The Soul Judge

The Chasidic singer Motty Illowitz, well known for his art in composing heart-stirring melodies along with beautifully constructed Yiddish grammen (rhymes), wrote about this beautiful, heartbreaking story.

It involves a father whose daughter needs treatment and is running late. He is trying no to miss her appointment during rush hour traffic.

Skipping a few red lights and speeding

through a bus stop dropping off kids at school, the unthinkable happens—he knocks over a child, and unfortunately, that child never gets up again.

There's a heartbreaking funeral, a broken family, and a community reeling in shock. So many questions. A young life snuffed out—so innocent and pure. How does God allow this?

An arrest of the driver comes later that week. A trial date is set, the driver is found guilty,

and the day of sentencing arrives. The judge is ready to rule on the case. As he prepares to read his ruling, the father of the boy who was killed motions that he'd like to say something in open court before all those assembled.

With swollen red eyes from sleepless nights, he starts with a whisper that slowly turns into a roar. He stands in front of the driver who took his son and thunders, Where did you take my kid!? Why did you take my precious son!? To a place from which I will never see him again!?

Screaming, sobbing, and in indescribable pain, he turns to the judge and pleads, It’s enough that one family is forever broken—why break another? Just like I need my son, a daughter needs her father too. Please, I’m begging you, don’t put him away. Let him go free. It won’t bring back my son either. Please, Judge, hear my cries.

Stunned into utter silence, all eyes turn to the judge, who is visibly shaken as he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. After what seems like an eternity, he finally speaks. "In all my years as a Supreme Court judge, never have I seen anything like this. Forgiveness for the ultimate sin—without seeking revenge—while enduring such unbearable pain... The Jewish people must be on to something. I am a Jew and would like to return to my faith"

Lifting his eyes to heaven, he cries out, "Father, Heavenly Father, please forgive me for my sins, just as this father has forgiven in my courtroom"

We’re always looking for meaning and understanding, whether in times of tragedy or the

everyday struggles of life. It’s just how we’re wired.

And so back to my thought.

Obviously, I don't claim to understand heavenly calculations or the mysteries of suffering, but a lesson can be learned.

As Jews, we believe that each of us is here with a purpose and a mission—to make this world a better place. We also believe that our souls choose their mission before entering this world, and we are here to figure out what that is.

Now, I'd like to propose the following scenario:

The judge’s soul, in a previous lifetime, had done something unforgivable. Whatever it was, he was never able to forgive himself. He had come down multiple times to learn how to forgive, only to be disappointed yet again when he couldn’t find it in his heart to truly do so.

In His infinite kindness, Hashem looked around at the gathered souls and asked, Who is willing to help a fellow soul?

And of course, we Jews—always ready to help, especially in times of crisis—stepped forward. Hashem explained the situation of this poor soul and asked, How can we help him learn to forgive himself?

And so, they devised this scenario: The unthinkable would occur—a young child taken

from his family—to demonstrate that even in the face of the worst kind of tragedy, forgiveness is possible.

All souls took on a role to help this Neshomah. The father who killed the boy. The boy’s parents and extended family. The daughter with cancer. The child himself. All orchestrated and designed by Hashem.

This soul—the judge—and the rest of the cast descended into this world at the exact right time and place, interwoven with a million other unfathomable reasons, all in perfect harmony, ultimately crafted by the Creator and Designer of us all.

And when this scene finally played out in the judge’s courtroom, he was able to see ehat true forgiveness meant. He experienced it. His soul was finally able to forgive itself and become whole again.

And what’s amazing is that his soul was a judge, and it manifested itself in reality! Who was he judging? All his life—across lifetimes—he had been judging. Because he couldn’t forgive himself.

When we can’t forgive ourselves, we judge others.

Him sitting in that chair as a judge revealed the truth: It isn’t Hashem who judges us—it’s us.

We have a misconception of who Hashem is. We think of Him as the ultimate Judge, the One who punishes us for our sins, the One who seeks revenge.

But in reality, it is we who judge. We who mete out punishment. We who seek revenge. Not God.

Our souls know this, but we need to experience it firsthand to uncover the truth—so that, at last, our mind, body, and soul can align and become whole again.

And so, with each of us on our own journey, navigating the highs and lows of life, may we find the strength to forgive—ourselves and others. Let us heal, knowing that in the end, it’s through understanding, not judgment, that we truly find peace.

- איש