"Do not judge your fellow," says the Talmud, "until you have reached his place." What the Talmud is really saying, I suspect, is, "Do not judge your fellow, ever," since "his place" is a place where you can never truly be.
But we do judge our fellows all the time. Indeed we must--or at least appoint other people to do the job. We call these people "judges".
Deuteronomy 16:18-21:9 Week of August 27-September 2 
"Justice"--the very concept is said to be the Jew's contribution to the world. A glance at this week's Parshah shows why. Almost 3,300 years ago, Moses is speaking about equality before the law, due process in the investigation and prosecution of crimes, protection of criminals from vigilante vengeance, curbs on the behavior of kings, rules and ethics in warfare, and collective responsibility of the community for the safety of the transient wayfarer.
The Torah instructs that the judges and officers who executed Torah law are to be appointed wherever Jews live, but that the "cities of refuge" are to be established only in the land of Israel. Why this distinction between judgement and atonement, between the law and refuge from retribution? To explain this dichotomy, the Lubavitcher Rebbe examines the deeper significance of justice and repentance, the spiritual processes involved in judging and atoning, and the locale of the "cities of refuge" in the terrain of time and in the geography of the soul.
I carefully wrote out on a piece of paper what I wanted to tell and ask the Rebbe. Item No. 1: my 14th birthday was on this and this day, and I am requesting a blessing for a successful year. Two: my parents wanted me to take off from yeshivah and spend the summer in the mountains, at a bungalow colony, with the family; should I do so, or did the Rebbe feel it was preferable to remain in yeshivah? I was quite nervous as I took my place on line in front of the Rebbe's door. I had of course heard the Rebbe speak in public, but this was different, I told myself. This is yechidut. Would I be able to understand the Rebbe?
Some folks think of people much as we think of cars on a highway: Each with its own origin and destination, relating to one other only to negotiate lane changes and left-hand turns. For cars, closeness is danger, loneliness is freedom.
People are not cars.
"Don't use them until I ask about such things in New York," said the rabbi. "Someone in New York must have more experience with things like this than I do."Every time he returned from a New York trip, Gail would ask what he had learned. And each time he had "forgotten". But he would be sure to remember next time. In the meantime, "Make sure they are put away in a safe place. You haven't used them, have you?" This went on for months; then for years. We kept waiting for expert advice that never came. Somehow, life went on without Minton Twilight in Grey. |
 In the past two years many of the Web sites launched by the Lubavitch News Service have been marked by the unique and elegant style of graphic artist Yael Haneman... 
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