Parshas Shoftim 5784
The terms “offense” and “defense” apply to baseball just as they do to hockey or basketball, but are rarely used. You speak about a team as either “at bat” or “in the field,” not as “on offense” or “on defense” as in other sports. Why the distinction? I think because in baseball, it simply doesn’t need to be said. It’s so obvious that if you’re at bat you’re attempting to score runs and if you’re playing the field you’re attempting to prevent them, that no more explanation is required. But in basketball, you don’t change equipment or position, just direction. It’s more fluid, and you can lose track of who’s doing what. Sometimes the difference between offense and defense is so slight, it needs to be called out and discussed.
Shoftim and Shotrim play such a sport.
Judges and Officers are to be appointed, Moshe instructs the people, to serve at all the “gates” that the Jewish People will inhabit upon entering Eretz Yisrael. The “gates” are not only a means of referring to the cities punctuating the Israeli landscape, they are also the very location in which those appointed leaders are to be located within the cities.
When the angels come to Sodom, the first person they encounter is Lot, who is sitting at the gates of the city. Why? Rashi explains that Lot had just been appointed a Shofet over Sodom and the gates of the city is where the judges were located. When Avraham and Ephron finalize the purchase of Ma’aras HaMachpelah, the deal is witnessed by “all those who came through the gates.” Based on this description, Rashi explains that Ephron had been appointed an officer, or Shoter of the city, and hence was present at the gates of the city.
Why are judges and officers located at the gates of the city? Perhaps so they could be easily found and accessed. So that if a crime was committed, if someone needed to be brought to justice, if a judgement needed to be adjudicated, there would be no confusion as to where one could find help.
The Sefer HaChinuch, though, offers a different explanation. He suggests that Shoftim and Shotrim needed to be at the entrance of the city, not so so that they could be called upon to act, but so that they could be easily seen.
Yes, the Shoftim and Shotrim were supposed to lay down the law when something in society went awry. But prior to that, they were supposed to create a presence—right at the entrance to the city—that reminded the citizens and visitors therein of how life ought to be led: with fairness, justice, and nobility.
It’s the difference between offense and defense, and it’s an important one. The Judges were not only to be called upon defensively, once the law was broken or an argument had already broken out. They were meant to play offense—to establish a culture of honesty and virtue—before anything went wrong.
The Judges were role models, people who represented the values that the whole of society was supposed to abide by. And in the Torah’s conception of ideal living, they were not only supposed to be accessed defensively. After the fact. After the infraction. So that they could come in and clean up the mess. Rather, they should be in an offensive position, as sources of inspiration to live in a way that precluded the wrongdoing and brokenness in the first place.
Who are the Judges and Officers in our lives? The friends, teachers, rebbeim, and mentors that embody the values we are trying to model our own lives after? And what position do they play? Do we keep them on defense—turning to them for guidance only once something has been broken and needs repair, only once life has veered off to the side and we’re desperate for course correction?
Or do we allow them to play offense? To be in position to help shape our lives and influence us before something breaks? To help change the oil before the car breaks down? Do we invest in those relationships even when all is calm? Not only so that we’ll be able to call upon them if things go sour, but as reminders of how to act to keep things sweet.
Busy people tend to manage by emergency. It’s difficult making the time for things that simply don’t feel urgent because no crisis has yet emerged. Yet we know the folly of such living, of the wonderful and enriching opportunities we miss out on, simply because it was hard to find the time and no crisis demanded we do so.
We know the people we’d want in our corner if life started to unravel. Why wait for that to happen? If we could keep those Shoftim and Shotrim more closely in our orbit before the crisis struck, perhaps the crisis would never come to pass.
And the issue of the offensive versus defensive position of Shoftim doesn’t only pertain to the influence we receive, but of the influence we give. How often as parents do we find ourselves arriving after the fact, to referee a fight after it’s already broken out, or to pick up the pieces of a crisis a child may be going through?
To be sure, no amount of “offense” will ever completely alleviate the need for “defense”. But do we maintain offense as a strategy in our parenting toolbox? What is the ratio between time spent breaking up fights from a defensive position, and actively going on the offensive, to discuss harmony and Shalom Bayis and the means to achieve them? How often do we discuss our family values with our children at the Shabbos table? Or share stories with our children of personal victories from our own daily interactions that demonstrate the mentschlechkeit and proper middos we’d hope they’d exhibit in their own interactions with siblings, friends, or teachers?
Whether the impact we stand to gain or stand to give, we can’t afford to default to defense alone. As difficult as it is to make the time to handle crises before they ever emerge, we stand to gain immeasurably from maintaining that foresight. Keeping positive role models and mentors close as a matter of course can help us avert disaster later on. And playing that role actively for those who rely on us for guidance, can help us ensure the same in their lives as well.