By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
SAN DIEGO — This week’s parasha presents an intriguing perspective for those with an inclination towards environmentalism. It articulates, “When besieging a city for an extended period, preparing for war to conquer it, refrain from felling its trees with axes. These trees are for sustenance, and you must not cut them down. Can a tree in the field be compared to a person, that it should be under siege?”
Is this a query or a declaration?
Ibn Ezra interprets it as a declaration, asserting, “For the human is like a tree in the field.” He perceived a deep interconnection between us and the environment. Harm a tree, and we harm ourselves.
Targum Yonatan similarly uses metaphor, understanding the verse as, “Do not harm the tree – is the tree a sentient being that can experience pain?”
Across more than three millennia, our forebears have demonstrated a profound concern for our surroundings. Judaism extends this care beyond trees, embracing the preservation of anything beneficial to humanity, a concept referred to as bal tashchit. If plant and animal life suffer, we learn, so does human existence. We are intricately linked to nature and are mandated to avoid squandering any of its resources.
The Sefer HaChinuch further teaches us the real message of bal taschit – to avoid evil, to work authentically to improve our world, to do build and do good. This is what not destroying a tree is truly about, avoiding destruction and instead building goodness in our society. Isn’t this what life is about, and isn’t this a beautiful message at this time in the days and weeks leading to Rosh Hashana/Yom Kippur?
Do you embody the role of a creator or a demolisher? Are you an advocate for growth or destruction? This question encompasses your actions towards yourself, and towards others around you.
If we are the “tree of the field,” and we are (!), then how can we grow well rooted, well anchored, and blossom in our attachment to Hashem, to Torah, and to Judaism? This is our time to plow that which is in our way, to reseed, to ensure every blade of grass in our life is properly fed and to ensure that we are spiritually well fertilized. Our faith in Hashem, our Creator, is the ultimate nourishment for our growth, and serves as the foundation of our being a “tree of the field.” Trees without well-anchored foundations don’t last. At this time of our calendar year, we can move past weaknesses and develop into strong, abundant trees of life.
In this parashah, devoted to the central theme of “Tzedek, Tzedek Tirdof,” “Justice, justice shall you pursue for yourself…” the Torah teaches that social order requires leaders who are in harmony with protecting social justice. Nachmanides’ teaches on this verse that one “justice” refers to earthly courts, while the other “justice” refers to the heavenly tribunal. Fail bringing about a just world here, and real judgment awaits you above.
Rabbi Moshe Feinstein suggests that the “for yourself” transforms the message from being one exclusively about governance and community, to a personalized message about the inner life of everyone.
This understanding shifts the focal point of the communication away from a sole emphasis on governance and community, towards a more intimately tailored discourse centered around the psychological landscape of each distinct individual. Collectively, we are called upon to be our own inner judges, to ensure that our actions are proper. We should also be our own law-enforcement officials to make sure that we follow through on the proper course of action. Furthermore, there exists the imperative for us to embody our own regulatory authority, thereby assuring our conscientious pursuit of the rightful path.
We should “not judge unfairly,” “show favoritism,” or “take a bribe,” (Devarim 16:19) in the evaluation of our own selves. Rabbi Feinstein suggests that even if we are Torah scholars or righteous people, we should not assume that what we are doing is virtuous. Rather, we should view ourselves as simple and average people and judge ourselves accordingly. Rabbi Feinstein proposes that regardless of our actual status as scholars well-versed in Torah or individuals of exemplary moral standing, we must refrain from presuming inherent virtue in our actions. Instead, it is prudent to adopt a perspective of self-perception akin to that of ordinary and unassuming individuals, subsequently subjecting ourselves to an assessment commensurate with such a disposition. Rabbi Avraham Twerski teaches us that every person has the obligation to sit in judgment on his own actions.
Critiquing others comes easily to anyone. The hallmark of a virtuous individual lies in the ability to discern positive attributes, even amidst unfavorable circumstances, within those in our proximity.
In the realm of communal existence, an ongoing evaluation of conduct is essential: Is this action morally sound or erroneous? Yet, as members of the Jewish faith, our evaluations should be infused with “righteous justice,” or mishpat tzedek, anchored in genuine empathy, an equilibrium between discernment and benevolence. In every instance of judgment, whether in matters of law or interpersonal interactions, it is imperative to proceed as if the Divine Presence itself stands in our midst, guiding our deliberations.
There’s also this teaching that we hope all of our leaders follow, “You shall not pervert justice; you shall not show favoritism, and you shall not take a bribe, for bribery blinds the eyes of the wise and perverts just words” The commentator Gan Raveh explains how accepting a bribe diminishes a leader, in light of another Talmudic passage (Shabbat 10a) that states, “Any judge who issues a true verdict is considered to be a partner with G-d in Creation.” How open are you to being “bribed”? I particularly like what Upton Sinclair said on this point, “It is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it.” Bribes come in many ways, often subtle.
From laws of unsolved murder and asylum cities to laws of warfare, this week’s learning provides powerful guidance for leaders on justice, but perhaps even more importantly, emphasizes the importance of when to bring mercy to the many laws, rules and norms described in the Torah. Shouldn’t we all be willing to make minor individual sacrifices for the good of the group?
Isn’t this what we hope for in our modern-day leaders, that they never lose sight of being genuinely concerned with the needs of individuals? Isn’t the way we mercifully treat all, even the weakest in our midst, an essential that is at the core of who we are as Jews? And isn’t it the responsibility of us all, not just our leaders, to safeguard the values and laws that our lives, our communities, are built and maintained on? We are to respect all equally, rich, poor, weak, powerful, all…equally, with mercy and empathy.
Rabbi Zelig Pliskin tells us that we are to be a judge of your own behavior before the behavior of others. “Judges and police, you shall place for yourself.” Rabbi Simcha Bunim commented “that is, before you make judgment about other people, judge yourself first.” As the Sages said, “first correct yourself and only then correct others.”
We are a part of a group, a forest of multiple trees, but we are ultimately individuals who cry out to Hashem to hear our unique needs and prayers, and to be merciful to us collectively and individually.
May the Ultimate Leader hear our individual and communal prayers during this auspicious month and time of challenge—for the sake of all.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun. He may be contacted via michael.mantell@sdjewishworld.com