Our Call for Divine Justice

Your throne is established with lovingkindness, and You are seated on it in truth. It is true that You are the judge . . .

The evocative prayer of Unetaneh Tokef portrays G-d as the judge perched on the

seat of judgment. Emet, truth, is a dominant feature. G-d is “seated” in judgment with truth, and, in the words of the prayer, it is b’emet, with truth, that we acknowledge G-d’s comprehensive array of forensic tasks: He is the judge, the one who presents evidence, the knower, and the witness.

Yet, the prayer tells us that the seat of truth and judgment is also established with chesed—lovingkindness. The combination of truth and kindness is presented as if it were obvious. Ordinarily, though, there is an irreconcilable tension between them. 

In Australia some years ago, a farmer fell on hard times due to a series of natural disasters. In desperation, he made false claims to the government for payments to which he was not entitled. The judge sentenced him to two years in prison. In responding to a plea to consider the farmer’s desperate circumstances, the judge repeatedly said: “I am not here to dispense mercy. I am here to dispense justice.” 

Recently, “truth in sentencing” has become the campaign call for harsher sentences and penalties. And emet, truth, is a pillar of human justice. But as G-d sits in judgment over Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, we appeal to divine, rather than human, justice. And we pray that for the sake of humanity, mercy will prevail.

In the final moments of Yom Kippur we read the Biblical narrative that most dramatically reflects the gulf between human and divine justice. Jonah is a man of emet, of truth. Indeed his name is Jonah the son of Emet (Amitai). Jonah struggles with G-d’s propensity for compassion and His willingness to forgive the wickedness in Nineveh.

Jonah flees his mission and embarks on a suicidal journey rather than be the agent of G-d’s less-than-truthful compassion. Having been transformed by his miraculous and merciful escape, Jonah is taught a powerful lesson by G-d. His own compassion for a withered plant is exposed as self-indulgent compared with G-d’s concern for creation—both the human and animal kingdoms.

For me, as a Jewish judge, the tension between truth and kindness is constant. The challenge, as one eminent judge wrote, “is to perform [one’s] functions according to law, including, on appropriate occasions, responding with kindness or leniency.” I have recalled those words more than once, including a time I had to sentence a mother of four children for attempted murder in tragic circumstances. 

As humans, we can only strive to emulate the divine. 

This article appears in the Autumn/Winter 2025 issue of Lubavitch International, to subscribe to the magazine, click here.