Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 3

Shalom, chaverim! It is SO good to see you! Pull up a stump, gather 'round the virtual campfire, because tonight, we're diving into some Torah that's going to light up your week like a thousand glow sticks! Remember those camp nights, singing until our voices were hoarse, feeling that incredible ruach? That's the energy we're bringing to tonight's session. We're going to take some ancient wisdom, dust it off, and see how it shines a light on our lives right now, right in our own homes. Get ready for some "Campfire Torah with grown-up legs"!

Hook

Who remembers that feeling when the Torah scroll came out in shul at camp? The hush, the reverence, the way the light caught the silver ornaments, the intricate embroidery of the mantle, and then, the moment the scroll was unveiled. It was like magic, right? Or maybe you remember singing, "The Torah, the Torah, the holy Torah, the gift that God gave to us..." (Go ahead, sing it with me! You know the tune!) That feeling of connection, of something ancient and powerful, yet deeply personal. Well, tonight, we're going to explore a text from the Rambam – the great Maimonides – that takes that very feeling and puts it squarely on the shoulders of the King of Israel. And guess what? We're going to see how we, in our own homes, are called to be kings and queens of our own domains, carrying that very same torch.

Context

Tonight's text comes from a fascinating section of the Rambam's monumental work, the Mishneh Torah. Think of the Mishneh Torah like the ultimate Jewish GPS – a complete, organized guide to all of Jewish law, from the smallest mitzvah to the grandest concepts. The Rambam, Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, was a brilliant scholar, philosopher, and physician from the 12th century, and his work sought to make Torah accessible and understandable for everyone.

• What is the Mishneh Torah? It's a comprehensive code of Jewish law, written in clear, concise Hebrew, organized by subject matter. The Rambam's goal was to present all of Jewish law, as derived from the Torah and rabbinic tradition, in a logical and systematic way. It's like the ultimate "how-to" guide for Jewish living, covering everything from prayer and holidays to business ethics and, yes, even the laws pertaining to a Jewish king. It’s an incredible achievement, making the vast ocean of Talmudic discussion navigable for anyone with an earnest desire to learn. The Rambam didn't just list laws; he structured them into a coherent system, revealing the underlying principles and philosophy. This isn't just a dry legal text; it's a window into a structured, purposeful way of life, built around divine commands. He believed that every Jew should have a clear understanding of all the mitzvot, and his Mishneh Torah was designed to provide just that. It's a testament to his vision and his belief in the power of knowledge.

• "Kings and Wars" – Leadership for a Nation: The specific section we're looking at is called Hilchot Melachim U'Milchamot, which translates to "Laws of Kings and Wars." Now, you might be thinking, "Kings? Wars? What does that have to do with my life?" But hold on! This section isn't just about ancient monarchs and battles. It's a profound exploration of leadership, responsibility, and the qualities required to guide a community – large or small – according to Torah values. The king is the ultimate public servant, entrusted with the spiritual and physical well-being of the entire nation. His actions, his character, his very heart, have ripple effects across the whole community. When we talk about leadership in our own homes, we are talking about being "kings" and "queens" of our family units, guiding our children, setting the tone, and nurturing the spiritual health of our personal "congregation." The Rambam is laying out the blueprint for a leader whose entire being is consecrated to a higher purpose, a model that, while grand in scale, offers powerful lessons for our own spheres of influence.

• The King's Backpack – An Outdoors Metaphor: Imagine you're on a long, challenging hike, deep in the wilderness. You're the head madrich/a (counselor), leading a group of younger campers. You wouldn't dream of starting that journey without the essential gear, right? Your map, your compass, your first-aid kit, your water, your sturdy hiking boots. These aren't just "nice-to-haves"; they're absolutely critical for navigating the terrain, staying safe, and reaching your destination. The king, in our text, is like that head madrich/a for the entire nation. His "essential gear" for navigating the complex terrain of leadership, for making wise decisions, for guiding his people safely, is the Torah. It's not just a book he consults now and then; it's a constant companion, a vital tool he carries with him, always at the ready. It's the ultimate internal compass, the map for the moral wilderness, the first-aid kit for spiritual ailments. Just as a good guide never lets their map out of sight, the king must never let the Torah leave his presence. It's his most important piece of equipment, ensuring that he stays on the right path and leads his "campers" (his people) to their ultimate destination.

