“We Will Do and We Will Hear”: Judgment, Humility, and Spiritual Wholeness in Parashat Mishpatim

Parashat Mishpatim opens with the command (Shemot 21:1): “These are the laws that you shall set before them.”

The previous portion, Parashat Yitro, ends with the command (Shemot 20:22–23): “If you make Me an altar of stones, you shall not build it of hewn stones, for if you lift your sword upon it you will profane it. And you shall not go up by steps onto My altar, so that your nakedness will not be exposed upon it.”

“Be Deliberate in Judgment”

Chazal interpret the proximity of the altar laws to the obligation to judge the people (Sanhedrin 7b): “Bar Kappara taught: From where do we learn the obligation, ‘Be deliberate in judgment’? For it is said, ‘You shall not go up by steps,’ and immediately afterward it says, ‘These are the laws…’”

Rashi explains: just as one must not ascend the altar by “steps,” meaning by a climb that enables one to go up forcefully and in haste, so too a judge must be deliberate in judgment, “accustomed to waiting, in order to examine a matter well before deciding it.”

What is the point? It is obvious that a judge may not issue a ruling without careful analysis. It is also clear that a judge must allow time for the facts and arguments to settle and mature in his mind. These are self-evident.

The novelty here, is that even after a judge feels he has fully exhausted the analysis, he must still remain measured and restrained in delivering the final ruling. Why, and how does that fit with the obligation not to prolong justice and cause unnecessary delay?

The Prohibition of Judicial Arrogance

Chazal there also derive from the same juxtaposition another principle: “that a judge should not step over the heads of the holy people.”

Just as a kohen is forbidden to assert himself arrogantly when ascending to serve on the altar, so too a judge is forbidden to behave with arrogance when coming to judge the people.

Yet this too requires explanation. While “Be deliberate in judgment” speaks to the core of judicial decision-making, the prohibition of arrogance seems like a general moral obligation that applies to anyone with something to take pride in. Why is it emphasized specifically in the context of “These are the laws that you shall set before them”? Does a judge’s arrogance damage the very act of judging?

A Human Being Cannot Judge Without a Divine Mission

The Maharal, in Netivot Olam (Netiv HaDin, ch. 1), explains that when administering justice, there is a special obligation not to reach quick conclusions, because “the judgment belongs to God, not to man.”

Rabbi Yitzchak Hutner, in Pachad Yitzchak (Shavuot, ch. 44), clarifies the Maharal’s meaning: judgment, by its very nature, is not truly “in the hands” of man, because only the Judge of all the earth, the One who possesses all powers, can judge a person. As the verse says (Devarim 1:17): “For the judgment is God’s.” What is a human being, that he should judge his fellow human being?

A person does not possess moral authority to stand “above” another and judge him, because he is not inherently superior; he too is subject to weakness and trials he may not have overcome. Therefore, when God commands (Devarim 1:16): “Hear between your brothers, and judge righteously…” the verse immediately adds: “For the judgment is God’s.” In other words: the entire reality of a human judge exists only as a divine appointment from the true Owner of judgment, the Judge of all the earth, who commanded us to establish courts.

That is why Yehoshafat told the judges he appointed (Chronicles II, 19:6): “See what you are doing, for you judge not for man, but for God—and He is with you in the matter of judgment.”

Accordingly, when we are commanded to “walk in God’s ways” and resemble Him, that resemblance is expressed primarily in acts of kindness, not in acts of judgment — because a human being does not share a divine attribute that would authorize him to judge by virtue of “being like God.” A messenger does not fulfill his mission by “resembling” the One who sent him; rather, he draws his power from the appointment itself.

A Human Being Cannot Judge on His Own Because He Cannot Truly See

The Maharal adds that man cannot judge not only because he lacks moral authority, but also because he lacks the actual ability to reach the full truth of events he did not personally witness.

The Talmud teaches (Pesachim 54b) that there are things concealed from human beings, including “the depth of judgment,” and that no person truly knows what is in another’s heart.

The Maharal explains: one should not assume he can reach the full depths of justice, because there are judgments whose depth a human being cannot penetrate. That is precisely why judgment “belongs to God” — for the depth of judgment is hidden from man.

A person can be firm and decisive in matters his intellect can fully grasp. But in something navigated in partial darkness, he must proceed with humility, caution, and restraint.

