Do not pervert judgment, do not show favor, and do not accept a bribe, for bribery blinds the eyes of the wise and distorts words of truth.

Deuteronomy 16:19

The Torah’s admonitions, although unsurprising, nevertheless make us wonder.  Are not all three injunctions expressions of the same idea, particularly since the preceding verse has already commanded us to judge righteously?

Rashi addresses the question, suggesting that the prohibition against perverting judgment applies to the verdict, the prohibition against showing favor applies to the courtroom (lest one litigant doubt the judge’s impartiality and alter his claim), and the prohibition against accepting bribes applies even to a case where the judge has not altered his verdict on account of the bribe he received.

Even so, in light of the prior mandate to judge righteously, why are further qualifications necessary?  And how can we understand Rashi’s case of a judge who accepts a bribe without altering his verdict?

The adage that justice is blind traces its origins to these verses.  Rabbi Zev Leff offers the hypothetical case of a man brought before the court and found guilty of murder.  Before the judge can order the criminal’s execution, the wife of the offender steps forward and argues that, since she committed no crime, she does not deserve to be made a widow.  Then her children step forward and argue that, since they committed no crime, they do not deserve to be made orphans.  Finally, the criminal’s creditors step forward and argue that, since they committed no crime, they do not deserve to suffer financial loss.

What is the judge to do?  He has no choice but to disregard all the apparent injustices of his verdict and rule according to the law.

Any flesh and blood judge may become so intoxicated with his own power that he begins to see himself as if he is the One Judge sitting upon the throne of Ultimate Justice.  He may come to believe that he is not merely an agent of the justice system but the administer of justice, that he is empowered not merely to interpret the law but to engineer civil and social justice.  He may eventually view the law as his own personal instrument with which to forge a perfect society.  In the end, he may distort legal justice in the misguided belief that he is the architect of a greater justice.  By doing so, he plays into the hands of his yeitzer hara – his evil inclination – becoming an agent of corruption in his pursuit of higher justice.

By acting thus, a judge accepts a bribe more subtle and insidious than money.  Convinced of the integrity of his own actions, he becomes blind to the wisdom that qualified him from the start to serve as an arbiter of justice as he unwittingly twists the words of true testimony to serve his preconceived notions of right and wrong.  When the judge comes to believe he is above the law, there is little hope that justice will be done.

In this warning, however, the Torah does not limit itself to the office of the judge.  In many ways, we are all judges, evaluating and passing judgment upon our fellow human beings in the courtrooms of our minds.  On the one hand, we may fear to judge at all, indulging the moral equivalence of non-judgmentalism by refusing to acknowledge wickedness no matter what its form.  On the other extreme, we may judge too hastily or superficially, passing judgment without adequate information or based upon our preconceptions and stereotypes.

Here especially the Torah warns us against bribery.  For whenever we indulge our prejudices, biases, and stereotypes in a rush to moral judgment, we are effectively accepting a bribe from the yeitzer hara – allowing our natural inclination toward evil to win out over our wisdom, our judgment, and our equally balanced inclination toward what is good and what is right.

Some people can’t be described in any way other than toxic.  Unlike those who are merely unpleasant, unfriendly, or unrefined, toxic people exude an aura of such intolerability that they poison the atmosphere of any room they walk into, like chemical or biological waste.

It isn’t, necessarily, that these people are overtly offensive.  Just as certain people have the quality we call chein – an unquantifiable grace or charm that makes their company always welcome and brightens even the most dreary surroundings – the toxic person fouls his environment even through seemingly benign comments or actions.  A peculiar combination of self-absorption, tactlessness, insensitivity, and abrasiveness produces a personality type that would evoke pity if it weren’t so difficult to endure.

Yesterday, I had the misfortune to find myself next to a person who, with one thoughtless comment, nearly drove me from the room.  Recognizing that his remark originated not from malice but from terminal cluelessness, I tried to reframe the exchange rather than let it ruin my afternoon.  My mind was already on the week’s Torah portion, so I began to look there for perspective.

