Parashat Shoftim, Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9

This Parasha has been generously sponsored by Adrienne Rosen and Myra white, in loving memory of their mother Jane Potts - Elul 10, September 1, and grandmother of Alana and Sally Rosenwhite.

Never stop striving for the moral goal.

After seven months Murphy is home. Murphy is a garden gnome who disappeared from his abode in Gloucester, England. He mysteriously reappeared recently complete with an album of his adventures in a dozen countries. The traveling garden gnome prank dates back to the mid 1980s. Among the variations of this prank is the one that gives the gnomes an environmental message. These statues are handed off from person to person, each of whom pays close attention to environmental issues during the gnome's journey. No scrapbooks for these roving lawn ornaments, their adventures are recorded on a special website.

It is the qualities with which we imbue these terracotta figures that provide a key to understanding the warning in Shoftim about certain objects: You shall not set up a sacred post – any kind of pole beside the altar of the Lord your God that you may make – or erect a stone pillar; for such the Lord your God detests. (Deuteronomy 16:21-22). The sacred post and the stone pillar symbolize a threat to monotheism.

Earlier in the Torah such items were not problematic. After dreaming of a stairway to heaven, …Jacob took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up as a pillar. (Genesis 28:8) Similarly, after recounting God's teaching to the people, Moses then wrote down all the commands of the Lord. Early in the morning, he set up an altar at the foot of the mountain, with twelve pillars for the twelve tribes of Israel. (Exodus 24:4) Why the change of heart in Deuteronomy? As Rashi explains, "While this was pleasing to God in the days of our ancestors, God now hates it because it was turned into an idolatrous practice." (Rashi, commentary on Deuteronomy 16:22)

The sacred post is called an asherah; and as Rabbi Gunther Plaut explains in his commentary (p. 1204): "usually made of wood, these asherim (dedicated to the goddess Asherah) were found near altar sites and represented sacred trees." (Note: Baruch Sienna wrote about sacred trees and the asherah in a previous posting.) Having an asherah near God's altar was akin to placing signs for two competing political parties on your lawn.

This is not the only place in Shoftim where trees are imbued with powerful qualities. Later in the portion we read that: When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are the trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city? Only trees that you know do not yield food may be destroyed… (Deuteronomy 20:19-20) From this excerpt comes the famous concept of Bal Tashkhit, "do not destroy," which has been discussed previously in this column on two separate occasions.

The Torah teaches that only trees that don't provide food can be cut down and used in a siege. The concept of Bal Tashkhit derived from this verse has been used as the basis for environmental teachings in Judaism. However, when reading the phrase Ki ha-adam ets ha-sadeh, translated as Are the trees of the field human, I begin to imagine little elves baking cookies inside a tree. The imagery becomes more powerful as we complete the verse: Are the trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city. Suddenly, the tree in chapter 20 is imbued with qualities we were trying to avoid in chapter 16. Wow, talk about anthropomorphism!

This verse in chapter 20 is difficult to understand, let alone translate. It has created a lot of chatter in the world of biblical commentary. In fact two of the biggies in the field are at odds with each other, and it all hinges on the little word ki, which can be translated as "for," "possibly" or "perhaps." Think of the difference between saying, "for the trees of the field are human," as opposed to "perhaps the trees of the field are human." Rashi's interpretation personifies the tree: The word ki means "perhaps." Perhaps the tree is a person who can withdraw from you within the besieged city, suffering hunger and thirst like the city's inhabitants? Ibn Ezra disagrees and in fact, believes there is no need for this verse at all! He explains the verse Ki ha-'adam ets ha-sadeh, more along the lines of "For the tree of the field is human." Ibn Ezra clarifies this:

…the meaning is that the tree of the field is the livelihood of the human. This is similar to the verse [A handmill or an upper millstone shall not be taken in pawn,] for that would be taking someone's life in pawn. (Deuteronomy 24:6) meaning he is taking his livelihood as collateral. …therefore, one may not destroy a fruit tree which provides life [sustenance, livelihood] for a person, one may only eat from it.

What's the difference here? Both commentators acknowledge the importance of the tree. Rashi stresses the importance of the tree on its own; Ibn Ezra places it within the context of its importance to humanity.

Though writing centuries ago, these two scholars demonstrate differing modern approaches to the environment. For some of us, trees, animals and humans are of equal worth. For others, humans are above the rest of nature but depend upon it. Both outlooks acknowledge responsibility towards nature. Jewish ecological perspectives branch out from a foundation of responsibility.

Much has been written about Deuteronomy 20:19 as the basis of a prohibition against wanton destruction, but what about the use of nature as opposed to its destruction? Do the two different warnings about trees in the parasha send a mixed message? Deuteronomy 20:19 emphasizes the importance of trees and raises our awareness to the role of nature in our lives. Deuteronomy 16:21-22 teaches us not to turn our compassion and commitment to environmentalism into religious fanaticism.

As in all else, we must find the sustainable, moral balance. We need to stand back; otherwise we can't see the forest for the trees, (Sorry, couldn't resist). This leads us to a new understanding of yet another famous verse in our portion: tsedek tsedek tirdof, justice justice shall you pursue. (Deuteronomy 16:20) Why say justice twice? Well, stylistically it is emphatic; but let's approach the issue midrashically: There is justice in this view, and there is justice in the other view. To quote Fiddler on the Roof: "He's right and he's right." The heart of the matter here is the pursuit of justice: Never stop striving for the moral goal. This is the essential task of the Jewish soul, nourished and sustained by our tree of life, guiding us towards the right balance in all questions including our relationship to and our place within nature. As the verse continues: Justice, justice shall you pursue, that you may thrive…

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel