  On the one hand, the Torah certainly encourages sophistication and the pursuit of intellectual achievement.  At the same time, however, we must retain a certain level of innocent faith in God, and trust in Him much as a child senses security in the presence of a parent.  As we work to develop our minds – the crown jewel of the human being – to the very best of our ability, we must also feel a degree of plain, simple faith in God, relying on and trusting in Him without even a second thought.

(Based on a devar Torah by Rav Assaf Bednarsh)

TUESDAY

            In Parashat Shoftim the Torah instructs that the kohanim should not receive a portion of agricultural land in Eretz Yisrael: “The Levite kohanim shall have no portion or share with Israel; they shall partake of the fire-offerings of the Lord and His share” (18:1).

            The Talmud Yerushalmi (Horiyot 3:2) notes that the Torah introduces this command immediately following the section dealing with the Israelite king (17:14-20).  On the basis of this juxtaposition, the Yerushalmi establishes the rule that a kohen may not be appointed king.  (The Ramban, in his famous comments to Bereishit 49:10, points to a different verse as the source of this halakha.)

            How exactly did the Yerushalmi infer this provision from the Torah’s presentation?  Why would the juxtaposition between the laws of the king and the denial of agricultural lands to the kohanim suggest that a kohen cannot become king?

            The Meshekh Chokhma suggests that the Yerushalmi’s inference relates to the fact that the kohanim received no share of the nation’s spoils of war.  As the Rambam writes in Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel (13:9), when the Torah forbids kohanim from taking a “portion” and “share,” it refers to the distribution of military spoils (“portion”) and of agricultural land (“share”).  Now one of the basic laws of kingship is that half of all spoils of war go directly to the royal treasury (Rambam, Hilkhot Melakhim 4:9).  The reason, the Meshekh Chokhma suggests, has to do with the king’s obligation to lead the nation in battle.  If the king knows that he will receive half the booty, he will likely commit himself more vigorously to the planning and execution of battle.  Thus, by juxtaposing the rules of the king and the halakha that kohanim receive no share of battlefield spoils, the Torah indicates that a kohen must not be appointed king.  Since the king bears the obligation to lead the nation in war, and to that end he is given half the booty seized in battle, the fact that a kohen does not receive a share in the spoils demonstrates that a kohen cannot become king.

            Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his Rinat Yitzchak, suggests a simpler explanation for the Yerushalmi’s inference.  As the Rambam famously writes toward the end of Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel (13:12), the Torah denied the kohanim a portion of agricultural land and military spoils because they are to devote themselves to serving God in the Mikdash and as the nation’s scholars and teachers.  The Rambam adds that for this same reason, the Torah exempted the tribe of Levi from military service, in order to allow them to devote themselves fully to their responsibilities as Am Yisrael’s spiritual leaders.

            Accordingly, there may be a much simpler explanation for how the Yerushalmi deduced the halakha forbidding the appointment of a kohen as king.  Leading the nation in battle, as mentioned, constitutes one of a king’s primary responsibilities (see Hilkhot Melakhim 4:10).  Thus, once the Torah commands the kohanim to devote their lives to their religious responsibilities toward the people, as expressed in the verse denying them a share in agricultural lands, we can readily deduce that a kohen cannot serve as a king.  By juxtaposing the laws of the king and the commandment to the kohanim, then, the Torah alludes to us that the roles of king and kohen are incompatible, and the Yerushalmi thus infers from this juxtaposition that a kohen may not serve as king.

WEDNESDAY

            Parashat Shoftim begins with the command to appoint judges in all communities throughout Eretz Yisrael.  As we know from the first Mishna in Masekhet Sanhedrin, Halakha requires the establishment of three different kinds of courts.  The first is the seventy-one-member Sanhedrin, the highest halakhic body which convened in Jerusalem.  Secondly, large cities had a twenty-three-member court, often called a sanhedri ketana (“mini-Sanhedrin”), which was empowered to administer corporal and capital punishment.  Finally, even small towns set up local courts consisting of three judges to settle civil disputes.