Text Snapshot

Let's take a peek at the Rambam's actual words from Mishneh Torah, Kings and Wars 3. Listen to how specific and demanding this is for the king:

"During a king's reign, he must write a Torah scroll for himself in addition to the scroll which was left to him by his ancestors... The second, which should not move from his presence except when he enters a lavatory, the baths, or other places in which it is not fit to read the words of Torah. When he goes to war, this scroll should accompany him. When he returns, it should accompany him. When he sits in judgement, it should be with him. When he dines, it should be opposite him, as Deuteronomy 17:19 states: 'It should accompany him and he should read it all the days of his life.'"

Wow! That's a pretty intense job description, isn't it? "Should not move from his presence!" "Accompany him" to war, to judgment, to dinner! This isn't just a once-a-week kind of thing; it's a constant, never-ending commitment.

Close Reading

Alright, chaverim, let's roll up our sleeves and really dig into these words. Remember that campfire feeling? We're going to tell stories and share insights that connect this king’s duties to our own lives, turning ancient law into living wisdom for our homes and families.

Insight 1: Your Own Torah Scroll – A Constant Companion

The Rambam tells us something truly remarkable about the king's relationship with Torah: "During a king's reign, he must write a Torah scroll for himself in addition to the scroll which was left to him by his ancestors." And if he didn't inherit one, he must write two – one for his treasury, and one "which should not move from his presence." This isn't just a symbolic gesture; it's a profound statement about personal ownership and constant engagement.

Let's unpack this. The king already has a Torah, the one passed down from his ancestors. This represents the inherited tradition, the collective wisdom of generations. For us, as former campers, this is the Jewish education we received, the family traditions, the holidays, the stories, the niggunim (melodies) we learned around the campfire. It's the foundation, the rich heritage we've been blessed with. It's incredibly precious, a spiritual inheritance that grounds us.

But the Rambam says that's not enough for the king. He needs an additional scroll, one he writes for himself. And this scroll is different. It's not just stored in a treasury; it's his "constant companion." This is where the magic happens for us, too.

What does it mean for us to "write a Torah scroll for ourselves"? It means actively, personally, and intentionally engaging with Torah in a way that makes it ours. It’s moving beyond what we were given to what we seek and create for ourselves. It's transforming inherited knowledge into living wisdom.

Think about it. When you actively participate in writing something, you invest yourself in it. It becomes deeply personal. You understand the nuances, the effort, the meaning behind every word. For us, this "writing" isn't with quill and parchment, but with our minds and hearts. It's the choice to delve into a weekly parsha (Torah portion), to read a chapter of Mishnah, to discuss a Jewish ethical dilemma, to find a d'var Torah (word of Torah) that resonates with your life and your challenges. It’s about asking your questions, seeking your answers, and making the Torah’s teachings relevant to your unique journey.

And this personal scroll? It's not meant for the "treasury." The treasury scroll, as Steinsaltz notes, is "in his treasury, and he does not use it at all times." It's important, vital for the nation's spiritual coffers, but it's not for daily, personal use. The second scroll, the king's personal scroll, is the one that "should not move from his presence." This is the Torah that becomes integrated into the very fabric of his existence.

Let’s look at the Rambam’s incredibly vivid examples of this constant companionship:

• "When he goes to war, this scroll should accompany him." Life is full of "wars," isn't it? Not just literal battles, but struggles, challenges, difficult conversations, moments of crisis, periods of stress. Whether it's a tough day at work, a conflict with a family member, a financial worry, or navigating a child's challenging phase, these are our personal "wars." How does Torah accompany us then? It means remembering the values: patience, compassion, justice, faith. It means finding strength in the stories of resilience, seeking wisdom from the ethical teachings, grounding ourselves in prayer. It means letting Torah be our moral compass when the world feels chaotic. It’s that internal voice, shaped by learning, that helps us choose empathy over anger, wisdom over impulsivity, and hope over despair.

• "When he returns, it should accompany him." After the "war," after the challenge, when we come back home, perhaps weary or exhilarated, the Torah is still there. It’s there to help us process, to reflect, to learn from the experience, and to reintegrate ourselves into the peace of home. It's about bringing the lessons learned in the thick of things back into our quiet moments, allowing them to deepen our understanding and guide our future actions. It’s about not leaving our spiritual growth at the "battlefield," but bringing it home to enrich our family life.

• "When he sits in judgement, it should be with him." As parents, we "sit in judgment" constantly! We make decisions for our children, mediate sibling squabbles, set boundaries, evaluate choices, and guide moral development. How does Torah accompany us in these moments? It means consulting Jewish values when making parenting decisions. Is it fair? Is it compassionate? Does it teach responsibility? Does it foster respect? It's about raising our children with a clear moral framework, rooted in the wisdom of our tradition, not just our gut reactions or what's easiest. It’s about being a judge who seeks truth, mercy, and justice, informed by a deep ethical understanding.