With one of the most dramatic openings of any parsha, Re’eh begins with the admonition of Moshe Rabbeinu (Moses) to recognize the blessing and the curse that the Almighty has placed before us and contemplate the consequences of the choices we will make.  Choose life!  declares Moshe, but not until he has outlined the specifics of what that choice will entail over the course of the next several parshios.

Moshe first outlines matters of intrinsic kedusha, including the sanctity of the land, details of the offerings upon the altar and of sacred tithes, and the preparation of kosher meat.  Only then does he shift his emphasis to matters of Jewish society, adjuring the people to do “what is good and what is right in the eyes of HaShem, your G-d.”

Rashi explains:  “What is good – in the eyes of heaven; what is right – in the eyes of men.”  It is not enough to be sensitive to the Temple service, the laws of kashrus, and the requirements of a relationship with one’s Creator; the Jew must be equally concerned with how his conduct is perceived by his fellow men.

And so Moshe goes on to warn against imitating the rites and customs of the gentile nations who surround us, lest exposure to their moral value system comes to uproot our own.  He warns against following a false prophet who, by misrepresenting the Torah, convinces us that the Word of G-d is subject to reinterpretation and revision.  He warns us to be wary of both individuals and communities that seek to impose new values and laws, always in the name of truth or love or brotherhood or innovation.

Moshe reminds us that G-d has chosen us as a treasured people, who remain treasured by virtue of our virtuous conduct – through our self-restraint, through our faithfulness and commitment, through our mercy and generosity and genuine concern for our fellow Jews.

We are therefore obligated to contemplate not only how G-d sees us but how our fellows see us.  We have to be willing to look carefully enough to recognize whether others perceive us as walking biohazards.  We then have to be willing to do whatever is necessary to clean up our mess.  This doesn’t mean that we flatter others or conform to popular opinion.  It means that we strive to define our lives as examples of personal integrity and respect, to which others cannot help but respond with warmth and affection.

The one who finds Torah finds chein – charm and grace.  If the rest of the world doesn’t see us the way we would like them to, we have a very potent formula available to change their perception.  As we enter the month of Elul in preparation for Rosh HaShonah, it’s a message that deserves our attention.

And when you will listen to these laws and you will guard and perform them, then HaShem, Your G-d, will safeguard for you this covenant and this kindness…

So begins this week’s Torah portion, employing a most unusual form of the word “when:”  eikev – literally, heel.

Rashi offers this now-famous explanation:  when you will observe even the insignificant commandments, those that a person will [be inclined to] trample under his heel…

Which commandments are insignificant?  Obviously:  none.  And not so obviously:  all.

Every one of us finds certain rules and conventions and laws against which our natural sensitivities rebel.  For whatever individual reasons, we rationalize our rejection of the edicts of authority by dismissing these precepts as irrational, unnecessary, or overly burdensome – in short, insignificant.  These are different for each of us.

And it is precisely these commandments that are the most important for us to keep:  it is here that the loyal servant of the Almighty demonstrates his awareness that his own intellect, however bright or clever he may be, in no way qualifies him to pass judgment on the word of G-d.

The sages teach that when Moshe (Moses) went out to battle the giant Og, that Moshe’s staff could reach no higher than Og’s heel.  In fact, the battle between Moshe and Og was not one of physical prowess but one of merit.  As a remnant of the giants who walked the earth before the Great Flood, Og was a perfect physical specimen — independent, self-sufficient, and recognizing no authority higher than himself.  To him, the idea that he should subjugate his own reasoning to any external code of conduct was not only inconceivable but reprehensible.

Thus, in his confrontation with the leader of the Jewish people, the point of Og’s vulnerability was his “heel.”  In contrast, it was the humility of the leader of the Jews – the great prophet who, despite his greatness, nevertheless subjugated his own will to the Divine Will – that earned his nation the merit to defeat this most formidable enemy.*

Indeed, this quality is part of our very nature, for it defines our patriarch Jacob – Yaakov, whose name derives from eikev, meaning heel.  It is our willingness to commit ourselves to uphold the word of the Almighty, even as we struggle to understand its wisdom, that sets us apart from our enemies and will ultimately enable us to prevail over them.

* Heard from Rav Uziel Milevsky zt”l