Edited and adapted from Ari’s Grill & Torah on August 25, 2017.
The question has to be asked: Judaism—is it a monarchy? Is it a democracy? Is it a theocracy? What should the government of Judaism be? What is the goal?
In Hebrew we say there’s the matzui and then there’s the ratzui—what we have and what we want. So I’m talking about what we want. What is Judaism supposed to be? What kind of form of government are we supposed to have, and how is it supposed to work?
This week’s Parasha, Shoftim, opens with Shoftim v’shotrim—judges and policemen, if I were to translate it literally. It gives us a little bit of a heads-up about how government is supposed to be run according to Judaism.
We know that this advice was originally received from Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, who said to Moshe, “You can’t do this on your own. You need judges.” Moshe did appoint judges, and here we have what seems to be a system of government according to the Torah.
It starts out very clearly:
“Shoftim v’shotrim titen lecha b’chol she’arecha.”
There should be judges and police in all the gates of the cities.
“Asher Anochi noten lecha”—in the land that HaKadosh Baruch Hu is giving to you, talking about the Land of Israel. “Lishvatecha”—for every tribe. “V’shaftu et ha’am mishpat tzedek”—and they should judge the nation with justice.
So it seems like the Torah is talking about a judicial system somewhat like what we have today. You have judges, you have those responsible for the law, and you have policemen who uphold the law.
In fact, it goes further. There is a hierarchy of courts. It says that if you don’t know what to do:
“Ki yipalei mimcha davar lamishpat”—you cannot understand the answer to the court case. Someone comes before the court and you don’t know what to do.
“Bein dam l’dam”—even if it’s a court case involving life and death.
“Bein din l’din”—even if it has to do with money matters.
“Bein nega l’nega”—if it has to do with what is happening with the body.
“Divrei rivot bish’arecha”—different arguments in your city, in your gates.
“V’kamta v’alita el hamakom asher yivchar Hashem Elokecha bo.”
Go up to the place that God chooses. We’re talking, obviously, about Yerushalayim, where the Sanhedrin is sitting.
So if you can’t figure it out in your local courts, you go up to the Supreme Court. Where was the Supreme Court? In Jerusalem, in the Sanhedrin, in the Great Court in Jerusalem.
At first, then, the judicial system set up by the Torah seems somewhat like what we know today. But not exactly.
The Parasha begins by telling us that there should be judges and policemen, and then gives several laws about how to deal with court cases.
It says, “Lo tateh mishpat”—you can’t be biased in your court cases. “Lo takir panim”—you can’t recognize the people who are in front of you. If you’re a judge and you recognize someone in a way that will bias you, you cannot judge that case.
“Lo tikach shochad”—you can’t take bribes. “Ki hashochad ye’aver einei chachamim”—because bribery will blind even the wisest of people.
Notice that it doesn’t say bribery turns wise people into evil people. It says bribery blinds the wise.
A wise person is not merely someone intelligent. He is someone capable of looking at truth and saying, “I am going to fight for this truth.” If he is a judge, he is going to give the verdict based on truth.
Bribery blinds that person. Even though he may be wise and may know the answer, the bribe can distort what he sees. Even if he does not intentionally pervert justice, the Torah warns that bribery can cause him to do exactly that.
And then it says:
“Tzedek, tzedek tirdof.”
Justice, justice—you shall pursue.
Why?
“Lema’an tichyeh”—so that you may live.
“V’yarashta et ha’aretz”—and you will inherit the Land of Israel.
“Asher Hashem Elokecha noten lach.”
Your courts have to be built on justice. It says it twice: Tzedek, tzedek tirdof. Justice, justice—run after justice.
And the Torah says that by doing this, you will live and inherit the land God gives you.
So far, so good. You have a society built upon certain morals, and if you uphold those morals, you have a functioning society.
Then something strange happens.
The pesukim say:
“Lo tita lecha asherah.”
One shall not plant an asherah. An asherah was associated with idol worship.
The Torah says not to plant these trees near the altar: “Lo tita lecha asherah kol etz etzel mizbach Hashem Elokecha.”
Apparently, idol worshipers used trees as part of their worship, and the Torah therefore says that trees should not be planted around the altar. During the time of the Temple, there were no trees around the Temple altar for this reason.
But why is this here?
We were just talking about judges, policemen, courts, bias and bribery. Suddenly the Torah begins discussing trees associated with idol worship.
Then it says:
“Lo takim lecha matzevah.”
You should not erect a matzevah, a monument or structure associated with this kind of worship.
Why?
“Asher sanei Hashem Elokecha”—because God hates it.
Again, the question is obvious. Why is this coming in a Parasha where we are talking about the judicial system?