• "When he dines, it should be opposite him." This is perhaps the most intimate example. The dinner table is often the heart of the home, a place for connection, conversation, and nourishment – both physical and spiritual. Having the Torah "opposite him" at dinner means that even in moments of relaxation and social interaction, Torah is present. It’s about infusing our meals with Jewish wisdom, sharing a d'var Torah, discussing ethical questions, or simply creating an atmosphere where Jewish values are openly embraced and celebrated. It means that Torah isn't just for shul or formal study; it's a welcome guest at our family table, an integral part of our daily rhythm. It’s about making sure that the conversations, the atmosphere, and the values exchanged around the dinner table are uplifted and informed by Torah.

The Rambam concludes this section with the verse from Deuteronomy 17:19: "'It should accompany him and he should read it all the days of his life.'" This isn't just about possession; it's about active engagement. The king doesn’t just have a Torah; he reads it. He constantly learns, reviews, and internalizes its teachings. This transforms his inherited faith into a living, breathing relationship with God's word.

For us, in our homes, this means making Torah a dynamic part of our family culture. It's not enough to have Jewish books on the shelf or to send our kids to Hebrew school. It's about actively bringing Torah into our conversations, our decisions, our struggles, and our celebrations. It’s about modeling a personal, evolving relationship with Jewish wisdom for our children. What does your "personal Torah scroll" look like? How do you ensure it's your constant companion, whether you're navigating a "war" at work, making a "judgment" about screen time, or simply sharing a meal with your loved ones? This is the call to leadership, to truly be a "king" or "queen" in your own home, guided by the ultimate map.

Insight 2: Purposeful Leadership & The Heart's Compass

Our text continues by outlining a series of prohibitions for the king, focusing on areas of potential indulgence or distraction: "He should not amass many wives... He may not accumulate many horses... He may not amass silver and gold to keep in his personal treasury in order to boost his pride or allow him to glorify himself... The king is forbidden to drink wine to the point of intoxication... Similarly, he should not be overly indulgent in his relations with his wives."

The core reason for these restrictions is powerfully stated: "When the Torah forbade the king from accumulating many wives, its emphasis was that his heart not go astray as Deuteronomy 17:17 warns: 'lest his heart go astray.' His heart is the heart of the entire congregation of Israel." This is a crucial insight for any leader, especially in the context of family.

Let's dissect these prohibitions and translate them into our modern lives as "kings" and "queens" of our homes:

• "He should not amass many wives" (more than eighteen, according to the Oral Tradition). On a surface level, this is about polygamy, which is not a modern issue for most of us. However, the spirit of this law is about undivided focus and the dangers of a divided heart. In our modern lives, what are our "many wives"? These are the myriad distractions, commitments, and obsessions that compete for our attention, energy, and affection. It could be an all-consuming career, an addiction to social media, an excessive pursuit of hobbies, or an endless quest for external validation. Each of these can pull our "heart" in different directions, fragmenting our focus and diverting us from our primary responsibilities as leaders in our homes and families. The king's heart is meant to be singularly devoted to his people and to Torah. Our hearts, as parents and partners, are meant to be primarily devoted to our families and our core values. When we allow too many "wives" (distractions) into our lives, our focus becomes diluted, and our capacity for deep, meaningful connection diminishes.

• "He may not accumulate many horses, only what is necessary for his cavalry." Horses in ancient times represented military might, speed, and prestige. A king with many horses was showing off his power and wealth. What are our "many horses" today? These might be our status symbols, our relentless pursuit of "more" – more possessions, more accolades, a bigger house, a fancier car, or simply an insatiable need to "keep up with the Joneses." While having what's "necessary" for our "cavalry" (our family's needs, security, and well-being) is important, the prohibition is against accumulating excess for pride or glorification. This kind of accumulation can lead to an unhealthy obsession with materialism, a constant striving for external validation, and a focus on superficial gains rather than deeper, more meaningful pursuits. It can steal time and energy from our families, fostering a culture of consumption rather than contribution.

• "He may not amass silver and gold to keep in his personal treasury in order to boost his pride or allow him to glorify himself. Rather, he may collect only what is necessary to pay his soldiers, servants, and attendants." This prohibition directly addresses personal wealth versus communal good. The king's resources are not for his personal glory; they are for the needs of the community and the Temple. Any excess is to be given to the Temple treasury. For us, this is a powerful reminder about how we allocate our resources – our time, our money, our energy, our talents. Are we primarily focused on building our "personal treasury" for our own pride and glorification, or are we directing our resources towards the "Temple treasury" of our family's well-being, our community, and tzedakah (charity)? This isn't about being poor, but about being purposeful. It's about asking: "What are my resources for? Am I investing them in what truly matters, in building a strong, values-driven home, or am I hoarding them for self-indulgence and ego?" It’s a call to generosity, not just with money, but with our very selves.

