Twitter

Thursday, August 28, 2025

Parashat Shoftim — May Lead to Mixed Dancing

 

Parashat Shoftim — May Lead to Mixed Dancing

Rabbi Ari Kahn

Exploring the Slippery Slope of Celebration and Boundaries in Jewish Thought

From what I can tell, there are two types of slippery slope arguments: the kind we make (which we tend to like), and the kind others make (which we tend to dismiss). Most people use the phrase “slippery slope” to highlight how a seemingly minor action could lead to an extreme or absurd conclusion.

Orthodox Jews, however, have their own version of this argument—often delivered with a touch of irony:
“Well, that may lead to mixed dancing.”
It’s usually said with a chuckle, but I suspect most people have no idea where this phrase originates or what it’s actually referencing. Surprisingly, its roots may lie in an understanding of something written in this week’s parsha, Shoftim.


Shoftim and Shotrim: Judges and Enforcers

The parsha opens with the command:

שֹׁפְטִים וְשֹׁטְרִים תִּתֵּן לְךָ בְּכָל שְׁעָרֶיךָ
“You shall appoint judges and officers in all your gates” (Deuteronomy 16:18).

The Torah is clearly concerned with maintaining order. A shoter—whether a police officer or someone who enforces judicial decisions—is part of a system designed to uphold justice.

Rabbi Mordechai Yaffe (the Lavush), a 16th-century halachic authority and student of the Rema, offers a subtle insight. Though he doesn’t cite this verse directly, he implies a connection between the end of last week’s parsha (Re’eh) and the beginning of Shoftim.¹


Joy, Celebration… and Boundaries

Parashat Re’eh ends with a discussion of the holidays—joyous occasions filled with celebration and communal festivity (Deuteronomy 16:13–17). The transition from joy to judgment may seem abrupt, but the Lavush—and even the non-Jewish chapter divisions attributed to the Archbishop of Canterbury²—suggest continuity. The Torah moves from celebration to regulation, from joy to oversight.

Why? Because joy, especially when accompanied by wine and music, can lead to poor decisions. The Talmud hints at this concern:

אין שמחה אלא בבשר ויין” — “There is no joy except with meat and wine” (Pesachim 109a),
but also warns of the dangers of intoxication and frivolity.

The Rambam codifies this in Hilchot Yom Tov:

“When eating and drinking, one must not be drawn to laughter, frivolity, or drunkenness... this is not joy, but debauchery.”³

He also notes the need for communal oversight during holidays to prevent inappropriate behavior.


From Celebration to Concern

This idea—that celebration requires boundaries—was taken seriously by halachic authorities. The verses in Shoftim speak of national identity: a homeland, a central place of worship, and a judicial system. But once these concepts were abstracted from their national context, they were applied to communal life in a broader sense.

And that’s where the concern about dancing comes in.

Rabbi Baruch Steinhardt of Germany, in the 18th century, warned that dancing—especially when combined with alcohol and music—could lead to mixed dancing. His caution wasn’t about dancing per se—it was about what dancing could lead to.

This concern was echoed by major halachic figures:

  • Rav Akiva Eiger wrote in his glosses to Shulchan Aruch that one must be cautious about gatherings that could lead to frivolity and immodesty.
  • The Chafetz Chaim, in Mishna Berurah, also emphasized the importance of maintaining decorum during celebrations.

They both referenced the need for vigilance, lest joy turn into impropriety.


Is This Still Relevant?

It’s easy to be cynical. “That may lead to mixed dancing” has become a punchline. But in a post–Me Too world, where we’ve seen how blurred boundaries can lead to real harm, perhaps this concern deserves a second look.

The Torah’s juxtaposition of joy and judgment isn’t accidental. It’s a reminder that holiness doesn’t mean rejecting joy—it means sanctifying it. And sometimes, that requires boundaries.


