Justice and the Limits of Power

Shoftim, this week’s parasha, famously begins with the appointment of judges and officials:

“You shall appoint magistrates and officials for your tribes… and they shall govern the people with due justice. You shall not judge unfairly… You shall not take bribes… Justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may thrive and occupy the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” —Deuteronomy 16:18–20

“You shall appoint magistrates and officials for your tribes… and they shall govern the people with due justice. You shall not judge unfairly… You shall not take bribes… Justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may thrive and occupy the land that the Lord your God is giving you.” —Deuteronomy 16:18–20

The parasha later turns to kingship. If the Israelites decide to appoint a king, they may do so—but his authority is carefully restricted. He must not accumulate horses, wives, or excessive wealth, and he must keep a copy of the Torah beside him and read it throughout his life. Most importantly, “he will not act haughtily toward his fellows or deviate from the Instruction to the right or to the left” (Deut. 17:14–20).

The king, therefore, is not above the law. His military power, wealth, and personal authority are limited. He is required to remain subject to Torah. Just as importantly, the king does not control the justice system. The parasha imagines a separation between political and judicial authority—something that, at least in principle, resembles modern systems of checks and balances.

Kings are meant to serve the people, not the other way around.

I find myself thinking about the state of the two democratic nations of which I am a citizen, the United States and Israel. In both, democracy seems increasingly fragile, while justice is sometimes treated as an obstacle by those determined to preserve power.

“Justice, justice shall you pursue” is not merely an ancient ideal. It is a warning. When leaders act with impunity, institutions are weakened, and citizens lose faith in accountability, people begin to believe that they too may disregard the law. Government without justice is dangerous—not only to its immediate victims, but also because it teaches society that power, rather than law, determines what is right.

The Haftarah as a Bridge

The haftarah is generally chosen either because it resembles the weekly parasha or because the calendar gives it particular significance. This is especially evident in the haftarot surrounding Tisha B’Av. Before the Ninth of Av, we read three haftarot of calamity and warning; afterward come seven haftarot of consolation.

The seven haftarot of consolation frequently describe the relationship between God and Israel through the imagery of marriage. After a relationship in which God’s anger nearly destroys Israel, God promises to comfort the people and restore the relationship. Israel is expected to acknowledge its failures and assume responsibility for them.

This imagery is particularly meaningful because the period from Tisha B’Av through Elul is traditionally associated with marriage. During the Three Weeks preceding Tisha B’Av, Jewish weddings were traditionally avoided. From the middle of Av and throughout Elul, however, marriage becomes a prominent theme.

The Hebrew letters of Elul—א ל ו ל—are traditionally connected with the verse from Shir ha-Shirim:

אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי לִי Ani le-dodi ve-dodi li “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”

אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי לִי Ani le-dodi ve-dodi li “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”

Because the haftarot also portray God and Israel as bride and groom, the imagery has often been associated with human marriage.

For me, this connection has special meaning this year. My grandniece—the........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)