A judge must be deliberate precisely because he cannot truly see the entire reality and cannot reach the depth of judgment. Therefore, says the Maharal, one who rushes to rule damages the judgment, because judgment is not fundamentally “of man.”

Altar Service and Judgment: A Deep Parallel

Now the proximity between the altar and the laws of judgment becomes profound. The altar is a place of serving God, and judgment is a place where the judge functions as a divine emissary.

Just as service at the altar is performed according to a fixed, prescribed order, so too judgment must be performed according to a fixed, prescribed order. In private business, a person might rely on himself and act quickly. But when approaching the altar — and when approaching the courtroom, one must come with restraint and with awareness of a higher framework.

True, a judge must avoid unnecessary delay and prevent inui din (prolonging justice). But he cannot be reckless in thinking or aggressive in producing absolute certainty. He must possess the humility and measured pace of someone who recognizes his human limitation: he does not truly know what occurred between the parties, and he cannot always reach the full truth. His authority stems only from divine appointment.

The Maharal concludes sharply: “Judgment is not merely intellectual… the intellect is acquired through pausing, waiting, and restraint; one who rushes to rule is foolish and coarse-spirited.”

One Who Knows He Is Only a Messenger Does Not Become Proud

This also explains the second teaching of the prohibition of judicial arrogance. Arrogance is destructive in any person, but it is especially destructive in a judge, because it strikes at the heart of the act of judging.

Arrogance implies the judge believes he is the one determining fates, that the authority and discretion are “his.” But this is an illusion. The judge has only what his eyes can see, and his eyes did not see what actually happened. The true judgment belongs to God alone.

God entrusted human courts with judgment in order for society to function, but only as a divine mission. So what is there for the messenger to be proud of? One who owns nothing of his own cannot boast, just as a bank clerk is not proud of the millions in the vault entrusted to him; they are not his.

“A Crude Step” in Both Altar and Courtroom

Chazal call a quick stride a “coarse step”. The term “coarseness of spirit” (gasut haruach) refers to arrogance. Hastiness and arrogance often go together, because only someone convinced he has fully “gotten to the bottom of it” feels entitled to be swift and final.

Deliberation and caution belong to the humble person, who knows he may not be seeing clearly. The Talmud even states (Berachot 43b) that “a coarse step takes away one five-hundredth of a person’s eyesight.” Clear sight and rushing are opposites: the person who runs and rushes loses clarity of vision.

Further, the judge’s inner humility is essential because arrogance blinds. Just as rushing undermines clear thinking, arrogance undermines clear thinking as well.

Therefore, says the Maharal, beyond the general prohibition of arrogance, there is a special obligation for a judge to be humble, as arrogance removes a person from the realm of wisdom. He even argues that just as it is forbidden to appoint an ignoramus as a judge, so too it is forbidden to appoint a judge who is arrogant, because such a person does not truly possess wisdom.

A human being has neither moral superiority nor full access to truth that would justify judging another by “his own power.” “The judgment is God’s.” The judge carries out a divine mission.

The judge must therefore be deliberate, and the core trait required of him is humility.

“We Will Do and We Will Hear”

Regarding the acceptance of the Torah, Parashat Mishpatim states (Shemot 24:7): “He took the Book of the Covenant and read it in the ears of the people, and they said: ‘All that God has spoken we will do and we will hear.’”

The sequence of doing before hearing, seems difficult: how can one perform commandments without knowing their content and details? How can someone who does not know Shabbat laws avoid violating Shabbat, or someone who does not know monetary laws avoid transgressing them? As Pirkei Avot says (2:5): “An ignoramus cannot be truly God-fearing, and an unlearned person cannot be pious.” How can “we will do” precede “we will hear”?

The “Secret” Used by the Ministering Angels

Because of this difficulty, some of the early commentators interpret the verse in a way that does not actually place action before understanding.

• Rashbam explains that “we will do” refers to what has already been commanded up to now, while “we will hear” is acceptance of what will be commanded from here on.

• Ibn Ezra explains that “we will do” refers to positive commandments and “we will hear” to prohibitions; and he also offers that “we will do” refers to commandments that are self-evident, while “we will hear” refers to those needing explicit command.

