והי’ כשבתו על כסא ממלכתו וכתב לו את משנה התורה הזאת על ספר מלפני הכהנים הלוים
והיתה עמו וקרא בו כל ימי חייו למען ילמד ליראה את ד’ אלקיו
לשמור את כל דברי התורה הזאת ואת החקים האלה לעשותם
And it shall be as he sits on the throne of his kingdom, he shall write for himself two copies of this Torah in a book, from before the Priests and Levites. And it shall be with him, and he shall read from it all the days of his life, so that he shall learn to fear God, his Lord, to observe all of this Torah and these decrees to observe them.
Every Jewish king, we learn in this week’s Parsha, must maintain two copies of the Torah, one of which is to be kept in the royal treasury, and the other to be kept on his person at all times. The reason, we are told, is so that “he shall read from it all the days of his life, so that he shall learn to fear God etc.
Yet if the idea is simply to facilitate the king’s learning Torah, we wonder, why is the treasury copy necessary? Indeed, what use can a Torah scroll be while kept locked away in a vault altogether?
Perhaps the answer lies hidden in the carefully chosen words the Torah uses while presenting this Mitzvah. The king, says the Torah, is to read from the Torah scroll to learn to fear God. Odd, isn’t it? Wouldn’t we assume that someone worthy of being appointed king would already know to fear God? Sure, he may need a refresher course from time to time, but isn’t stating that he must learn to fear God a bit disrespectful? And all the days of his life, no less?
Apparently, the message here is as follows. As king, one must exude confidence, project stateliness, and inspire awe. To do so, one must truly be confident in his own greatness and likewise possess the resources to support his claim of exceptionalism. It is this state which the Torah here refers to as “sitting on the throne of his kingdom”, and it is for this purpose that every king maintains a treasury to demonstrate the extent of his wealth.
While this holds true for all monarchs, there is an additional dimension in play when it comes to the Jewish king, who reigns over a nation which measures greatness in spiritual terms. The king must exude confidence in his spiritual legitimacy as a leader, project moral gravity in all the actions he takes, and inspire awe by virtue of his sheer character greatness. In order to do so, he must be heartened by all the Torah he has learned and take pride in the spiritual heights he has achieved, so that they may provide him with the backbone to lead and the willingness to be strong. It follows that this is what the Torah he is to keep in his treasury represents- the spiritual wealth which legitimizes his rule.
Inherent in this vital aspect of kingship, however, lies the danger of stagnancy. Backed by the unmatchable riches of his treasury, a king may grow a dynamic, complacent in his state of unchallenged supremacy. Such a state of apathy can only bring ruin upon himself and his nation. It is thus vital that the king nonetheless retain an element of perpetual youthfulness and impetus despite his poise and self-assuredness, so that he continually remain on the upswing. To this end, the Torah instructs the Jewish king to write for himself a second Torah, forever studying from it to learn to fear God and do Mitzvos. He must constantly approach Torah with the fascination of one first become acquainted with Godliness and the enchantment of a student drinking in the words of his master for the first time.
It is only with these two “Torah”s that the king can truly be successful. Lacking the confidence in his abilities and achievements, he cannot possibly lead or inspire. Lacking the drive to conquer new horizons, he cannot possibly animate or excite.
And we are all kings. We all need to lead our armies of potential to the fortress of success. Yet we cannot possibly do so if we continually vacillate between doubting our ability and hibernating in our achievements.
Know that you have done much. Be confident that you can do much more. Then do it.