Footnotes

  1. Lavush, Orach Chaim, commentary on the structure of parshiot and their thematic transitions.
  2. The chapter divisions in the Bible were introduced by Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the 13th century.
  3. Rambam, Hilchot Yom Tov 6:20.
  4. Rabbi Baruch Steinhardt, cited in responsa literature regarding communal dancing and modesty.
  5. Rav Akiva Eiger, glosses to Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 529.
  6. Mishna Berurah 529:17.

Parashat Shoftim — Torah from Zion

 

Parashat Shoftim — Torah from Zion

Rabbi Ari Kahn

In this week’s parasha, Shoftim, the Torah outlines the judicial structure of the Israelite nation. On two separate occasions, it addresses how legal questions should be resolved—first through local courts, and then through a central authority in Jerusalem.

 Local Courts: Justice in Every Gate

The parasha begins:

שֹׁפְטִים וְשֹׁטְרִים תִּתֵּן לְךָ בְּכָל שְׁעָרֶיךָ
“You shall appoint judges and officers in all your gates…”
(Deuteronomy 16:18)

This verse establishes the requirement for a judicial system in every city—b’chol she’arecha. When disputes arise, litigants are expected to approach their local courts. These courts are empowered to rule on matters based on received tradition—mesorah—passed down from teacher to student.¹

However, their authority is limited. They may only rule on matters for which they have a clear tradition. They are not permitted to innovate or set new legal precedents.


The Supreme Court: Torah from Zion

Later in the parasha, the Torah describes a different kind of legal escalation:

וּבָאתָ אֶל הַכֹּהֲנִים הַלְוִיִּם וְאֶל הַשֹּׁפֵט… אֲשֶׁר יִהְיֶה בַּיָּמִים הָהֵם
“You shall come to the priests, the Levites, and to the judge who will be in those days…”
(Deuteronomy 17:9)

This refers to ascending to HaMakom asher Yivchar Hashem—the place that God will choose, ultimately identified as Jerusalem and the Beit HaMikdash.² This central court, known as the Sanhedrin, is the only body authorized to issue new rulings and establish legal precedent.³

The juxtaposition of ritual and justice here is striking. The Temple is not only a place of prayer and sacrifice—it is also the seat of legal authority. Justice and holiness are intertwined.


Theological Implications: Law from Heaven

This duality echoes the earliest description of the Mishkan:

וְנוֹעַדְתִּי לְךָ שָׁם וְדִבַּרְתִּי אִתְּךָ מֵעַל הַכַּפֹּרֶת מִבֵּין שְׁנֵי הַכְּרֻבִים…”
“I will meet with you there and speak with you from above the cover, from between the two cherubim…”
(Exodus 25:22)

The Aron housed the Luchot, and the Kruvim symbolized divine communication. The Mishkan—and later the Temple—was a conduit through which the Word of God descended into the world.

Thus, when the central court issues a new ruling, it is not merely a legal act—it is a theological moment. The precedent flows from heaven, through the judges, into the people. This is Torah from Zion.


Inspiration and Authority

The authority of judges is not solely based on wisdom or integrity—though both are essential. Their legitimacy stems from divine involvement in history. Just as God gave the Torah to Moshe, He continues to inspire those who study and adjudicate Torah law.

The Jerusalem Talmud teaches:

תלמוד ירושלמי מסכת פאה פרק ב הלכה ד

ריב"ל אמר עליהם ועליהם כל ככל דברים הדברים מקרא משנה תלמוד ואגדה אפי' מה שתלמיד ותיק עתיד להורות לפני רבו כבר נאמר למשה בסיני

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: All of them—all the words—Scripture, Mishnah, Talmud, and Aggadah—even what a seasoned student is destined to teach before his teacher was already said to Moshe at Sinai. Jerusalem TalmudPeah 2:4

This affirms that divine wisdom continues to flow through sincere Torah study and halachic deliberation.


Personal Reflection: Torah in Jerusalem

As I sit on my porch overlooking the hills of Jerusalem, I’m reminded that this city is not just a place of history—it is a place where the Word of God descended and continues to resonate. From here, Torah flowed to the people, was taught in every city, and judged in every gate.

