The Torah is for a constitutional monarchy. It places restrictions on the king and reminds him that he is not above the law.
A Quick D’var Torah: The Torah’s Limits on a King
Among the things covered in this week’s parsha are the laws governing a Jewish king. The Torah anticipates that at some point the Jewish people will say, “Let us have a king like all the other nations around us.” The Torah permits having a king—but under some very interesting conditions.
First, the king must be chosen “from among your brothers.” He cannot be a foreigner. But the phrase “among your brothers” means more than simply being Jewish. It reminds us that the king is essentially one of the people. Halachically, he is not a different kind of human being. He does not come from some inherently superior family. He is your brother, and in matters of halacha, he is bound by the same Torah as everyone else.
Then the Torah gives three remarkable limitations: he cannot have too many horses, too many wives, or too much gold and silver.
Why these three?
Start with the horses. In the ancient world, the great military technology was the horse-drawn chariot. A king who accumulated enormous numbers of horses could build a powerful standing army. The Torah is therefore limiting the king’s military power.
The king cannot simply decide to go to war whenever he wants. He has to persuade the people that there is a legitimate reason for fighting. And, just as importantly, he cannot build an army so powerful that he can use it against his own population.
This was hardly an unusual phenomenon in the ancient world. Throughout history, rulers have used their military forces not only against foreign enemies but against their own people in order to maintain and increase their power. The Torah is warning us about that danger from the very beginning.
Then there is the limitation on wives.
Remember how international diplomacy worked in the ancient world. One of the ways kings sealed treaties was through marriage. A king might send his daughter to marry another king or prince, creating a political alliance between the two kingdoms.
So if a king accumulates wives, he is also accumulating political relationships and expanding his ability to conduct foreign affairs however he wants.
But there is another danger. These women may come from idolatrous societies. The Torah is concerned that they could influence the king and pull him away from Torah.
And finally, the king cannot accumulate excessive amounts of gold and silver.
That one seems pretty straightforward. How does a king acquire money? Through taxes—and sometimes through corruption, bribery, and abusing his position.
The Torah is telling the king: You cannot become fabulously wealthy simply because you became king. You cannot squeeze the people for more and more money. You have to remember that the people have to live.
We see the consequences of ignoring this lesson later in Jewish history. After Shlomo HaMelech died, his son Rechavam was approached by the leaders of the northern tribes. They said, essentially, “Your father’s taxes were already extremely heavy. We understand that tremendous things were accomplished, including the building of the Beit HaMikdash, but please ease the burden on the people.”
Rechavam’s response was essentially: If you thought my father was tough, you haven’t seen anything yet.
That attitude helped trigger the rebellion and ultimately the division of the Jewish people into the kingdom of Yehudah and the ten northern tribes.
The Torah is therefore warning us about something very important: power tends to expand unless there are limits placed upon it.
And that brings us to the final requirement for the king. He must write a Sefer Torah and keep it with him. It is supposed to accompany him virtually all the time, except when circumstances make that impossible.
Why?
Because the king needs a constant reminder that he is also subject to the Torah.
He is not above halacha.
He is not above the law.
He is not a king because he is somehow intrinsically greater than everyone else. Remember the phrase: “from among your brothers.” He is your brother. He is part of the same nation, bound by the same Torah.
And that is what made the Jewish king so different from the kings of the ancient world.
In many ancient societies, if you approached the king and complained about his policies, the conversation could be very short—and potentially very dangerous.
But a Jewish king could be confronted by a prophet.
The Navi could come to the king and say, “You are wrong.”
And the king was expected to listen.
The prophets admonished kings precisely because the king was not above the Torah. He was accountable to something greater than himself.
The Torah is therefore creating a very different kind of government. It is not saying that we can never have a king. It is saying that our king cannot be like the kings of the other nations.
He cannot have unlimited military power.
He cannot accumulate unlimited political alliances.
He cannot become independently wealthy at the expense of his people.
And he must constantly carry the Torah with him, reminding him that there is a law above the king.
The message is remarkably relevant: The Torah does not merely ask who has power. It asks what limits are placed on that power—and whether the person in power remembers that he, too, is accountable.
Something to think about.
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