The judicial system seems human. It is talking about judges, police and government. Then suddenly it jumps to laws about trees and monuments used for idol worship.
What does that have to do with the judicial system?
And it doesn’t stop there.
The Torah says:
“Lo tizbach laHashem Elokecha shor vaseh asher yihyeh vo mum.”
You shall not offer to God an animal that is imperfect.
“Kol davar ra”—anything bad.
“Ki to’avat Hashem Elokecha hu”—because it is an abomination to God.
Once again, what is this doing here? What do sacrifices have to do with the judicial system or with setting up a government?
It seems almost to be the opposite subject entirely. We’re talking about government, and suddenly we’re discussing sacrifices, trees and idol worship. What does one have to do with the other?
The Torah then continues and discusses a man or woman who goes against the covenant of God:
“Vayelech vaya’avod elohim acheirim vayishtachu lahem”—and they go and worship other gods.
“O layare’ach”—or the moon.
“O l’chol tzva hashamayim”—or the stars, whatever is in the heavens.
“Asher lo tziviti”—anything God did not command us to worship.
Someone tells you that this person is doing such a thing, and the Torah says:
“V’darashta heitev”—investigate it carefully.
If you discover that it is true, the person is brought to the gates of the city and punished.
Again, we’re not discussing here the case of idol worship itself. The question is why this subject is here.
When I need a judge because I’m suing someone or someone is suing me, I need the judge to look at the evidence and come to a conclusion about the money or the damages.
But here we’re talking about idol worship.
What does this have to do with setting up a government or judicial system?
Then, almost as though nothing happened, the Torah returns to the courts.
A case comes before the civil court in whatever city you live in, and the judges don’t know the answer. This person is suing that person, the judges hear the case, but they don’t know the Jewish law.
What do you do?
The Torah says you bring the case to the place God commanded—to Yerushalayim, to the Sanhedrin. In Moshe’s time, there were smaller courts and larger courts, and eventually a difficult case could reach Moshe.
They go up the ladder.
But this is not going up the ladder because someone doesn’t like the verdict. It is going up the ladder because the judges themselves don’t know the answer. They don’t know the Jewish law, so the case goes to the next level, and then the next, until it reaches those who know how Torah law applies.
Now we come to a very important point.
Who are these judges, and what are they basing their judgments on?
You have judges in American courts today. You have judges in European courts. They hear the testimony from both sides, and at the end of the day they have to make a decision.
What are those decisions based upon?
They are based on the laws of the country in which they live.
Judges in America have to pass judgment according to the laws of the United States. Judges in France have to pass judgment according to the laws of France, and so on.
Judaism says something different and very important.
You come to the judge:
“V’darashta v’higidu lecha et dvar hamishpat.”
You bring him the case, and he gives you the judgment.
Then it says:
“V’asita al pi hadavar asher yagidu lecha min hamakom hahu.”
You must do what that court tells you.
Why? Is it simply because the judges have greater power? Is it because society would collapse into anarchy if nobody listened to the courts?
The Torah continues:
“V’shamarta la’asot k’chol asher yorucha.”
You must observe what they instruct you to do.
But what are those judgments based upon?
“Al pi haTorah”—based on the Torah.
What the judges command is not supposed to be based on their personal ideas, their ideology, their politics or the political fashion of the time. It is based on Torah.
That is the key.
The Torah is not describing a system in which a right-wing government comes in and appoints judges who rule according to one political ideology, and then a left-wing government comes in and appoints judges who rule according to another.
The reason you are required to listen to the judges according to the Torah is because those judges are supposed to be passing judgment based on Torah law.
The Torah even gives an extremely severe punishment to someone who deliberately rebels against the authorized court.
Why such severity?
Because this is not ultimately about courts.
It is about theocracy.
It is about the word of the Torah. It is about the word of HaKadosh Baruch Hu.
When we define morality in Judaism, we don’t define it according to where society happens to be at a particular moment. We don’t define morality by what is comfortable, and we don’t define it by what politicians happen to be saying today.
We define morality by the Torah.
There is no morality without Torah.
That does not mean that someone who doesn’t keep Torah cannot behave morally. Not at all. There are societies whose laws parallel basic Torah values. “Thou shall not steal. Thou shall not kill.” Wonderful.
The problem arises when society takes a right turn or a left turn away from Torah morality.
What do we do then?
We have to stick to Torah.
If society says something is acceptable that the Torah says is immoral, it doesn’t matter how popular that position becomes or how much pressure is placed upon me. I am not going to replace a morality based upon something objective with a morality based upon what is popular or comfortable at a particular moment.
They can say, “If you don’t accept this, you’re primitive.”
Fine. I’ll be primitive.
But now we have another interesting question. How do judges actually decide cases in Judaism?
