Parashat Shoftim: Timeless Lessons on Self-Control, Humility, and Faith

When I was fourteen, I attended a lecture where the rabbi spoke passionately, raising his voice as he explained a verse from the Torah: "Judges and officers you shall appoint in all your gates that the Lord your God gives you."

He declared, "This means we must appoint judges and officers at the gates that God has given us. Look at your face — the eyes, ears, and mouth are the gateways of the body. We need judges and officers guarding those gates. We must pay attention to what we allow into our bodies and minds: what we eat, what we hear, what we watch, and also what we allow to come out through our speech."

I did not understand a single word.

There was an enormous gap between the everyday language of the religious world and the secular Israeli culture I knew. The constant movement between biblical verses, rabbinic teachings, and modern life left me completely confused. I also had no idea that nearly every Torah lecture carries a moral message — sometimes explicit, sometimes hidden between the lines, and that even when it is not stated outright, there is always a deeper purpose hovering above the discussion.

A woman sitting beside me quietly explained.

"The rabbi is taking the opening verse of this week's Torah portion, Parashat Shoftim: 'Judges and officers you shall appoint in all your gates.' What he's doing is giving a midrashic interpretation. The verse literally speaks about appointing real judges and officers. But the rabbi is treating the word gates as a metaphor for the openings of the human body. He's saying we need 'judges and officers' guarding those gates. For us, as teenagers, he's asking us to think carefully about what we let into our eyes through the content we watch, and what comes out of our mouths — whether our speech is kind or whether it includes gossip and negativity."

Every year, when I read the opening verse of Parashat Shoftim, I remember that moment —the sense of distance I felt from the Torah, and my longing for it to become more accessible and easier to understand.

The Cure for Pride

Pride is the greatest danger that accompanies success, influence, and leadership. 

History is filled with rulers who became intoxicated by power. Recognizing this, the Torah issues a striking warning to the Jewish king: "So that his heart will not become exalted above his brethren." (Deuteronomy 17:20)

This phrase has drawn the attention of many commentators because it identifies the king's greatest spiritual danger. Authority, prestige, success, and public recognition all carry a hidden risk. Power can corrupt. A leader may forget where he came from, forget that his abilities are gifts from God, and begin placing himself at the center of everything.

Rabbeinu Yonah explains: "By saying, 'that his heart will not become exalted above his brethren,' we are warned to remove pride from our hearts and not allow the greater person to elevate himself above the lesser."

This warning is not directed only at kings. Any one of us who receives a promotion, gains influence, or assumes a respected position can fall into the same trap. Whether it is a government official, a successful executive, or a well-known journalist, authority can easily become a test of character.

How does the Torah protect leaders from arrogance?

It places numerous safeguards around them, one of the most significant being a lifelong attachment to Torah. The king is commanded to write his own Torah scroll and study it every day: "It shall remain with him, and he shall read from it all the days of his life, so that he may learn to fear the Lord his God and carefully observe all the words of this Torah... so that his heart will not become exalted above his brethren."

Torah serves as the antidote to pride, constantly reminding a leader that true greatness begins with humility.

Repairing Our Inner Faults

When billions of people around the world watched a rare solar eclipse unfold live, the timing was remarkable, as it occurred just as the month of Elul began.

Elul is not concerned with the movements of the sun, moon, or distant planets. Its focus is something far more profound, on the inner world of the human being: our character, our speech, our relationships, and our spiritual growth.

The High Holidays do not arrive unexpectedly. Every year, God gives us an entire month to reflect, to grow, and, above all, to believe that change is possible.

We can repair our relationship with God, and we can repair our relationships with other people. Yet these inner transformations cannot be livestreamed. They are often more complex than the movements of the solar system itself.

The eclipse reminded me of a story about Rabbi Yosef Kahaneman.

Nearly fifty years ago, when someone excitedly told him that Neil Armstrong had reached the moon, Rabbi Kahaneman opened the curtains, pointed toward the people walking outside, and said: "Man has reached the moon, but man still has not reached his fellow man."

Rediscovering Simplicity

Would you consider it a compliment if someone described you as simple or innocent?

Probably not.

At a job interview or when asking about a potential marriage match, few people would enthusiastically say, "You should meet him — he's wonderfully innocent!"

Yet Parashat Shoftim contains one of the Torah's most beautiful instructions: "Be wholehearted with the Lord your God." (Deuteronomy 18:13)

This verse reminds us that temimut — wholehearted simplicity, is not childish naivety, but a profound spiritual quality.

The verse appears immediately after the Torah warns against fortune-telling, magic, and other forms of superstition and idolatry. A wholehearted person does not chase forbidden ways of predicting the future. Instead, they accept reality with trust, seek the good within it, and place their confidence in God rather than in mystical promises.

Rashi explains: "Walk with Him in wholeheartedness. Look to Him, do not investigate the future. Whatever comes upon you, accept it with sincerity, and then you will truly be with the Lord your God."

Such simplicity is not ignorance. It is trust, and the courage to live without needing to control every unknown.

Perhaps, then, wishing someone a "wholehearted day" is one of the nicest blessings we can offer.