            It is unclear whether or not the mitzva introduced in Parashat Shoftim applies to all three levels of Batei Din, and this issue appears to be subject to a debate among the Rishonim.  Rashi, in the beginning of Masekhet Sanhedrin (2a), writes, “They would establish a sanhedri ketana of twenty-three [judges] in each and every city, as it is written, ‘you shall place [judges] in all your gates,’ and the Beit Din Gadol [Sahedrin]…is needed to go out and establish them.”  According to Rashi, the command in this verse (the first verse of Parashat Shoftim) does not relate to the small, three-member courts that were set up in every city.  Rather, the Torah speaks here only of the larger courts, which were authorized to administer punishment for Torah violations.  This also appears to have been the view of the Behag, who, in presenting this mitzva, describes it as requiring the establishment of “sanhedri gedola ve-sanhedri ketana” – the “big” and “small” Sanhedrins.  As mentioned earlier, only the twenty-three-member courts were referred to as a “mini-Sanhedrin,” and thus the Behag clearly held that this Biblical command relates only to the Sanhedrin and to the twenty-three-member courts in the larger cities.

            However, as Rav Yerucham Perlow discusses in his commentary to Saadia Gaon’s listing of the mitzvot (vol. 3, parasha 1), other Rishonim disagreed.  The Rambam, both in his Sefer Ha-mitzvot (asei 176) and in Mishneh Torah (Hilkhot Sanhedrin 1:4), explicitly includes all three levels of courts in his description of this mitzva.  The Semag (asei 97) and Sefer Ha-chinukh (491), who generally follow the Rambam’s listing of the mitzvot, adopt his position on this matter, as well.  Furthermore, as Rav Perlow notes, Saadia Gaon describes this obligation by writing, “Shofeteihem ve-shotereihem ma nehedaru be-mar’am” (“Their judges and officers – how beautiful they looked!”), without distinguishing between different levels of judges.  It appears that he, too, applied the Torah obligation to all three judicial levels.

            Rav Perlow further deduces that Rabbenu Yerucham likewise followed this view.  Rabbenu Yerucham wrote (Netiv Rishon, 4), “There is a rabbinic commandment to appoint judges in every city, even though we do not have semikha nowadays.”  According to Rabbenu Yerucham, the Torah obligation to appoint judges applies only to semukhin, judges who received the formal “ordination” that was conferred from rabbi to student since the time of Moshe Rabbeinu.  Once semikha was discontinued, the Torah obligation no longer applies, but the Sages nevertheless enacted that communities should establish local courts.  Now Rabbenu Yerucham clearly speaks here of the small, three-member courts, for these are the only courts that remain in use nowadays.  Yet, he writes that it is only due to the absence of semikha that the Torah obligation no longer obtains.  We can thus deduce that the Torah obligation applies even to the three-member local courts.

            Rav Perlow contends that this was the view of the Ramban, as well.  In his opening remarks to Parashat Shoftim, the Ramban comments that the general obligation to establish a judiciary had already been established earlier in the Torah, in Parashat Mishpatim.  Regarding the case where an item under a watchman’s charge was lost, the Torah requires bringing the case before judges (“ad ha-elohim yavo devar sheneihem” – Shemot 22:8).  Earlier (Shemot 21:22), the Torah assigned judges the responsibility of determining the fine levied upon somebody who injures a pregnant woman, causing a miscarriage (“ve-natan bi-flilim”).  The Ramban cites these two verses as early sources for the obligation reiterated here, in Parashat Shoftim, to appoint judges.  The aforementioned contexts clearly involve simple monetary disputes, which can be adjudicated by a local, three-member court.  Rav Perlow thus deduces that the Ramban, too, held the position that the Torah obligation applies to all three levels of rabbinical courts.

