Mishpatim:
Torah portion: Exodus 21:1-24:18
Haftarah: Jeremiah 34:8-22, 33:25-26
Over the last few portions of the Torah, we see a grand script worthy of epic movies (in fact, it has been the subject of many movies). In a few weeks, we’ll see the episode of the Golden Calf. Last week was probably the highest high in the Torah -- a Revelation that everyone in the nation, not just a select few, experienced.
And it's followed by . . . . Mishpatim, one of the longest Torah portions, containing an exhaustive list of over 50 separate mitzvot (commandments). Included are laws regarding kidnapping, personal injury and property damage, occult practices, helping the poor and vulnerable, returning lost objects, and alleviating the suffering of animals. Indeed, a rather large portion of the Talmud is devoted to clarifying and expanding these laws (most of Tractates Bava Kama, Bava Metzia, Bava Basra, Sanhedrin, Makkos, and Kiddushin are all built off of verses in Mishpatim).
Why the detour? Why the disconnect, going from the grand events of the giving of the Ten Commandments to the mundane rules of agency, property damage, and the like?
(continued)
One Little Word
Rashi points out that there’s no disconnect at all. Noting that the portion starts off with “And these ordinances…” Rashi explains:
Wherever it says, “these” [in the Torah,] it [(this word) is used to] separate from what has been stated previously. [Where it says,] “And these,” [it means that] it is adding to what has been previously stated (Tanchuma Mishpatim 3). [Thus] just as what has been previously stated [namely the Ten Commandments,] were from Sinai, these too were from Sinai.
In other words, Rashi is saying that the "and" which starts our parsha makes a huge difference as to how we understand the the entire parsha. That the "and" tells us, specifically, that this is connected to the prior parsha.
Rashi is explaining that, on a spiritual level, “thou shalt not steal” and the other of the Ten Commandments are equivalent to the laws involving an ox that causes damage to another’s property.
There are two very important, and related, implications of this.
G-d is in the details.
The first is that, as the famous idiom states, “G-d is in the details.”
This is one thing that distinguishes Judaism from many other religions. Judaism posits a grand vision, but also fills in the details. It’s not enough to say that we need to be nice, be fair in business matters, and we shouldn’t harm others – for the obvious reason that when you get to the nitty gritty details, there are legitimate differences as to what exactly “fair” means.
Many thinkers can envision the contours of a just and fair society. But the vision alone isn’t enough. Society is messy and complicated. There will be people who want to “game the system.” There will be crooks. There will be contracts written and businessmen who genuinely disagree over the meaning a particular clause, one upon which might depend millions of dollars. There will be good people who will succumb to various temptations. There will be accidents and honest differences about what occurred.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks makes a similar point:
But neither historical events nor abstract ideals - not even the broad principles of the Ten Commandments - are sufficient to sustain a society in the long run. Hence the remarkable project of the Torah: to translate historical experience into detailed legislation, so that the Israelites would live what they had learned on a daily basis, weaving it into the very texture of their social life. In the parsha of Mishpatim, vision becomes detail, and narrative becomes law.
Suppose for example, person A injures person B. Person A should pay for damages. That’s obvious. But what, exactly, are damages? Clearly B should be compensated for, say, medical expenses, and it would seem fair that B be compensated for any resulting unemployment. But how much further should society require of person A? Should B be compensated for something difficult to measure, say, pain? Or for something that might seem pretty vague – such as embarrassment? There may be honest disagreement about that while envisioning or implementing a “fair” society. Just as not compensating for an injury is not fair, so, too, overcompensating for an honest mistake may be unfair. Judaism addresses these issues in voluminous details, and answers an unequivocal “yes” to those questions (Tractate
Bava Kama deduces these specifics from verses in this week’s parsha).
It's all Holy -- or can be
But there is another, deeper, implication of asserting that “G-d is in the details,” and it is this:
Generally speaking, when people think about “what is holy” they think about those actions that are between a person and G-d. Praying is holy. Lighting candles for Shabbat is holy. Observing a fast on Yom Kippur is holy.
But Judaism posits – and this is part of what underlies Rashi’s comment – that what others would call mundane day-to-day actions can also be holy.
Consider what we do most of the day. I’d wager that many of us spend a good portion of our waking hours eating and communicating with others. Judaism tells us that G-d is in those details, too. That there is a holy way to eat (e.g., not mixing milk and meat, which is also in this parsha), and a holy way to speak (e.g., not speaking ill of others, even when what you say is true).
We live in a time where we can hit a drive thru, order food, start munching on our sandwich trying to make the next green light, and fiddle with the radio, getting some nice tunes, all at the same time. And yet, what we’re eating is, in a quite literal sense, a life sustaining act. Judaism posits that we take a moment, be “present in the moment,” so to speak, appreciate that the earth can produce things that literally sustain our life, before we scarf down that burger.
In a broader sense, this parsha is telling us, and Rashi is emphasizing, that those mitzvot between people (which fills most of this parsha) are just as important, and come from the same source as, those mitzvot between a person and G-d. In fact, Judaism posits that the mitzvot between people are even more important than between a person and G-d. Sinning against G-d is bad enough. But a sin against a person is worse, because it is a sin against the person and against G-d.
Rabbi Shraga Simmons puts it this way:
The spiritual high of Sinai is gratifying, but it doesn't solve one problem of the world in which we live. Spirituality is not achieved by meditating alone on a mountaintop or by learning in an out-of-the-way monastery. Jewish spirituality comes through grappling with the mundane world in a way that uplifts and elevates.
Jews don't retreat from life, we elevate it. On Friday night, we raise the cup of wine ― not to get drunk ― but to make Kiddush and sanctify the Sabbath day. Spirituality, says Judaism, is to be found in the kitchen, the office, and yes, even the bedroom.
G-d is, indeed, in the details, and how people act towards each other – even the little things – is an essential part of being holy.