They decide by majority.
Depending on the court, you can have three judges, 23 judges or the Great Sanhedrin of 71 judges. If the decision is split, you follow the majority.
That’s democracy, isn’t it?
Yes—but democracy is not defining morality.
All of those judges are operating within the same moral framework. If they disagree about how the law applies in a particular case, they decide through a majority. They are not voting to rewrite morality itself.
Democracy in Judaism does not change morality. Democracy is used to apply and strengthen a morality that already exists.
Then the Torah introduces another form of government: monarchy.
It says that when you come into the Land of Israel, inherit it and settle it, you may say:
“Put on us a king like all the nations.”
What does that mean?
We know there is kingship in Judaism. We know David HaMelech, King David. We know that Moshiach is going to come from King David. We know that Jewish kingship is connected to the tribe of Yehuda.
The concept of a king itself comes from the Torah.
Yet we also know that when Bnei Yisrael asked for a king, there was something negative about their request.
Why?
Because of the extra words:
“Put on us a king, k’chol hagoyim asher s’vivotenu”—like all the nations that surround us.
Bnei Yisrael saw Egypt with Pharaoh. They saw one nation with a king and another nation with a king, and they said, “We want a king too.”
They missed the point.
That is not what a Jewish king is supposed to be.
Bring it down to our level. What is a president today?
Whether it is Trump, Obama, Clinton—it doesn’t matter. A president is not inherently a moral authority. We are not choosing someone to define morality. We are choosing someone to govern the country.
He may personally be a moral person, but the office itself does not define morality.
So the sin of Bnei Yisrael was not simply asking for a king. It was asking for a king “like all the nations.”
Let’s look instead at what the Torah says a Jewish king is supposed to be.
First of all, he has limitations.
He cannot have too many horses. He cannot have too many wives. He cannot accumulate excessive gold.
Those three restrictions alone are striking when compared with the way kings and powerful leaders throughout history have tended to behave. Even religious leaders can sometimes become very impressed with themselves, surrounding themselves with wealth and honor.
The Torah goes in the opposite direction.
What is a king yes supposed to do?
When he sits on his throne:
“V’chatav lo et mishneh haTorah hazot al sefer milifnei hakohanim halevi’im.”
He must write a Sefer Torah.
“V’hayta imo”—it should constantly be with him.
“V’kara vo kol yemei chayav”—and he must read from it and learn from it all the days of his life.
Why?
“Lema’an yilmad l’yirah et Hashem Elokav”—so that he will learn to have awe and fear of God.
His God.
That is critical.
It is very easy for a person who says, “I am king,” eventually to begin acting as though he himself is the highest authority.
The Torah says no.
The king has a God.
David HaMelech has a God. Shlomo HaMelech has a God. The king must constantly carry Torah with him so that he remembers that there is an authority above him.
“Lishmor et kol divrei haTorah hazot”—he must keep the entire Torah.
“V’et hachukim ha’eleh la’asotam”—he must observe the laws and perform them.
A king is not free to say, “I’m king. I can do what I want.”
That might describe many kings throughout history. It does not describe kingship according to Judaism.
And why does he have to live this way?
“L’vilti rum levavo me’echav.”
So that his heart will not become exalted above his brothers.
The king is not inherently more valuable than the rest of Am Yisrael. He is a person.
He may not decide that he is more important than the commandments God gave him. He does not overtake the Torah.
Nobody overtakes the Torah.
Then the Torah says that if he follows these rules, his kingdom can endure—he and his children among the nation of Israel.
So the monarchy described by the Torah is very different from the monarchies people generally imagine.
Yes, there is a king, but the emphasis is not on his wealth, his status or his grandeur. In fact, the Torah spends a great deal of effort limiting those things.
Instead, the king must carry Torah with him. He must remain humble. He must remember God. He must obey the law.
So where does that leave us?
We began with Shoftim v’shotrim—judges and police. There is something democratic there. We have Torah as the ultimate source of law—that is theocracy. And then we have the king—the monarchy.
Which one is Judaism?
I think the key is that there is the vessel, and there is what is inside the vessel.
There is a famous story about a rabbi who was not exactly the best-looking man. One of the Roman princesses insulted him over his appearance.
The rabbi later used the king’s wine to teach her a lesson. When the wine needed new containers, he instructed that it be placed in beautiful golden vessels. The wine spoiled.
When the king demanded to know why the rabbi had done this, the rabbi explained that he wanted to teach the princess that something precious does not depend upon the beauty of the vessel that contains it.
The king’s wine is valuable because of what is inside.
The vessel is secondary.
That is the point here as well.
Yes, there is a king. Yes, there is theocracy. Yes, there are judges and policemen. Outwardly, it can sound like a regular society.
