Timeless Torah

Torah often conveys profound ideas by mere nuance. In describing the various sin offerings, brought for inadvertent wrongdoing, it lists different offenders; High Priest, Sanhedrin, (Supreme Court), Nasi (ruler), and an ordinary individual. While in three cases, the law is introduced by the Hebrew word (אם)“im-if,” for the ruler, Torah uses the word (אשר) “asher-when.” In other words, Torah perceives that a high priest, Sanhedrin, or an individual may err, but a Nasi probably will. Hence, the word “when he sins” and not “if”.

Nasi is the generic word for a ruler. It means the holder of political power. The nasi is not a priest serving in the Temple, nor is he a prophet, the mouthpiece of G-d. He is one who guides the affairs of the community, settles disputes and establishes the law. In Mishnaic times, the Nasi had a quasi-governmental role as representative of the Jewish people to the Roman government. Therefore, like kingship, it produced dynasties, unlike Torah leadership which went to the most able, and was not a privilege of birth.

The Jewish people have experienced many forms of government; judges, kings, and currently in Israel, elected officials. Why should this type of rule be particularly prone to error? Sforno cites the verse (Deut. 32: 15) “Yeshurun waxed fat, and kicked.” Those who have power over others tend to find their consciences dulled. They can become arrogant and haughty as in the aphorism, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

The commentators mention other motifs. The High Priest and Sanhedrin were involved with ‘holy’ affairs. The political ruler, by contrast, was involved in secular matters; war and peace, the administration of government, and international relations. He was more likely to sin as his day to day concerns were not religious but pragmatic.

Another factor is that neither the priest nor the Sanhedrin were answerable to the people. The king however relied on popular support. Without that he could be deposed. But this is laden with risk. Doing what the people want is not always what G-d wants. Thus, a political leader is more exposed to temptation and error.

There is another dimension. Politics is inherently an arena of conflict and the pursuit of power. In the short term these are zero-sum games. The more I have, the less you have. Seeking to maximize the benefits to my group, I come into conflict with others who wish the same for their party. Politics is the mediation of conflict backed with power. Whatever course a politician takes, it will please some and anger others. From this there is no escape.

Politics also involves difficult judgments. A leader must balance competing claims, and will sometimes get it wrong. One striking example involved Solomon’s son and successor, Rechovom. At that time the building of the Temple turned Israel into a vast labor camp. Solomon’s court and building and military campaigns were expensive and were sustained by excessive taxation. So the Israelites went to the son and said: “Your father put a heavy yoke on us…lighten the harsh labor …and we will serve you.” The older counselors advised, “Today…be a servant to these people…and they will always be your servants.”

In contrast, the younger men he consulted, replied, “Tell them… ‘My little finger is thicker than my father’s waist. My father laid on you a heavy yoke; I will make it even heavier.’”

Rechovom had to make a strategic decision. Should he strengthen his authority by a show of power? Or should he win the people over by lessening their burdens? The “Young Turks” argued Machiavelli’s rule that it is better for a ruler to be feared than to be loved.

It was the wrong advice, and the result was tragic. The kingdom split in two, and this was the beginning of the end. Always a small people surrounded by large and powerful empires, Israel needed unity and high morale. Divided, it was only a matter of time before both territories fell to outside powers.

Another sage, Rabbi Nehemiah had this to add on the hazards of communal leadership. As long as a man is concerned with personal piety, he need not be concerned with the community and is not punished on account of it. But once a man has donned the cloak of office, he may not say: it’s not my concern. If he does not prevent transgression, he is punished, and the Holy Spirit cries out, “You have put up security for your neighbor,” (Proverbs 6:1) meaning, you are now responsible for him.

The Talmud puts it bluntly. Whoever can prevent the members of his own house, his fellow citizens, or the whole world from sinning, and does not, is seized for the sins of that group. With power comes responsibility: the greater the power, the greater the responsibility.

There is no textbook for leadership. Every situation is different. A ruler may have to take decisions that a conscientious individual would shrink from doing: waging a war knowing that some will die, levying taxes that will leave some impoverished. In many cases, only afterwards will the leader know whether that decision was justified.

The Jewish approach to leadership combines realism in its acknowledgement that leaders inevitably make mistakes, idealism in its constant subjection of politics to ethics, and pragmatism to conscience. What matters is not that leaders never get it wrong, but by being exposed to Torah’s transcendent standards they are sufficiently honest to admit their mistakes.

Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai summed it up with a brilliant double-entendre on the word asher. “ “Asher-when “a leader sins,” also signifies, “ “Ashrei-happy “is the generation whose leader is willing to acknowledge his mistakes. “Dear Mr. Olmert, “Please make us happy.