But for Torah teachings to emerge—for precedent to be set—God must “open the heavens” and inspire those who seek truth. That is the essence of Torah from Zion.


 Footnotes

  1. Rambam, Hilchot Sanhedrin 1:1–4 — outlines the structure of local courts and their reliance on tradition.
  2. Sifrei Devarim 153 — identifies “the place God will choose” as Jerusalem.
  3. Mishnah, Sanhedrin 11:2 — only the Great Sanhedrin in the Temple can issue binding legal rulings.
  4. Rashi on Exodus 25:22 — explains the Kruvim as the source of divine communication.

Parashat Shoftim — Building a Society of Justice

 

Parashat Shoftim — Building a Society of Justice

Rabbi Ari Kahn

This week’s parasha opens with a foundational directive for national life:

שֹׁפְטִים וְשֹׁטְרִים תִּתֵּן לְךָ בְּכָל שְׁעָרֶיךָ
“You shall appoint judges and officers in all your gates”
(Deuteronomy 16:18)

On the surface, this verse speaks to the infrastructure of a just society—courts and enforcement. But over the centuries, it has also been interpreted on a deeply personal level.


The Individual Gates: Rav Chaim Vital’s Interpretation

Rav Chaim Vital, the principal disciple of the Arizal, offers a spiritualized reading:

בכל שעריך” refers not only to city gates, but to the gates of the human body—our senses.¹

According to this view, each person must appoint internal “judges and officers” to guard their eyes, ears, and mouth. It’s a call for spiritual vigilance, a reminder to protect ourselves from harmful influences.

This interpretation resonated especially in the Diaspora, where Jews lacked national sovereignty. Rav Chaim Vital’s insight transformed a civic command into a personal ethic, making Torah relevant to every individual.


The Peshat: Building a Nation

Yet the peshat—the plain meaning—remains powerful. The Torah is speaking about society. In ancient Israel, judges sat at the city gates, the public square, where justice was visible and accessible.²

Moshe Rabbeinu, nearing the end of his life, is preparing the people to enter the Land. They are about to transition from a tribal wilderness existence to a national society. And that society must be built on law, order, and justice.

This is not just a metaphor. It’s a blueprint.


From Diaspora to Sovereignty

For centuries, Jews lived as communities within other nations. We built shuls, schools, and mikvaot—but we didn’t build armies or police forces. We lived Judaism privately, not publicly.

Living in Israel changes that. It’s not just about planting trees or observing Shemitah. It’s about creating a society—a reshut harabim—that reflects Jewish values.³

Yes, the modern State of Israel is not a halachic state. But neither were many of the ancient Israelite kingdoms. Some were led by idolaters. The challenge today is to build a society that aspires toward justice, compassion, and holiness—even if imperfectly.


Justice as a Universal Value

The command to appoint judges is not just a Jewish value—it’s a universal one. One of the Sheva Mitzvot Bnei Noach is dinim—establishing courts of law. Justice is the foundation of civilization.

So while Rav Chaim Vital’s interpretation remains beautiful and relevant, perhaps the time has come to reclaim the peshat. The Torah is calling on us—not just as individuals, but as a people—to build a society rooted in justice.


Conclusion

Parashat Shoftim is not just about personal growth. It’s about national responsibility. As we live in a time when Jewish sovereignty has returned, we must ask: Are we building the kind of society Moshe envisioned?

We need judges. We need police. We need an army.  We need justice.
And we need to remember that Torah is not only for the soul—it’s for the street.

Shabbat Shalom.


Footnotes

  1. Rav Chaim Vital, Shaarei Kedusha, Part 1, Shaar 2 — interprets “gates” as the sensory openings of the human body.
  2. See Rashi on Deuteronomy 16:18 — explains that judges sat at the entrance of each city to adjudicate cases.
  3. Ramban on Leviticus 18:4 — emphasizes the Torah’s vision of a society governed by divine law.
  4. See II Kings 17 — describes the idolatrous practices of the kings of Israel.
  5. Talmud Bavli, Sanhedrin 56a — outlines the Seven Noahide Laws, including the obligation to establish courts.

