Rabbi Charles P. Sherman
Mindy Coretz Bat Mitzvah
Shabbat Shoftim
September 10, 2005
Needed for a New Year: More Public Defenders
According to many Jewish scholars, nothing in Judaism is ever accidental or coincidental. If you delve deeply enough into any matter you will find there is always a rhyme or reason for everything. For example, the sedra for this Shabbat is Shoftim; our lectionary is so arranged that every year Shoftim is read on the first Shabbat of Elul.
The Hebrew month of Elul precedes Rosh Hashanah. This is the time when we must begin the serious spiritual work of evaluating our deeds and acts, our very lives, as the Days of Judgement approach. This month, we Jews begin to prepare ourselves for the coming Holydays and the beginning of a new year. So what is the connection between the upcoming Holydays and this Torah portion – Shoftim?
Shoftim means "judges." The opening verse of this sedra reads: Shoftim v’shotrim tetayn l’cha b’chol sh’arecha – "You shall appoint judges and magistrates for yourself at all your gates." Since the Holydays are clearly a time when we all stand before God in judgement and seek God’s forgiveness, and our Torah portion speaks about judging, there is an obvious connection. But something is odd about that opening verse. "Judges and magistrates shall you set for yourself at all your gates." What is curious about this verse is that it is in the singular, not the plural. We should have expected the verse to read "judges and magistrates shall you set for yourselves," because this is a command which has been given to the entire community, not to a single individual. So why does our Torah say "judges and magistrates shall you set l’cha – for yourself"?
According to one interpretation, the Torah is written this way, in the singular – l’cha, yourself – in order to teach us the important ethical lesson that one should judge others the way one judges oneself. So how does one judge oneself? You know how – with understanding, with sympathy, with compassion, with leniency, with empathy. Isn’t that what we do? If we ourself do something wrong we take into account all the extenuating circumstances. We say, "yes, of course what I did – it was wrong. But I was upset at the time." Or, "someone made me very angry." Or, "I was feeling very hurt; I could not help myself."
When judging ourself, we take all the little factors and reasons into consideration which explain why we acted as we did. Yet, sadly, we rarely give that same benefit of understanding to others. But as the Holydays draw near, friends, when we will stand ourself before God in judgement and will ask for God’s forgiveness, we learn from this Torah portion that we must judge others by that same measure of understanding that we give ourself, and thus forgive them as well.
Recently I read a wonderful vignette by a colleague, Rabbi Aaron Rubinger, which I would like to share with you this morning. Rabbi Rubinger begins: "Did you know that my zayde, my maternal grandfather, was a great public defender? Yes. Although he never went to law school and never was in a court room – my zayde was a wonderful public defender because he always defended people – the people of his family, his synagogue, and his community."
For example, he defended my Aunt Dina. You see, my grandmother did not like my Aunt dina. Why? Because Dina wasn’t very religious and my grandparents were. And when my mother’s brother, Uncle Samuel, married my Aunt Dina, they didn’t make their home kosher. My grandmother was furious. And because of that, there were many fights between my Uncle Samuel and my grandmother.
But my grandfather defended my Aunt Dina. He would say to my grandmother. "Honey, you have to understand. Dina didn’t come from a religious home. She wasn’t raised that way. To us, of course, it’s important. But to her, this is all new. Don’t be so harsh. Give her some time. Maybe in a few years, she’ll realize that it’s not so difficult, or so expensive to keep kosher." That was my grandfather.
And he defended my Uncle Eli too. Now my Uncle Eli did keep kosher; in fact, he was a kosher butcher. He was married to my mother’s sister, Aunt Goldie. But my grandmother also wasn’t so crazy about my Uncle Eli. Why? Well, he wasn’t very educated. And he wasn’t so smart. And he talked a lot – well, not a lot – more like non-stop. And he got on my grandmother’s nerves.
But my grandfather would say: "You know what? OK, maybe he’s not so smart. But he’s kind. If people can’t afford to pay the full price of meat, he takes less. And maybe he talks a lot, but what he says isn’t mean. He’s a nice man. He’s an honest man. These things are far more important."
And, it wasn’t just family members that my grandfather would defend, but other people too. For example, I remember he always defended his rabbi. My grandfather was the Gabbai of his synagogue – some of you know that a Gabbai is kind of like the ritual director.
My grandfather’s synagogue was an Orthodox shul in San Diego. Like all synagogues – whether they are Conservative, or Orthodox, or Reform – some people like the rabbi and some people don’t. (Except here, of course, where everyone loves the Rabbi). In my grandfather’s synagogue some people thought the rabbi was good, and some people thought they could do better. But my grandfather would always defend the rabbi. "He’s a human being", my grandfather would say. "Don’t expect perfection. Not even Moses was perfect. The rabbi has an ill daughter. Have some rachmanus, some compassion, some understanding" he would tell people. That’s how my grandfather was. He was a great public defender. Always giving people the benefit of the doubt, always looking at the good side of an individual, never the bad. Friends, I believe we all would have liked to have known rabbi Rubinger’s zayde.
Our Torah portion for this Shabbat commands us to establish judges and magistrates to see that justice is carried out. But to tell you the truth, I really don’t believe we need more judges. You see, today everyone is a judge. We all judge one another. And too often we do so rather harshly, coldly, unsympathetically, often without knowing even half the facts. In the Temple, I regularly hear people judging one another. The kids make judgements about the old, while the elderly make judgements about the young.
Sometimes I hear older congregants complain about the behavior of children in the Temple – why can’t their parents control them better? Why are they dressed so slovenly, sloppily, inappropriately? Why don’t the parents make their kids sit with them at services? Why are the kids so irresponsible? – completely forgetting what it was like to be parents and having to raise young children.
And our younger people can be just as blind and insensitive to the challenges facing their seniors. Why do they have to be so set in their ways, so rigid? Why are they so unfriendly? – having no clue what it is like to live alone, to have your family thousands of miles away, to have outlived your spouse, to have physical ailments that come with advanced years.
So, you see, I don’t think we need more judges. We have more than enough judges to go around – of all ages. What we need are more public defenders, like Rabbi Rubinger’s zayde, people with understanding, sympathy, people who judge others the way they themself would want to be judged – with compassion, understanding, and kindness.
That is what the great Rabbi Levi Yitzchak meant when he interpreted words from today’s Torah portion which say "and they shall judge the people with mishpat tsedek – with righteous judgement. But Rabbi Levi Yitzchak said, don’t read righteous judgement; read instead, a judgement of charity, a judgement of kindness, so that she or he and all Israel will be judged innocent in the judgement on high. Following the Jewish mystical tradition, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak would emphasize that it is up to each Jew to set an example for God, so to speak. That is, it is up to each Jew to live so that God will be moved to act with merciful love – because that is the way God sees us Jews behaving. In other words, we can not expect God’s forgiveness if we do not practice forgiveness ourselves. We can not urge God to do that which we will not do.
This is the challenge posed by today’s Torah reading which always comes on the first Shabbat of the month of Elul, that special preparatory month before our Holydays, the Days of Awe, the Days of Judgement.
Like Rabbi Rubinger’s zayde; dear friends, let us open our hearts to understand and forgive one another so that God may forgive us and bless us in the coming year. Amen
I am indebted to Rabbi Aaron D. Rubinger for much of this message.