THURSDAY

            Yesterday, we discussed the mitzva that the Torah introduces in the first verse of Parashat Shoftim, namely, the appointment of judges in communities throughout Eretz Yisrael.  As we saw, there seems to be some disagreement as to whether or not the Biblical command applies to all levels of the judiciary.  According to some Rishonim, as we saw, the Torah obligation refers only to the appointment of the Sanhedrin and the twenty-three-member courts in large cities.  This is as opposed to the three-member courts that were set up in even small towns, and which enjoyed less authority than the larger courts.  Other Rishonim, however, including the Rambam and the Ramban, held that the Torah obligation includes all three levels of the nation’s judiciary.

            A number of writers addressed the question of whether or not the Torah obligation applies nowadays, as well, when we are authorized to appoint only the three-member local courts.  Once the semikha, or the formal “ordination” that was conferred by rabbi upon disciple since the times of Moshe Rabbenu, was discontinued, nobody is qualified to sit on a Sanhedrin or on the twenty-three-member courts.  The question thus arises, according to the view that the Torah obligation refers even to the three-member courts, do we fulfill this obligation by setting up such courts even nowadays, despite the absence of semikha?

Yesterday, we cited the comments of Rabbenu Yerucham, who held that the Torah obligation applies only when judges receive semikha.  Once the semikha was discontinued, Rabbenu Yerucham held, the Torah obligation to appoint judges applies only on the level of Rabbinic enactment.

            However, Rav Eliezer Yehuda Waldenberg, in his Tzitz Eliezer (vol. 15, 69), contends that according to some other opinions the Torah obligation may indeed apply even nowadays.  Firstly, he claims that the Rambam does not appear to hinge the Biblical requirement on the status of semikha, indicating that the Torah obligation remains intact regardless of semikha.  The Tzitz Eliezer’s understanding of the Rambam stands in direct contrast to that of Rav Moshe Feinstein, who, in his Iggerot Moshe (C.M., vol. 1, 1:3), claimed that the Rambam indeed imposed such a condition.  In Sefer Ha-mitzvot (asei 176), the Rambam writes,

You shall know that all these appointees, meaning the Sanhedri Gedola [the Sanhedrin], the Sanhedri ketana [twenty-three-member courts] and the three-member courts and all other appointees should all be in the Land of Israel, and when the semikha existed in the Land of Israel then it was possible for those with semikha to judge both in the land and outside the land…

According to Rav Moshe, the fact that the Rambam speaks in this context – his description of the mitzva to appoint judges – of the three-member courts as consisting of judges with semikha suggests that this is integral to the mitzva.  Without semikha, the Torah obligation cannot apply, and the appointment of courts nowadays is thus required only on the level of Rabbinic enactment.  As mentioned, however, the Tzitz Eliezer disagreed, and held that the Rambam did not view semikha as a precondition for the Torah obligation.

            Another source that the Tzitz Eliezer addresses in this context is the commentary of the Ramban here in Parashat Shoftim.  The Ramban explicitly writes that the appointment of judges nowadays does not constitute a Torah obligation, due to the absence of semikha.  He makes reference in this context to the Gemara’s comment in Masekhet Bava Kama (84a), “Anan shelichutaihu avdinan,” which means that judges nowadays act as “messengers” assigned by the judges of yesteryear, who had formal semikha.  It is assumed that those judges authorized the judges of subsequent generations to adjudicate and issue binding verdicts in certain cases even without semikha, and on this basis rabbinical courts convene even in the post-semikha era (though with more limited authority).  The Ramban appears to apply this even to the mitzva of appointing judges.  Meaning, shelichutaihu avdinan means not only that the Sages authorized judges of subsequent generations to convene, but also that they enacted a Rabbinic obligation to appoint judges, as the Torah obligation does not apply in the absence of semikha.