• "The king is forbidden to drink wine to the point of intoxication... Similarly, he should not be overly indulgent in his relations with his wives." These restrictions speak to self-control, mindfulness, and being present. A king (or any leader) cannot lead effectively if their judgment is clouded by intoxication or if they are constantly consumed by personal indulgence. In our modern context, "intoxication" can come in many forms beyond alcohol. It could be excessive screen time, escapism through entertainment, or any activity that makes us less present, less engaged, and less attuned to the needs of our family. "Overly indulgent" relations refers to a lack of balance, allowing even good things to consume us to the detriment of our other responsibilities. The Rambam even quotes Proverbs 31:3: "Do not give your strength to women." This isn't a condemnation of intimacy, but a warning against allowing any singular pursuit, even a legitimate one, to monopolize our strength and attention to the exclusion of other vital leadership duties. It's about balance, moderation, and intentional living.

The overarching theme for all these prohibitions is "lest his heart go astray." The king's heart, his inner compass, must remain true to his divine mission and his people. "His heart is the heart of the entire congregation of Israel." This is a profound statement. As parents, our heart is the heart of our family. Our emotional state, our spiritual focus, our values, our priorities – these directly impact the well-being and direction of our children and our household. If our heart is scattered, distracted, or overly indulgent, it can lead the "congregation" of our family astray. If our heart is anchored in Torah, in purpose, and in self-restraint, it provides a stable and inspiring foundation for our home.

The Rambam even goes into the king's power to execute those who rebel or shame him. While these are not literally applicable to family dynamics, they underscore the gravity of the king's role and the importance of respecting the authority he embodies, particularly when that authority is rooted in Torah. For us, it highlights the importance of upholding the "honor" of our family's values, of the Torah principles we choose to live by. It means not allowing rebellion against these core values to go unchecked, but rather to gently but firmly guide our family back to the path that reflects our shared spiritual compass.

This insight challenges us to examine our own lives. What are our "many wives," "many horses," or "personal treasuries" that might be distracting our hearts? Where can we practice more restraint and intentionality? How can we ensure that our "heart" – our core focus and values – remains steadfastly directed towards building a meaningful, Torah-centered home, serving our "congregation" with integrity and purpose? The king's blueprint for leadership, with its emphasis on constant Torah presence and purposeful restraint, offers us a powerful model for creating homes that truly reflect our deepest Jewish values.

Micro-Ritual

Okay, chaverim, you've heard the wisdom, you've felt the ruach of the text. Now, how do we take this amazing idea of the king's "constant companion" Torah and his purposeful leadership, and bring it alive in our own homes this week? We're going to create a little "Campfire Torah" ritual that anyone can do, either on Friday night or during Havdalah. It’s about making Torah a visible, tangible presence, and carrying its light with us.

Here’s a simple, yet powerful, micro-ritual to bring the king's "constant companion scroll" and the spirit of purposeful leadership into your home:

The "Table Torah" & The Week's Guiding Light

This ritual focuses on two moments: lighting up your Shabbat table and preparing for the week ahead.

Part 1: Friday Night – The "Table Torah"

1. Choose Your Scroll: Before Shabbat begins, select a small, meaningful Jewish book. This could be a Chumash (Bible), a book of Psalms (Tehillim), a collection of Pirkei Avot (Ethics of Our Fathers), a parsha sheet, or even a book of Jewish stories or reflections. This isn't the grand, ancestral Torah scroll, but your personal, accessible "companion scroll."

2. Give it a Place of Honor: As you set your Shabbat table, place this "Table Torah" directly opposite where you, the "king" or "queen" of your home, will sit. Make it visible, central, and accessible. It's not just decoration; it's an honored guest, a source of wisdom "opposite you," just like the king's scroll.

3. A Moment of Connection: At some point during your Shabbat meal – perhaps after the kiddush, during the main course, or even at dessert – pause. Take a moment to acknowledge its presence. You can simply gesture to it, or you can share a very brief thought.

   • Option A (Simple Acknowledgment): "Friends and family, tonight our 'Table Torah' is here with us, reminding us of the wisdom that guides our home. May we find inspiration in its presence this Shabbat."
   • Option B (Brief Reflection): Open the book randomly, or to a pre-selected page, and read one line, one verse, or one short paragraph. Then, offer a quick, personal connection. "This line about [justice/kindness/peace] reminds me that even as we relax on Shabbat, our values are always with us, guiding our choices."