Yet Chazal explicitly understood this as genuine precedence of doing before hearing, and praised it highly.

The Talmud says (Shabbat 88a): when Israel preceded “we will do” to “we will hear,” a heavenly voice declared: “Who revealed to My children this secret that the ministering angels use?” as it is written (Tehillim 103:20): “…mighty in strength, who do His word, to hear the voice of His word.” First “do,” then “hear.”

What is this “secret”? And how can a human being resemble an angel?

The Talmud continues that when Israel said “we will do and we will hear,” angels came and placed two crowns on each person — one for “we will do” and one for “we will hear.” After the sin of the Golden Calf, destructive angels removed them. Rabbi Yochanan says Moshe took them, and Reish Lakish says God will return them in the future, as the verse says (Yeshayahu 35:10): “The redeemed of God shall return… everlasting joy upon their heads.”

This raises many questions: What do the crowns represent? Why were they removed? Why did Moshe receive them? What does their return have to do with redemption and Zion?

Tosafot ask: why were the crowns placed by 600,000 angels, but removed by 1,200,000 angels? Isn’t the measure of good greater than the measure of punishment? Tosafot answer: one good angel could place two crowns, but the destructive angel lacked the power to do so.

What does that mean?

Why the Nations Declined the Torah

A related Midrash describes how God offered the Torah to the nations, and each asked, “What is written in it?” When they heard basic prohibitions such as murder, theft, or adultery, they refused — claiming their ancestral tradition runs in the opposite direction.

That answer however, seems absurd: does a “family tradition” of wrongdoing override moral obligation?

“We Will Hear” as Worldview, “We Will Do” as Execution

The Maharal explains all this in a striking way.

Many people live with a “we will hear” worldview of values, ideals, and alongside it, a “we will do” — their actual behavior. Often, these two exist on opposite poles. A person may believe in one set of morals, and yet in practice live differently. He becomes internally divided between ideals and impulses, between what he wants to be and what he actually does. Frequently, a person’s truest desire becomes clear only after the act, when conscience says: “Good that you did that,” or “Why did you do that?”

Fortunate is the person whose “doing” does not contradict his “hearing,” whose actions align with his deeper moral truth.

A ministering angel has no independent agenda. Therefore there is perfect harmony between “doing” and “hearing”: what the angel does fully matches the will of its Creator.

That is the angels’ “secret.” And human beings can approach it too, if they live as people of mission, whose actions faithfully align with their higher moral calling.

The Nations’ Answer, Reconsidered

The nations were essentially saying: in our reality, there is an ingrained contradiction between desire and action. Our natural tendencies, formed over generations, will clash with these demands. Accepting moral commitments that oppose our nature will not last; we will eventually revert.

Israel, however, could say “we will do and we will hear,” because their inherited spiritual disposition, shaped by the tradition of the Patriarchs, does not fundamentally clash with the Torah. Therefore, they could aspire to a life where action and inner truth are not perpetually at war.

That level makes Torah acceptance possible, and warrants “crowns” of wholeness and self-realization.

Why One Angel Could Place Two Crowns

A core principle is that one angel does not perform two separate missions. When Israel was whole — when “we will do” and “we will hear” formed one unified reality, one angel could place two crowns, because it was essentially one mission.

After the Golden Calf, the unity fractured; “doing” and “hearing” separated. Now each crown represented something distinct, so it required two angels to remove them.

After the Golden Calf, self-driven desire re-entered Israel, resembling the human state after the primordial sin. Only Moshe retained radiance — the sign of inner wholeness, where “doing” and “hearing” remain aligned.

In the future, especially in Eretz Yisrael, the verse will be fulfilled: “The redeemed of God shall return… everlasting joy upon their heads.” The land’s spiritual capacity will enable a life of integration, where even earthly action becomes a mitzvah, and there is no contradiction between “we will do” and “we will hear.”

Living a Harmonious Life

A person is called to live a harmonious life in which his practical actions align with his worldview and inner truth.

That harmony is built by striving for genuine self-realization: resisting impulses that do not reflect one’s true moral level, and choosing actions that match the voice of conscience that speaks after the act.

Such a life prevents inner contradiction between “we will do” and “we will hear” and ultimately leads to wholeness.

From the book “In the Light of the Maharal on Parashah and Moed,” by attorney Avraham Weinrot.