The highest office in ancient Israel came with an unusual requirement. While other monarchs surrounded themselves with symbols of grandeur and divine authority, the Jewish king was commanded to carry something far more modest: a handwritten Torah scroll. He was to keep it with him always, reading from it daily until his death.
But why would the most powerful person in the nation need daily reminders of divine law? What was the reason for this law?
The Torah portion of Shoftim (Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9) establishes the framework for Israel’s judicial and governmental systems, including the appointment of judges, the role of the Levitical priests, and crucially, the laws governing kingship. When the text turns to the institution of monarchy, it delivers a striking mandate that would have seemed absurd to any ancient ruler:
The reasoning is explicit: his heart must not be lifted up above his brothers. The king, despite wielding ultimate earthly authority, must never forget his fundamental equality before God with every citizen under his rule.
This represents nothing short of a spiritual revolution. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks observed that the idea of a humble king would have seemed farcical in the ancient world. The archaeological record bears witness to this reality. The towering statues of Ramses II at Abu Simbel exemplify how the ancient world was littered with vanity projects designed to immortalize royal egos. These monuments to hubris stood as eternal testimonies to the intoxicating effects of absolute power.
Yet here stands Moses, delivering God’s blueprint for leadership that turns this paradigm on its head. The Jewish king must remain perpetually tethered to divine law, his authority constantly checked by the recognition that he serves under a higher sovereignty. The daily reading wasn’t mere religious observance; it was a mandatory dose of humility administered to prevent the inevitable corruption that accompanies unchecked power.
Consider the wisdom embedded in this commandment. Lord Acton’s famous observation that “absolute power corrupts absolutely” finds its ancient counterpart in this biblical legislation. The Torah scroll wasn’t just meant to remind the king of legal statutes—it was designed to preserve his soul from the spiritual poison of pride that inevitably accompanies supreme authority.
Moses himself embodied this principle perfectly. The man who split sea and spoke with God face to face was described as “very humble, more so than anyone on the face of the earth” (Numbers 12:3). True greatness and authentic humility are not opposites but partners. As the Sages taught in Pesikta Zutrata: “Wherever you find God’s greatness, there you find His humility.”
This wasn’t the humility of weakness or insecurity. Abraham called himself dust and ashes (Genesis 18:27), yet challenged God over the justice of Sodom’s destruction (Genesis 18:23-25). Moses declared, “Who am I?” when called to leadership (Exodus 3:11), yet boldly interceded for Israel, saying “If You will not forgive them, blot me out of the book You have written” (Exodus 32:32). These were among history’s boldest spirits precisely because their humility freed them from the need for self-aggrandizement.
True humility, as Rabbi Sacks explained, means security that doesn’t require constant validation from others. It means freedom from the compulsion to prove superiority through cleverness, success, or achievement. When you live conscious of God’s presence, you understand that you are not the center of your universe—God is. This recognition liberates you from the exhausting competition for status and enables genuine cooperation with others.
Humility transforms how leaders see those they serve. People are no longer mirrors reflecting their own greatness, but individuals with inherent worth and dignity. Secure in your identity before God, you can value people precisely because they are different from you, not despite it. This is what Ezra Taft Benson meant when he said that “pride is concerned with who is right; humility is concerned with what is right.”
The modern world desperately needs this ancient wisdom. Too many leaders in positions of power—whether political, corporate, or religious—make decisions that serve their self-interest rather than those they claim to represent. They surround themselves with sycophants rather than truth-tellers, build monuments to their own achievements rather than institutions that will outlast them, and govern according to opinion polls rather than moral principles.
The king’s Torah scroll stands as an eternal reminder that authentic leadership begins with the recognition that ultimate authority belongs to God alone. When leaders remember this truth daily, when they humble themselves before divine law rather than human applause, they become capable of the kind of selfless service that transforms nations and changes history. The most powerful lesson of Shoftim isn’t about governance—it’s about the character required to wield power without being consumed by it.
