The Widow Never Reached the Bribed Judges Bench
A woman found her stolen kettle warming on the judge's own stove. By the time a widow heard what the court cost, she had stopped walking toward it.
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The Kettle on the Judge's Stove
A woman in Jerusalem had her kettle stolen, and she did what a person does. She went to the judge.
It was sitting on his stove. Her kettle, on his fire, with water in it already going warm for his meal. She stood in the doorway of a house where the man paid to recover stolen property was heating his dinner in it.
A man from the same city lost his cloak and made the same walk. He found it spread flat across the judge's bed, the folds falling exactly the way they had fallen off his own shoulders.
Neither of them said anything worth recording. There was nothing to argue. The evidence and the bench were in the same room, and they went home.
The Colt Overturned the Lamp
Another woman took no chances. Before her case was heard she sent the judge a lamp of solid silver, and she went to bed certain of the verdict.
Her opponent sent a colt of gold.
In the morning the ruling came down against her and she could not keep quiet. My lord, she said, let my case shine before you the way that silver lamp shone.
He did not even pretend to be embarrassed. What can I do for you, he told her. The colt has overturned the lamp.
Wood, Water, and an Empty Purse
The poor did not get the courtesy of an auction. A man came up to Jerusalem to have his case heard, and the judge looked at him and gave him an errand instead. Split me two loads of wood. Fill me two jars of water.
He split the wood. He carried the water. He came back and was sent out again, and the days ran on, and the money he had brought for the journey ran down to nothing. Then he went home with his hands cracked and his case exactly where he had left it.
She Turned Around on the Road
A widow met him coming out.
What happened with your case, she asked him. He told her the truth. I spent everything I had and got nothing.
She stood on the road and did the arithmetic out loud. If this is what they do to a man, what will they do to me?
Then she turned around. She kept the last coin in her hand for bread instead of spending it on a bribe that would lose to a larger bribe, and she never reached the bench at all. That is how the prophet's sentence about Jerusalem came true in the flesh. The orphan's case went unheard. The widow's plea never came before the bribed judges, because she stopped walking toward their door.
They Sent for the Guardians
Years later two rabbis were sent out to inspect the towns of the land. They came into a town and asked the people to bring out the guardians.
The townsmen went and fetched the captain of the night watch and the constable, both of them carrying spears.
These are not the guardians of the town, the rabbis told them. These are the ones destroying it. The guardians of a town are the ones who keep watch over it day and night, the men who teach the children their letters and their Mishnah, and a town that will not pay them is a town already being pulled up by the roots.
The nations understood this better than the towns did. When they came to the philosopher Avnimos and asked whether they could take Israel on, he did not talk about armies. Go around to their synagogues and their study halls, he said. If you hear children chirping their lessons in there, you cannot touch them. If the rooms are quiet, they are yours. The voice is the voice of Jacob, and the hands only get their turn when the voice stops.
The Field Kept Its Sheaves
The land played its own game with them.
You think you are flattering it with your labor, and all the while it is flattering you. It shows you standing grain and does not show you the sheaf. It shows you the sheaf and hides the threshing floor. It shows you the floor and keeps back the heap. A farmer can walk his rows in a good year and still come home to nothing at the end of the count.
Three things had been broken to earn that. The written Torah and the oral Torah, both transgressed. The statute of the tenth, changed. And the covenant of the fathers, snapped like a cord.
The night watch went on making its rounds with the spears. The threshing floors stayed swept and empty. And somewhere on the road out of the city a woman kept walking with one coin in her fist, no case, and nowhere to bring it.
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