My brother Paul and I had a record of Bible songs when we were children. We listened to them constantly and even acted them out, sometimes for a very indulgent set of parents. We loved Samson: “His arms as big as melons, his shoulders hard as rock; he slew a mighty army with the jawbone of an ox…” Another favorite was about Daniel, which went “Dan-Dan-Daniel, came out of Israel, looked on the Good Lord and prayed. Mighty King Rosenfeld, and honored Daniel…”
Perhaps you have never heard of mighty King Rosenfeld. But we pranced around, four and five years old, never wondering about this mysterious, powerful king. Until of course, we got a little older and realized with hilarity and embarrassment that the song was “mighty kings rose and fell.”
Rose and fell indeed. At a time of unlimited power for Kings, the Torah was far wiser in its skepticism about human power. As our parasha tells us, Israel is (with some reluctance on God’s part) permitted to have a king, but with limitations. Kings may not multiply horses (lest they be tempted to go back to Egypt to enlarge the stock), may not set up a royal harem by multiplying wives and may not acquire too much silver and gold.
In other words, the Torah seeks to humble the king, because his position will elevate him. Therefore the king, while reciting the Amida, must remain bowed throughout the prayer (Ber. 34a). And he must both write a Sefer Torah and carry it with him and read it throughout his life (Mishna Sanhedrin 2:4).
As a result, the kings of Israel are famous for different characteristics than we might assume. David is famous for the Psalms and being the forerunner of the Messiah. Solomon is renowned for wisdom and having three books of the Bible attributed to him (Song of Songs, Proverbs and Ecclesiastes). Kings of Israel do not generally earn their reputations by the magnitude of their conquests. Kings of other nations, even when accomplished in other areas, are often remembered more for battles. Alfred the Great was a scholar who translated books and undertook legal reform, but in history books it was his war against the Vikings that made him great. Omri in the Bible rules for over a decade and is undefeated but deserves fewer than 10 verses because he did “evil in the sight of the Lord.” (I Kings: 16).
Underlying this deliberate reigning in of those who reign is a philosophical assumption that is basic to the Jewish tradition. Kings in the ancient world acted like Pharaoh in the Torah – capricious, often cruel, and unlimited in the scope given to their appetites and preferences. Herodotus tells us that Cambyses, son of Cyrus the Great, wanted to marry his sister. He asked the wise men of Persia to find him a law permitting it. They investigated and reported that they could not find a specific law allowing him to marry his sister, but they did find a law stating the king could do whatever he wished.
Therefore when the Jews are liberated from Egypt it is because they are not to be slaves to a human king, but to the King of Kings, in other words, God. For the title of “king” does not apply properly to a single human, but to all humans. A.J. Heschel was fond of quoting the hassidic bromide that the greatest sin a human being could commit is to forget that he is a king. Everyone, men, women, children, are all royalty, for we are all made in the image of God. The round challah on Rosh Hashanah reminds us of a crown; each of us begins the year with a crown, not only to declare God’s sovereignty, but our own.
So perhaps there was more wisdom in a child’s mistake than we realized at the time. When Rosenfeld sits down at the table, he is indeed mighty king Rosenfeld, along with everyone else in the Rosenfeld family, wherever they may be. As are well all. That is indeed worth singing about.
The writer is Max Webb Senior Rabbi of Sinai Temple in Los Angeles and the author of David the Divided Heart. On Twitter: @rabbiwolpe.