[I may tweak it a bit before tomorrow, but here is my d’var Torah for this week!]
This week, we read Parshat Shoftim, and there’s a phrase in this parsha that I would argue is an iconic part of Jewish culture. I’ve seen this line on t-shirts, in calligraphy art on social media, and written on signs at protests. It’s a three-word phrase that you’ll find in Deutoronomy 16:20: TZEDEK, TZEDEK TIRDOF. “Justice, justice shall you pursue.”
It’s just three little words – and two of them are the same word – but there’s been a lot of conversation and debate about these three words over the centuries. If you want to go down a really interesting philosophical rabbit hole, I recommend doing some research into what various rabbis through history have said about why the word “tzedek,” justice, is said twice here.
But today, I want to focus on that third word: “tirdof.” Pursue. Moses tells the Children of Israel to pursue justice, and I find this word choice very interesting. Moses doesn’t say, “Be just.” He doesn’t say to “maintain a just society” or to “achieve justice.” He says to pursue justice.
But think about what it means to pursue something. We pursue what we don’t have. Law enforcement pursues a criminal because the criminal has not yet been caught. A lover pursues the target of their affection because they are not currently in a relationship. We pursue happiness because we aren’t currently happy with our circumstances. If we had the thing, then we wouldn’t need to pursue it. “Tzedek, tzedek tirdof” focuses on the ACTION of pursuing justice, not the presumed end goal of having a society where you know without a doubt that things are just.
And thinking about this reminded me of a question I hear a lot in conversations about social justice issues. The question is, “When will it be enough?” When I talk with people about the need to have more movies starring people of different races and religions, I hear the question, “But how many diverse actors do we need to cast before we know we have enough representation?” Or when the conversation is about the need to use more accurate and inclusive language for people of different genders and sexualities, I hear the question, “But when will we know we’re saying the right thing that will include absolutely everyone?” These are just a few examples, but whether you’re talking about language, or hiring practices, or benefit programs and charity, someone always asks, “when will it be enough?” When will we have done enough? When will we finally get to stop thinking about this whole “making a better, safer, fairer and more just world” and just relax and enjoy life?
Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, of blessed memory, once said that she was often asked how many of the court’s nine judges should be women. At what point would there be enough women on the bench? In response, Justice Ginsburg would always say, “When there are nine.” Now the person who asked her this question would be shocked by this answer. How could it be fair for all nine Supreme Court Justices to be women? To this, Justice Ginsburg replied, “When there were nine men, nobody raised a question about it.”
Justice Ginsburg’s answer points out the logical fallacy of the question. There is no “enough.” There is no completely ideal lineup of Supreme Court Justices who will definitely, completely, truly represent the best interests of all Americans. BUT – even though this perfect court is an impossibility – we SHOULD continually strive to make the Court MORE representative and MORE able to better serve all Americans, no matter what our heritage is, and provide justice for all.
Now, there are people in the United States who believe that we have already achieved a society with justice for all. But there are many other people who know from personal experience or from the experiences of their friends and family that this is not yet true. I think it’s a dangerous thing to believe that we already have justice, because if we believe we have it, then we won’t pursue it.
If we look at justice as something that we must pursue, then we open our eyes to the possibility we don’t have it. We open our eyes to discover the ways we are missing the mark. The creation of a just world is continual. I like to think about my two-year-old niece. I am driven to do my part to make sure that she grows up in a world which is good, kind, and fair. But I’m also looking forward to the day she comes to me and says, “Hey, Aunt Sophie, that thing you just said that you think is an okay thing to say? It’s actually harmful, and here’s why.” She will see the ways that I miss the mark, that I have fallen short of creating a community that is good, kind, and fair to everyone. And I am genuinely excited to find out what I could do better!
We are just a few weeks away from Yom Kippur, and we are a full week into the month of Elul, this time where we take account of ourselves and our behavior and figure out what we need to make teshuvah for. And Elul comes every year. We’re never done with it. As Jews, we are continually pursuing our best selves, our most tzedek behavior, our truly just society. We will never reach the point where we don’t have to pursue it anymore. And that might be a good thing. I think that’s why Moses uses the word “tirdof” – so we can’t assume that we’ve achieved tzedek, because the point is to pursue it.
In Torah it is taught to us many times that exile to the wilderness is the greatest punishment we Israelites can face. It is the most severe form of physical, emotional, and spiritual isolation. This Pesach, 74 years into the apartheid occupation of Palestine by Israel, I challenge us to view exile into the wilderness as both a warning and true blessing for our people.
It is a warning in that if we let capitalism, imperialism, insidious greed, heteronormativity, disregard for those with disabilities, nationalism, land abuse, and white supremacy win - it will be the world's demise. The impact of climate disaster created from this way of life will leave us truly, truly exiled. We will bury so many loved ones and watch so much untimely mass death we will lose count of each other and the passage of time. We will lose all we know to disaster. Whole countries and states may find their way to the bottom of the ocean. We will be left with nothing but ourselves and our grief. Not our fancy ritual items, places of worship, material goods and luxuries - but us, alone.
It is a blessing in that if we choose to embrace our faith beyond the narrow place we exist when we accept Judaism as it was handed to us by imperialist, ableist, homophobic, transphobic, misogynist, patriarchal men - we will know true freedom. An exodus from the powers and systems that exploit, kill, divide, and destroy our people. That erase our rich and complex and beautiful histories, cultures, and identities. If we look at what we're given in scripture and demand that our faith rise to the occasion and meet us in justice, we can be free. To abandon Judaism at it was given to us is to embrace and call upon the people who were erased and left out of the histories and narratives; to expand the depths of the love and magic that were always contained within our faith and story. Judaism is justice, love, accessibility, inclusion, and full of erased miracles. We left the confines of our chains once, and we will do it again by walking back into the unknown with nothing but justice and community care to guide our faith. We will perform the greatest miracle by letting go of all we know.
I thought we might need a reminder. My website (see my pinned post) has a constantly updating page of causes I support and ways we can help. Please let me know if you want something added. I don’t have a huge audience but i try to help in all the ways I can.
what’s hitting particularly hard about ruth bader ginsburg’s death is that today is also rosh hashana - the jewish new year. today was supposed to be dedicated to rejuvenation and welcoming in a sweet new year, and instead, one of the most prominent and influential people in our community is gone. allow jewish people to mourn her death without bringing in whether or not you agree with her decisions. at least not on one of our holiest days. and don’t speak over jewish people when we tell you that you’re honoring her death disrespectfully. we don’t say rest in peace. we don’t put flowers on graves. we don’t sing songs about salvation. it doesn’t matter your intentions.
I have a character who is Jewish+spent some time in the foster care system. One of his goals in life is to adopt from the foster system because his own bad experiences led to him wanting more than anything to give kids who might not otherwise get the chance to a good home. Could that be considered tzedakah? This is mostly just out of curiosity because I've been reading some things about the concept and was wondering what types of things people consider tzedakah other than giving money
We fight together, voices raised. We won’t be silenced. We fight at the front lines in solidarity with our siblings and in solidarity with justice, with the world. You are there with me. We are never alone.
We fight together, voices quiet, organizing. We hide together, planning, educating, helping those in need. We fight in solidarity of learning, of creating. We are never alone.
We fight together, dismantling, sharing, loving, speaking. G-d is with us. Our communities are with us. We are never alone.