Parashat Shoftim — Carrying the Torah: Kingship and Its Limits

Parashat Shoftim — Carrying the Torah: Kingship and Its Limits

Rabbi Ari Kahn

This week's parasha, Shoftim, addresses foundational aspects of national governance in ancient Israel. It begins with the appointment of judges and officers (Deuteronomy 16:18), and later introduces the concept of monarchy:

“You shall surely set over yourself a king whom the Lord your God shall choose…”
(Deuteronomy 17:15)

This mitzvah to appoint a king seems straightforward. Yet, when the people later request a king in the time of the prophet Shmuel, the reaction is anything but simple.


Shmuel’s Grief and God’s Response

In Shmuel Aleph (I Samuel), chapter 8, the people approach Shmuel with a request:

“Behold, you have grown old, and your sons do not walk in your ways. Now appoint for us a king to judge us like all the nations.”
(I Samuel 8:5)

Shmuel is deeply distressed by this request. God responds:

“It is not you they have rejected, but Me they have rejected from reigning over them.”
(I Samuel 8:7)

Why is this request so offensive? On the surface, it seems like a fulfillment of the mitzvah in Shoftim. But the nuance lies in the motivation and phrasing:

“To judge us like all the nations.”

This implies not just a desire for centralized leadership, but a rejection of the Torah-based judicial system. The people weren’t merely asking for a king—they were asking for a different kind of law, one modeled after foreign nations.¹


Judges vs. Kings: Authority and Law

Until this point, Israel was governed by judges (shoftim), who adjudicated based on Torah law. Shmuel’s sons, however, were corrupt (I Samuel 8:3), prompting the people to seek an alternative. But their request was not just about leadership—it was about legal philosophy.

God interprets their request as a rejection of divine law.² The issue wasn’t who would implement the law, but what kind of law would be implemented. The Torah system, rooted in Sinai, was being cast aside in favor of a more secular, nationalistic model.


The First Kings: Shaul and David

Despite His displeasure, God instructs Shmuel to appoint a king. Shaul becomes Israel’s first monarch, but his reign is marked by instability and eventual failure (I Samuel 15). David, also anointed by Shmuel, begins the Davidic dynasty, which culminates in the building of the Beit HaMikdash by his son Shlomo.

David’s kingship represents a turning point: a monarch who strives to align with divine law. Yet even the Davidic kings did not always live up to their spiritual responsibilities.


The King and the Torah

The Torah mandates that the king must carry a personal Sefer Torah:

“And it shall be with him, and he shall read from it all the days of his life…”
(Deuteronomy 17:19)

This requirement symbolizes the king’s subservience to Torah law. He is not a lawmaker in the modern sense, but a guardian of divine legislation.³

A king who sees his role as creating new laws or rejecting Torah values is not the kind of king the Torah envisions. The image of the king walking with the Torah is not just ceremonial—it’s ideological. It affirms that true leadership in Israel is rooted in fidelity to God’s law.


Conclusion

The tension between divine authority and human governance is central to Parashat Shoftim. The Torah permits monarchy, but only under strict conditions: the king must be chosen by God, must not amass excessive wealth or power, and must remain tethered to the Torah.

The episode in Shmuel Aleph reveals how easily this balance can be disrupted. When leadership becomes a vehicle for rejecting divine law, it ceases to be legitimate. The king who carries the Torah is not just a ruler—he is a servant of God and of the people.


Footnotes

  1. See Ralbag and Malbim on I Samuel 8:5, who interpret the request as a desire to imitate foreign political systems.
  2. Radak on I Samuel 8:7 explains that the rejection was not of Shmuel personally, but of the divine system he represented.
  3. Rambam, Hilchot Melachim 3:1–3, elaborates on the king’s obligation to write and carry a Torah scroll, emphasizing his role as a spiritual exemplar.