We all have. But what does Jewish tradition tell us about facing those fears, especially when justice is on the line?

The Sifrei Devarim, a collection of legal interpretations on the Book of Deuteronomy, tackles this head-on. It starts with a powerful, direct command: "Do not fear any man." Now, this isn't some naive call to recklessness. It's a reminder of where true judgment comes from. The text anticipates our anxieties: "Lest you say: I am afraid of that man. He may kill my son, or burn my stacks, or cut down my plants…" Sound familiar? The worries are real, the stakes are high. But the Sifrei insists we can't let those fears dictate our actions, because ultimately, "the judgment is G-d's."

This idea isn't isolated. We find it echoed in other parts of the Hebrew Bible. Take the story of Yehoshafat, King of Judah. II Chronicles 19:6 recounts his charge to the judges: "Take heed what you do, for you judge not for the man, but for the L-rd who is with you in the judgment." It’s a powerful reminder that earthly judges are acting as agents of a higher authority. Their decisions should be guided by divine principles, not personal fears or biases.

But what happens when we feel overwhelmed, when the case seems just too complicated? The Sifrei addresses this too, recounting a fascinating exchange between G-d and Moses. G-d tells Moses, essentially, "You think you're judging difficult cases? I'll show you a case so simple even the women can figure it out, but you'll be stumped!" What is it? The case of the daughters of Tzelafchad.

These women, as we read in Bamidbar (Numbers) 27:5, came before Moses seeking their inheritance rights. It was a complex legal question that challenged existing norms. And "Moses brought forth their judgment before the L-rd," meaning he sought divine guidance. The implication? Even the greatest leader, the lawgiver himself, needed to acknowledge the limits of his own understanding and seek a higher perspective.

This theme of human fallibility, even among the most righteous, continues with the story of Saul and Samuel. We find it in I Samuel 9 and 16. Saul, searching for a lost donkey, encounters Samuel, a seer – a prophet. Saul asks Samuel, "Tell me now, which is the house of the seer?" Samuel replies, "I am the seer." The Holy One, Blessed be He, basically says, "Oh, you think you’re the seer? I’ll show you."

How? By sending Samuel to find a new king from among the sons of Yishai (Jesse) of Bethlehem. When Samuel sees Eliav, Yishai's eldest son, he's immediately impressed. "Surely, before the L-rd is His anointed one!" But G-d corrects him: "Do not look at his appearance and at his tall stature, for I have rejected him. For it is not as a man sees. For a man sees to the (beauty of) the eyes, but the L-rd sees to the heart."

Did you catch that? Samuel, the prophet, judged based on outward appearances, on what he thought a king should look like. He relied on his own limited perspective. But G-d looks deeper, at the heart, at the inner qualities that truly matter. The story underscores the limitations of human perception. Even those with prophetic gifts can misjudge when relying solely on their own understanding.

What can we take away from these stories? Perhaps it's this: facing injustice, making difficult decisions, requires courage, humility, and a constant awareness of our own limitations. It requires us to look beyond surface appearances, to challenge our assumptions, and to remember that ultimately, true judgment rests with something far greater than ourselves. The task is daunting, yes, but we are not alone in facing it.