            Nevertheless, Rav Waldenberg suggested that even the Ramban might acknowledge a Torah obligation nowadays.  Firstly, the Ramban earlier noted that although the Torah’s command applies only in the Land of Israel, even outside the land there is an obligation for judges to convene when the need arises.  In Eretz Yisrael, the nation bears an obligation to establish proper, fixed courts, whereas outside the land, there is an obligation for a community to respond to a civil complaint by appointing judges to hear the case.  Quite possibly, the Tzitz Eliezer contends, this would apply nowadays, as well.  Even if the Torah obligation to set up fixed courts refers only to judges with semikha, nevertheless, even nowadays communities may perhaps bear a Torah obligation in every instance of a civil dispute to ensure the presence of qualified judges to hear the case.

            Furthermore, Rav Waldenberg adds, the Netivot (1:1) boldly asserted that the principle of shelichutaihu avdinan may operate on the level of Torah law.  Meaning, once the courts of earlier generations authorized later generations to appoint judges even without semikha, these judges act on the level of Torah obligation, based on the authority they receive from the earlier Sages.  If so, then the appointment of today’s judges fulfills not merely a rabbinic enactment, but also the Torah obligation, even if that obligation hinges upon the status of semikha.  Since today’s judges receive their authority from the earlier judges, who had his status, then perhaps they fulfill the mitzva on the same level of Torah obligation.

FRIDAY

            Earlier this week, we cited the Gemara’s remark in Masekhet Sanhedrin (7b), “Whoever appoints an improper judge is as if he planted an asheira tree in Israel.”  The Gemara here takes note of the fact that the Torah, in Parashat Shoftim, discusses the obligation to appoint judges (16:18-20) immediately before issuing the prohibition against planting an asheira tree (which was an object of pagan worship).  Based on this juxtaposition, the Gemara establishes a comparison of sorts between the appointment of an unqualified judge and the transgression of planting an asheira.  The Gemara then adds that if one appoints an ignorant judge despite the availability of a qualified scholar, then this is akin to planting an asheira tree next to the altar.

            The Rambam, in Hilkhot Sanhedrin (3:8), records a different version of this passage: “Whoever appoints over Israel an improper judge is as though he erected a monument… And in a place of Torah scholars, he is as though he planted an asheira…”

According to this version, appointing an unqualified judge is likened to erecting a forbidden monument – a prohibition that is also presented in this context, in Parashat Shoftim (16:22) – and if that judge is chosen in the presence of a competent scholar, then his appointment resembles the planting of an asheira.

            Netziv, in his Herchev Davar, suggests an insightful explanation for the Rambam’s version of this passage.  The difference between an asheira and a matzeiva (monument) lies in the fact that, as Rashi notes in his commentary, at one point it was permissible and even admirable to erect a matzeiva.  On a number of occasions we read of our patriarchs erecting monuments in God’s honor, which appears to have been an acceptable and even laudatory expression of devotion.  Once, however, matzeivot became associated with idolatry, they became forbidden.  The asheira tree, however, was always an article of pagan worship, and was thus never an acceptable mode of religious expression.

            Herein, Netziv suggests, lies the comparison between these transgressions and the appointment of an unqualified judge.  In the absence of competent halakhic scholars, it is indeed necessary to appoint second-rate judges.  The nation cannot properly function without a judicial system, and thus appointing judges with limited knowledge is preferable to having no judges at all.  For this reason, the Gemara (according to the Rambam’s version) compared the appointment of an unknowledgeable judge to erecting a matzeiva.  Such an appointment, like a matzeiva, is not categorically forbidden.  Assigning an ignorant judge in the presence of a qualified scholar, however, is more akin to planting an asheira, which has always been forbidden, under all circumstances.

            One broader message that perhaps emerges from Netziv’s discussion is not to settle on lower standards unnecessarily.  There certainly may have been times and settings when Jewish communities had to lower halakhic standards with regard to various issues, due to particular circumstances that created conditions that made widespread, strict observance difficult.  When, however, we are given the opportunity to pursue the highest standards, when “competent judges” are available, then we must not settle for anything less.  The lower standards that were acceptable under less ideal circumstances should not serve as an example for us to follow under more favorable conditions.

David Silverberg