But there is one crucial detail that differentiates the Torah’s system from every other system:
Everyone in the hierarchy of government—the king, the judges, the policemen—must rule according to the Torah.
There is no value in having a king who does not rule according to the Torah. There is no value in having judges and policemen who are not ruling according to the morality stated by the Torah.
The system itself is not holy simply because of the name we give it.
Democracy is not automatically holy either.
History proves that.
Hitler originally rose through a democratic political system. That alone should demonstrate that democracy cannot itself define what is moral.
It depends what you do with democracy.
If a society democratically votes to remove morality, that vote does not suddenly make immorality moral. If people democratically vote to persecute or kill people because of their religion, the fact that the decision was democratic does not make it right.
You cannot tell me, “It was democracy, so you have to accept it.”
No.
When morality is on the line, democracy does not have the final word.
You will never convince me to behave immorally simply because immoral behavior has been democratically approved.
That is not what the Torah says.
Democracy is a tool to uphold morality. It is not a tool to define morality.
Let me say that again: Democracy is a tool to uphold morality. Democracy is not a tool to define morality.
And democracy certainly should never become a weapon used to destroy morality.
But for that statement to mean anything, you first need a definition of morality.
The Torah says that definition comes from Torah.
The rules that HaKadosh Baruch Hu gave us and the commandments that HaKadosh Baruch Hu gave us come first.
It doesn’t matter if the majority of the world decides that eating pig is perfectly acceptable. I, as a Jew, cannot do that.
It doesn’t matter if the whole world decides that kosher slaughter should be forbidden. Their democratic decision cannot override my Torah obligation.
If necessary, we’ll do it in secret. We’ll be criminals.
Because a democracy attempting to define morality according to subjective human opinion cannot override the objective morality of God.
Of course, within that moral framework there can still be democratic decisions. Judges can disagree. People can debate how Torah principles are to be applied. Majorities can decide between legitimate possibilities.
But democracy operates inside the moral framework. It does not create the framework.
The problem comes when a person defines morality according to the country or society in which he happens to live.
That is very dangerous.
We look back at people who lived in Germany between 1933 and 1945 and reject the excuse, “Well, I was just living in the country. Those were the laws.”
No excuse.
People have a responsibility to behave morally regardless of what society around them is saying.
But that becomes very difficult if you have no objective definition of morality in the first place.
So the Torah is saying something very clear.
You have to have judges. You have to have policemen. Yes, you can have a king. There can be democratic mechanisms, a theocratic foundation and a monarchy.
But the underlying thread through all of them—the thing that ties the entire system together and ensures that society remains moral—is that everyone must rule and decide according to the morality given to us by HaKadosh Baruch Hu through the Torah.
Without that, the positions themselves become meaningless.
The fact that someone calls himself a CEO means very little unless the business is actually going somewhere. The fact that someone is called president gives him a title, but the title alone does not tell us whether he is accomplishing anything worthwhile.
The same is true of the title “rabbi.”
If someone calls himself a rabbi but steals, the title itself is worthless. If someone calls himself a rabbi but goes against Jewish tradition, putting “Rabbi” before his name does not magically make his actions legitimate.
I say this to people all the time. I don’t use my rabbi title, by the way, for very good reasons. Someone can tell me, “Well, this is Rabbi so-and-so,” but the title itself does not impress me.
This week’s Parasha also speaks about a false prophet. A person can carry the title “prophet,” but if he contradicts the Torah, the title does not validate what he says.
The title before a person’s name means nothing unless his actions fulfill the title.
I’ll finish with one thought.
For those who don’t know, I studied martial arts for many years. I am a black belt, and I meet people who tell me, “Well, I’m a black belt too.”
I ask, “Really? How long have you been studying?”
And sometimes they answer, “Four years.”
It took me 17 years to get my black belt.
Again, the title doesn’t mean anything unless you have something under the belt.
I tell my students this all the time. They ask, “How long does it take to get a black belt?”
I tell them, “Thirty seconds. Go to the store and buy yourself a black belt. It’ll save you a lot of money and a lot of physical pain.”
But having the belt is not the point.
The king is not the point. The judges and police are not the point. The titles are not the point.
The Torah is the point.
Morality is the point.
If those positions are not being used in accordance with the Torah, then the positions themselves are worthless.
That is what the Torah is telling us.
So what is Judaism?
It is a theocratic democratic monarchy—but the Torah is what gives the entire system its meaning.
Wishing everyone a wonderful, wonderful weekend. God bless from the beautiful, stunning rolling hills of Judea, Israel. Shabbat shalom, everyone.
This is the level of editing I’d use for publication: recognizably Ari, but no longer recognizably a livestream transcript.