4. Sing a Niggun: After your moment of connection, sing a simple, uplifting niggun (melody) or line. This helps solidify the spiritual atmosphere and connect to that camp ruach. Here’s a suggestion, one many of us learned at camp, simple and sweet, perfect for connecting to our inherited Torah:

   (Sing to a familiar, flowing melody, like "Oseh Shalom" or a simple, ascending/descending tune)

   "Torah tziva lanu Moshe, Morasha kehilat Yaakov!" (Torah commanded us Moses, An inheritance of the congregation of Jacob!)

   This line reminds us that Torah is both a command and a precious inheritance, something passed down through generations but also deeply personal to each of us. Singing it together anchors the moment.

Part 2: Havdalah – The Week's Guiding Light

1. Choose Your "Torah Thought": During Shabbat or just before Havdalah, reflect on the week's parsha, a lesson you learned, or even something inspiring from your "Table Torah." Select one specific thought, value, or intention that you want to carry with you into the upcoming week. This is your personal "Torah scroll" that will "accompany you to war, to judgment, and to dinner" during the week.
2. Write it Down (Optional, but powerful!): Grab a small notebook or a sticky note. Write down your chosen "Torah Thought" for the week. This physical act of writing reinforces the king's duty to write his own Torah.
3. Acknowledge and Carry: As you light the Havdalah candle, preparing to transition from the sacredness of Shabbat to the challenges of the week, hold your "Torah Thought" (either the written note or simply the idea in your mind).
   • Declare Your Intention: "As we step into the new week, I carry with me this 'Torah Thought' [state your thought, e.g., 'to practice patience with my children,' or 'to seek justice in my work,' or 'to find moments of gratitude daily']. May this wisdom accompany me and guide me, just as the king's scroll accompanied him."
   • Place it in Your "Treasury": If you wrote it down, place the note in a visible spot (on your fridge, by your computer, in your planner) or in a designated "spiritual treasury" spot in your home, where you can revisit it throughout the week. This acts as a tangible reminder of your commitment and your desire for Torah to be a constant companion.

This micro-ritual helps us internalize the Rambam's lessons. The "Table Torah" makes Torah a physical, honored presence in our home, reminding us that its wisdom is meant for our daily lives and family interactions. The "Week's Guiding Light" takes that wisdom and actively carries it with us into the "wars" and "judgments" of the coming days, transforming us from passive recipients of tradition into active "kings" and "queens" who live by its light. It's a powerful way to bring that camp ruach and that deep connection to Torah right into your home, making it a truly Jewish space, guided by purpose and wisdom.

Chevruta Mini

Alright, my fellow explorers of Torah, time to turn to your "bunkmate" – whether that's a partner, a friend, or even just your own inner voice – and ponder these questions. This is where the real learning happens, when we grapple with the ideas ourselves.

1. The Rambam says the king must write his own Torah scroll, in addition to the one inherited from his ancestors. For you, what does "writing your own Torah scroll" look like in your life right now? What's one specific way you can actively seek out and internalize Jewish wisdom this week, making it uniquely yours, rather than just relying on inherited knowledge or past experiences?
2. The king is forbidden from accumulating many wives, horses, or personal wealth for pride, because "his heart is the heart of the entire congregation." Thinking of yourself as a "king" or "queen" (a leader) in your home or family, what might be your "many wives" (distractions), "many horses" (status symbols), or "personal treasury" (self-serving resources) that could cause your "heart" (your focus, your values) to go astray from what truly matters for your "congregation"? What's one small act of "restraint" or redirection you could practice this week?

Takeaway

Wow, what a journey we've been on tonight! From the camp memories of a sacred Torah scroll to the Rambam's powerful laws for a king, we've seen how ancient wisdom can illuminate our modern lives. The king's demanding role, his constant companionship with Torah, and his purposeful restraint aren't just for monarchs on a throne. They are a blueprint for each of us, as leaders in our own homes and families.

We are all "kings" and "queens" of our personal domains, entrusted with the spiritual well-being of our "congregations." The call is to actively "write our own Torah scrolls" – to make Jewish wisdom a personal, living, and breathing part of our lives. To have it "accompany us" in every "war," every "judgment," and every meal. And just as importantly, to lead with a "heart" that is pure, focused, and free from the distractions of indulgence and pride, ensuring that our energy and resources serve the highest good of our family and community.

So, as we extinguish our virtual campfire tonight, let's carry that light with us. Let's remember that the Torah is not just a relic of the past, but a vibrant, constant companion, ready to guide us, inspire us, and help us build homes filled with purpose, wisdom, and love. Chazak, chazak, v'nitchazek! Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened!