In the rhythm of God’s biblical calendar, we are now entering the sixth month—just one month away from Yom Teruah, the Day of Atonement, and the Feast of Tabernacles, or Sukkot. This seasonal shift is more than meteorological; it is spiritual. It reminds us that we are moving through divinely appointed times, and with that movement comes a call to examine how we live—and how we relate to one another.

The Torah portion, Shoftim, brings us face to face with the theme of judges and officers. In ancient Israel, judges (shoftim) were tasked with laying down the law, while officers (shotrim) enforced it. Both were essential for maintaining order and justice. But the real challenge has always been the same: knowing what is right is one thing; enforcing it without partiality, without bribes, and without hidden agendas is quite another.

Judging is arguably one of the most talked-about yet least understood topics in Scripture, especially among believers. Everyone quotes “Don’t judge me,” and church discipline is often met with resistance. Yet the Bible is filled with calls to judge rightly. There is an entire book called Judges, and when Israel had righteous judges, the land experienced years of peace. So why, in the 21st century, do we run from judgment rather than embrace it? The answer lies in our confusion between judging and condemning.

We make discerning judgments all day long—whether to cross the street, what to eat, whom to trust. These are not condemnations; they are evaluations based on wisdom. In the same way, Scripture calls us to make moral and spiritual judgments, but always with the goal of restoration, not destruction. Isaiah 11 tells us that the Messiah judges not by appearance or hearsay, but with righteousness. And in John 5 and 7, we are instructed to judge, but to do so with righteous judgment.

So how do we do that? How do we judge without falling into hypocrisy or harshness? Yeshua gives us the clearest blueprint in Matthew 7. He begins with the well-known words, “Judge not, that you be not judged.” But most people stop there, using it as a shield against accountability. Yet He continues: “For with what judgment you judge, you shall be judged; and with what measure you mete, it shall be measured to you again.” In other words, the standard we apply to others will be applied to us. If we are severe, severity will return to us. If we are merciful, mercy will be shown. This immediately calls us to self-reflection.

Then comes the famous illustration of the speck and the beam. We are so quick to point out the tiny splinter in our brother’s eye while ignoring the massive log in our own. This is the essence of hypocrisy. But Yeshua does not say, “Ignore your brother’s speck.” He says, “First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” The goal is not to overlook sin, but to address it properly—after we have dealt with our own. Once the log is removed, we are equipped to help our brother with clarity and compassion.

This is the missing piece in modern conversations about judgment. Seeing a flaw in someone else is not the problem. The problem is that we often approach them with unexamined hearts. But when we first humble ourselves, confess our own struggles, and ensure we are not projecting, we can then lovingly assist our brother or sister. The goal is healing, not humiliation; restoration, not rejection.

Paul echoes this in Galatians 6. He writes, “Brethren, if a man is overtaken in a fault, you who are spiritual, restore such a one in the spirit of meekness, considering yourself, lest you also be tempted.” Notice the progression: the one who is spiritual—walking closely with the Lord—takes the initiative. But they do so with gentleness, fully aware of their own vulnerability. Then Paul adds, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” This is not about domination or criticism. It is about carrying each other’s weight when we stumble, so that together we can walk in freedom.

Paul also warns against self-deception. If we think we are something when we are nothing, we fool only ourselves. Instead, we are to prove our own work, examine our own walk, and find our rejoicing in our own growth—not in comparing ourselves to others. The ultimate purpose of restoring a fallen brother is not to keep them dependent on us, but to help them bear their own burden once again. Every man must carry his own load, but we are called to come alongside during times of weakness.

This is what righteous judgment looks like. It is not condemnation; it is surgical precision driven by love. It is not looking down on someone; it is lifting them up. It is not about control; it is about freedom. Paul even says in 1 Corinthians 5 that we should judge those within the body of Christ—not to cast them out, but to call them back to truth. The world judges to punish; we judge to restore.

If we truly embraced this biblical model, the church would look radically different. The Hebraic community, the broader Body of Messiah, and even the world around us would experience a transformation. Instead of hiding our faults, we would invite accountability. Instead of saying, “Don’t judge me,” we would say, “Please judge me—because I want to be free.”

So as we approach the fall feasts and reflect on the holiness of God, let us also reflect on our responsibility to one another. Let us be people who first examine ourselves, then lovingly help our brothers and sisters. Let us judge with humility, with mercy, and with the goal of restoration. This is the kind of judgment that brings peace—shalom—to individuals and communities alike.

Have a Shalom-filled day, and judge—judge righteously, judge to restore.