By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., in El Cajon, California
It’s striking that Parsha Shoftim, which we read as Elul begins, opens not with laws about judges or kings, but with a lesson about a tree.
How often do I diminish the Divine image within me through harsh self-judgment? How often do I wound relationships with words spoken in anger or impatience? How often do I squander the precious gifts Hashem has entrusted to me, my time, my strengths, my opportunities to do mitzvot, my ability to bring goodness into the world? Bal tashchit speaks to all of this. We are not only forbidden from destroying trees; we are called not to waste the sacred potential Hashem has planted within us.
If we truly are like trees, then our calling is to keep growing. A healthy tree does not become mighty in a single season. It sends its roots ever deeper, draws nourishment from the earth, withstands fierce storms, and continues to bear fruit year after year. So it is with us. Our deepest roots are our emunah, our commitment to Torah and mitzvot, our tefillah, and our daily effort to live in the awareness that Hashem is always with us.
Trees with shallow roots cannot withstand powerful winds. Souls without deep spiritual roots struggle when life’s storms inevitably arrive.
The parsha then opens with the familiar command, “Shoftim v’shotrim titein lecha”—”Appoint judges and officers for yourself.”
Certainly, the Torah is establishing a just legal system for the Jewish people. Yet the words titein lecha—”for yourself”—also invite us to establish a beit din within our own hearts. Before judging others, we are first called to examine ourselves.
But Torah asks for cheshbon hanefesh, not self-condemnation.
There is a profound difference between humility and self-rejection. Genuine teshuvah never asks us to believe we are failures. It asks us to recognize where we have missed the mark, take responsibility, seek forgiveness where necessary, and return to Hashem with sincerity. We can regret our choices without losing sight of our infinite worth as children of the Ribbono Shel Olam. A stumble does not define a life. We are always greater than our worst mistake because every Jew possesses a soul that remains forever connected to its Creator.
Later the Torah declares, “Tzedek, tzedek tirdof”—”Justice, justice shall you pursue.” Perhaps that pursuit begins within.
Justice is not perfectionism. Hashem never asks us to be perfect; He asks us to be faithful. Justice means seeing ourselves truthfully, with honesty, humility, and compassion. It means asking, “Where did I grow today? Where did I fall short? How can I serve Hashem more faithfully tomorrow?” Those questions lead us toward teshuvah. Asking, “What is wrong with me?” rarely does.
The Torah also warns judges not to accept bribes because a bribe blinds even the wisest person. We usually think of money, but our emotions can become bribes as well. Fear can distort our judgment. Anger can convince us that we are unquestionably right. Hurt can cause us to assume the worst about someone else’s intentions. Our emotions are real, but they are not always reliable guides to truth. Torah asks us to see with clear eyes, not clouded hearts.
That is one of Elul’s greatest gifts. It is a season of clearing away whatever obscures our relationship with Hashem before the Days of Awe arrive. It is the time to uproot the weeds that have quietly taken hold in our hearts, to strengthen the habits that nourish our souls, and to return to the people Hashem created us to become.
The same truth transforms the way we see others. Chazal teach us to judge others favorably because only Hashem sees the whole story. Every person carries struggles we cannot see, battles we know nothing about. When we extend compassion to another Jew, our own hearts become softer as well. Often, the mercy we show others teaches us how to accept the mercy Hashem continually extends to us.
Perhaps this is one of Shoftim’s deepest lessons. Justice and compassion are not opposing values; they are partners. The Torah asks us to pursue both.
As the shofar begins to sound each morning throughout Elul, it is not calling us to become someone else. It is awakening the soul that Hashem placed within us. It is calling us home.
So perhaps the question as Elul begins is not simply whether we are preparing for Rosh Hashanah. The deeper question is whether we are tending the tree Hashem planted. Are our roots reaching deeper into Torah, tefillah, and emunah? Is our life bearing fruit that brings blessing to our family, our community, and the world? Are we building more than we are destroying?
Each day of Elul is another invitation to grow.
May Hashem help us remove whatever keeps us from drawing closer to Him. May He deepen our roots in Torah, strengthen our faith, guide us to judge ourselves with honesty tempered by compassion, and grant that our lives bear abundant fruit, for His honor, for the good of Klal Yisrael, and for blessing in the world.
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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.