Timeless Torah

Can there be a mitzvah that the Torah is ambivalent about? Apparently the commentaries believed so. Thus, while Maimonides regarded the appointment of a king as a bona-fide command, Ibn Ezra read it as an option. Abarbanel went further; he saw the passage as a mere concession to human weakness.
Indeed, the very wording hints to a hesitancy on the part of the Torah. First is the unique prologue which foresaw the Jews asking for a king in order to be, “Like all the nations.” This runs counter to the purpose of most mitzvohs, which was to make Israel distinctive and holy.
Second is the list of caveats placed upon the king: not to multiply wives, horses, or wealth. It was precisely these cautions ignored by King Solomon that led to his downfall. Being a Jewish king is fraught with danger. The moral: proceed on this mitzvah with caution.
Third is the strange fact that when the Israelites did eventually ask for a king, the prophet Samuel was greatly distressed. G-d told him that their offence was far worse: “It is not you they have rejected as their king, but Me.”
In an ideal world, it seems, there would be no king. Nowhere is this more poignantly spelled out than in the Book of Judges. These were not ‘judges’ in the contemporary sense. They were military leaders who emerged when the Israelites came under attack. One of the most successful was Gideon. So impressive was his campaign that the people asked him to be their king. His words go to the heart of the matter. “I will not rule over you, nor will my son rule over you. The L-rd will rule over you.”
Herein lies the Torah’s reservations about monarchy. It is not merely that, “Power corrupts.” It is rather that Judaism is about personal responsibility to G-d, without the need for a middle-man.
Individual freedom is one thing; a free society, another. Throughout history, the strong have attempted to use their power against the weak. The biblical paradigm for this was ancient Egypt, which turned the Israelites into slaves.
The ideal society, as the Torah conceived it, is one in which there is no ruler other than G-d. To be sure, that is not easily achieved. Three thousand years later we still struggle for that utopia. Its closest approximation is Shabbat, where no one can force anyone (not a employee, servant, or even a domestic animal) to work for them. Humans ruling over other humans are intrinsically anathema to the Jew.
However, the Book of Judges also records the pressures of reality. Time and again it states, “In those days Israel had no king. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” In a less than perfect world, the absence of government spells anarchy: the breakdown of law, the inability of a people to defend itself, and lapses into idolatry which individuals are powerless to prevent.
In the end, the Israelites discovered that a confederation of tribes led by ad hoc “judges” was not strong enough. A strong central government led by a king was one solution; even if it brought other dangers in its wake, namely, the king would seize sons for his army, confiscate property to maintain his court, etc.
This tension between, “The Lord will rule over you,” and, “Everyone did what was right in his own eyes,” is the defining problem of Jewish politics. While the biblical ideal is a constitutional monarchy, every form of government is a compromise. For even the best king is less than the direct rule of G-d.
As Torah was well aware of this tension, it created a new type of religious leader, the prophet, to challenge the corruptions of power. They were the world’s first social critics and were never willing to compromise on Hashem’s demands of justice and compassion. As an extra precaution, the Torah devoted extraordinary attention to the non-political aspects of society; setting the guidelines for public education, mandatory charity, and the virtues of self-restraint. Whereas other cultures focused entirely on the welfare of the state, Judaism’s primary interest was on society.
The cumulative effect of these uniquely Jewish institutions led to an exclusive phenomenon in history. The Jewish people having suffered exile, was able to sustain itself for two thousand years as a society without a state. This would have been impossible if statehood, power, and kingship were at the heart of Jewish values.
Maimonides was therefore right to see the appointment of a king as a command, but Abarbanel was no less right to see it as a concession to a less-than-perfect world. This issue is once again intensely relevant to the State of Israel today. Having been politically powerless for two millennia, we are again confronting the dilemma of power: How does one create a society that allows personal freedom, yet inspires moral purpose?
Yes we need politicians. But we also require their partners, the prophets/rabbis who would confront the political conventions of the day. The former will ensure the safety of our state, the latter will see to the wellbeing of our society. That is Israel’s ongoing task.