Rabbi Safman's Weekly Message
Dear Friends,
As we join together to celebrate Shabbat we invite you to bring a kiddush cup or any glass filled with wine or grape juice and join together with us at the end of services to share in a l'chayim.
I look forward to celebrating Shabbat with you.
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Shofetim 2025
One of the remarkable features of the Hebrew language is that words are written without vowels. This means that the letters themselves sometimes allow for multiple meanings, and context is needed to determine how a word should be read. Far from being a limitation, this quality often opens up new layers of interpretation, giving us an opportunity to explore the richness of Torah both literally and interpretively.
In this week’s parashah, Shofetim, we come across such a moment. The Torah sets forth the foundational structures of justice for the Jewish people: appointing judges and officers, establishing a system of courts, and even the possibility of appointing a king. It is a parashah filled with laws and legal instructions, a blueprint for building a just society.
Among these instructions, we read about the responsibility of judges when they are presented with a case of suspected wrongdoing:
“And it is told to you, and you hear of it, then you shall make a thorough inquiry; and if it is true, the fact is established…” (Deuteronomy 17:4)
The Hebrew word translated here as “thorough” is היטב (heitev). Immediately, our eye catches the familiar root טוב (tov)—the word for “good.” Could it be that the Torah is instructing judges to make a“good” inquiry?
At first, this seems to make sense. A court that functions in a “good” manner, we might reason, will arrive at just decisions. But Ibn Ezra, the medieval commentator, cautions us not to confuse these two terms. The Torah is not asking judges merely to make a “good” inquiry in the vague, moral sense of the word; rather,it is demanding a careful, rigorous, diligent investigation. Justice, Ibn Ezra reminds us, cannot be satisfied with what feels right or looks good on the surface. It requires precise effort and unflinching attention to detail.
This distinction may feel small, but it carries profound meaning. To judge “well” is not the same as to judge “diligently.” The former risks being subjective—what seems“good” to one person may not seem “good” to another. The latter, however, is rooted in a shared standard of truth-seeking, an unrelenting pursuit of accuracy and fairness.
In today’s world, this message feels particularly urgent. We live in an age of instant communication and instant judgment. Social media thrives on snap assessments: a post, a tweet, a headline becomes the “evidence” upon which reputations rise or fall. We are quick to label—good or bad, guilty or innocent—without ever pausing to ask the deeper questions. Is the information accurate? Is the source reliable? What context might be missing?
The Torah’s charge to “inquire diligently” stands in stark contrast to this culture of immediacy. A true system of justice demands patience. It demands humility—the recognition that our first impression may not tell the whole story. And it demands courage, for the truth may be more complicated than we would like it to be.
And here is where Shofetim speaks not only to society at large but to each of us personally. As we enter the month of Elul, the month of reflection and return leading to the High Holy Days, we are called to engage in cheshbon hanefesh—an honest accounting of our souls. In this spiritual work, too, the difference between “good” and “diligent” matters.
It is easy to make a quick, “good” judgment of ourselves: to reassure ourselves that we are basically fine, that we mean well, that we are good people. But the Torah asks more of us. It asks us to look deeply, to examine our deeds with rigor, to ask the harder questions: Where did I fall short this year? Whom did I hurt with my words or neglect with my silence? Did I act in ways that were truly just, or merely convenient?
This process is not always comfortable. A thorough inquiry, by definition, will turn up things we would rather not see. But only when we face those truths can we begin the work of teshuvah, of true repentance.
May this Shabbat remind us of the Torah’s timeless lesson: that justice is not achieved through vague notions of what is “good,” but through careful, patient, and honest pursuit of truth, guiding our own actions with integrity.
Am Yisrael Chai!!!
Bring them home now!!!
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi K