Doing Things Right: Shoftim

Doing Things Right

D’var Torah for Parashat Shoftim

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Dedicated to the memory of David Passer, z”l

It was a vile world of ignorance and superstition, of meaningless magical incantations addressed to gods that thrived on lust and children’s blood.  Every tree, every crag in the rock was a place where malicious spirits dwelled, covetously waiting for their prize and prey.  The spirits of dead people haunted every field, every forest and ruin, and charlatan necromancers pretended to speak to them for you.

Rudimentary justice was already in place, but fair judges were hard to come by.  Often enough the king or tribal head sat in judgment, and anybody close enough or rich enough had the better chance of getting the judge’s ear.  The basic rules by which people lived back then were, as you do so it shall be done unto you.  A leg for a leg, an eye for an eye.  Witnesses were often not necessary; hearsay was enough.

But this world, this society, this culture, was about to be turned on its head. 

The Israelites were coming.

This week’s Torah portion, Shoftim (“Judges,” Deuteronomy 16:18—21:9) does more than give us a list of laws.  It sets up a new model, a different world, one governed by rules of fairness and justice.  Courts of law, judges and marshals, depositions and witnesses are at the foundation and core of this system. The instruction tzedek tzedek tirdof (“Justice, justice shall you pursue,” Deut. 16:20) has a two-fold repetition of the word “justice.”  The reason, say the rabbis, is that one should see the first as a noun and the second as a verb.  Justice is your goal; justice is the process you follow to reach that goal.  That is the entirety of this portion; the rest, as they say, is commentary.

The system of justice which Moses conjures for the Israelites extends from the personal to the national.  Personal behavior as well as societal behavior, teaches the Torah, should be governed by rules of fairness and justice, of consideration for one’s fellow human being.  Our behavior must rely more on focus, attention and intent than on passion, emotion and greed.

Even beyond this, however, lies another concept:  education.  A nation cannot live by separate constitutions.  The same law must apply everywhere, from one end of the land to the other.  To that end, Moses commands that, as Israel’s territory expands, “cities of refuge” must be built, regional and appellate courts, as it were.  Justice is universal, not particular to just one place or another.  One law for one people, under one God.

The king, of course, is the supreme court.  But even the king must be bound by the law (a revolutionary idea in those days).  In fact, two copies of the Torah with all its commandments, rulings and judgments must always be nearby.  One copy is to be kept safe in the Temple.  The other is to be the reference codex, the one that the king must study and rely upon in pronouncing fair verdicts.

It’s an ideal picture Moses paints for his people just a short time before they enter the Promised Land.  Moses is realistic.  He knows that it will take time to make this ideal become reality.  And so rather than make this an impossible ideal, Moses makes it a personal project, one that must begin with me and you even before it expands to include a whole nation.

Even then it isn’t easy.  There are too many shortcuts we can take, too many details we can overlook.  Temptations lie at every turn, and sometimes, thinking ourselves unseen, unobserved, we give in…

In the end, it isn’t big, terrible crimes we stand accused of; it’s the little misdeeds, the minor infractions and oversights.

Ultimately, what this portion wants each of us to do is to become a functioning part of a system of justice.  Far from letting ourselves be manipulated by forces larger than us—be they natural or supernatural—we can actually become involved as partners in a greater collective, each of us adding to the wellbeing of the whole.  Rather than being slave to the system, we become a living contributor to it.

It’s quite a responsibility, but one that we can actually accomplish and achieve if we try hard enough.  One step at a time, one day at a time, one kind deed at a time.

My friend David Passer was like that.

I met David when I became a student at the University of Cincinnati.  I was there for a Master of Music program, and I found housing at Hebrew Union College, just down the street from UC.  David was the first friend I made.  Actually, he befriended me.

David immediately introduced me to his family and opened his home to me.  Our friendship grew and deepened through the years.  David was a chuppa pole bearer when I married my wife, Sally, and he remained a staunch friend through the years. 

David had a huge circle of friends, each of whom could consider himself or herself David’s best friend.  That was David’s way, and he came by it honestly, by simply being there, by being attentive and supportive.

David then moved to Boston and Sally and I moved to Houston, Texas.  But a few years later, when Sally was offered a position at the Harvard Hillel, we got back together again, our friendship as intact as ever.  It was David, in fact, who connected me with the rabbis at Temple Israel in Boston, and the road from there to my own ordination as rabbi is a direct route.

David was as generous with his means as he was with his time and heart.  He was on the Board of Directors of Temple Israel; he was involved with Keshet, the national grassroots organization that works for the full equality and inclusion of LGBT Jews in Jewish life.  David was an avid reader and could always recommend a book to you; no genre was foreign to him.  He had a subscription to the Boston Symphony Orchestra and was a supporter of the Boston Chamber Music Society.  From one of his earliest positions at the Fenway Community Health Center, David rose to become the Chief Operations Officer at the Rashi School and then the Executive Director of Temple Shir Tikva in Wayland, MA.

But it wasn’t only due to his administrative abilities—awesome as they were! —that David was so treasured.  It was for his heart, as well as for his affinity for doing things the right way.  You could count on that, as you could also count on his always being there for you when you needed him.

“How would David do it?” became a familiar line among many of us.  Because his was the right way of doing things.  You could count on it to be fair, considerate, even-handed, kind and generous.

David found peace and harmony.  Actually, no, he created peace and harmony.  From the everyday relationships with his long term best friend, partner and husband, Marc, as well as with the rest of his family; from the friendships he cultivated and thrived on; from the places where he worked, where he worshipped, and found recreation; on to the organizations where David served and volunteered—wherever David was involved, there you could find a well-balanced system.  It wasn’t a coincidence.  David fully embodied the hope Moses presented to the People of Israel thousands of years ago:  Do things right, and the world around you will be right.

David’s escape was a cabin by a lake in Belgrade, Maine.  There, whether in a kayak or just sitting on a pier gazing at a burning sunset or at glowing constellations in the nighttime sky, David became part of the universe around him.  That’s where he found consolation, inspiration, love and peace.  Having had a hand in making it so, David is now truly a part of the better world he had helped create.

Though not involved in the legal profession, David was the kind of judge that Moses had in mind:  A true teacher, leader and friend.

May his memory be a blessing.

© 2014 by Boaz D. Heilman