Parashat Mishpatim
February 13, 2010
29 Shevat 5770
Vol. 19 No. 19

This week's Halacha file: The Mesirah Dilemma

This issue is sponsored by Richard and Sue Kollmar in commemoration of the 1st Yahrzeit of Carolyn Antsis (Chaya Bat Yom Tov Gutman), the Savta of TABC Junior, Moshe Kollmar.

Layers of Defense
by Chaim Metzger

As the name Mishpatim suggests, this week’s Parashah deals with many laws. One of the most interesting of these laws regards self-defense.

‚Im BeMachteret YiMatzei HaGanav VeHukah VaMeit Ein Lo Damim‛ ‚If a thief is found breaking in and is killed you are not responsible for his death‛ (Shemot 22:1). However, if the sun was shining at the time, there is responsibility for his death. There is a major discrepancy with practical Halachic ramifications based on how to interpret these Pesukim. According to the simple understanding, it seems that the difference lies in whether or not there is clear visibility. Ramban expands upon this by saying that the phrase ‚when the sun shines‛ it means that there is light enough for you to see and recognize the thief. Rashi, however, comments based on the Gemara (Sanhedrin 72a) that the sun shining in this case is a metaphor, that just as the sun is a source of peace in the world, if it is obvious that the thief has ‚peaceful‛ intentions and doesn’t intend to kill then you cannot kill him. The difference isn’t literally day or night, or, put more broadly, visibility; rather, it’s the intentions of the thief.

The Raavad (critique to Rambam Hilchot Geneivah 9:8), in contrast to Rashi and the Gemara, writes that although the Chachamim interpret sunrise by way of metaphor, the Peshat, the straightforward understanding, still has significance. If someone robs a home during daylight hours when people are not usually home, that means they want to avoid a confrontation, and we Halachicly conclude they do not intend to kill. But if thieves act at night when people are home, they are not trying to avoid human contact, and therefore, are considered likely to kill. The Maggid Mishneh attacks the Raavad, citing other Halachot in which we rely upon the Derash, the expounded explanation, instead of the Peshat to arrive at a Halachic conclusion. If we follow Derash for Halacha, why does the Raavad feel it necessary to contradict the Chachamim and utilize the Peshat understanding?

Rav Amnon Bazak suggests that the Raavad accepts that the Halachah follows the Derash, but there is still room for the Peshat to be utilized. Raavd believes that Chazal did not intend to completely exclude the Peshat from Halacha, but rather, chose to expound upon it, adding to it. Chazal explain that there is more to consider before taking another person’s life than the time of day—just because it is nighttime should not lead to the conclusion that the thief is dangerous and you may therefore kill him. An individual cannot use such arbitrary, circumstantial indicators to convince him to kill a fellow human being.

But the message here extends even beyond life and death situations. Too often, we find ourselves making cold, quick judgments and evaluations about others based on loosely-founded evidence with the goal merely to view the facts as we wish, our conclusions rooted more that which suit our best interests rather than that which the evidence truly suggests. Unfortunately we see such attitudes adopted on a national level, as the State of Israel regularly faces baseless charges whose ultimate goal is not to raise justice but to topple the country. Hopefully, if we improve our relationships with our peers in this regard, Hashem will look upon our nation favorably as a whole and remove these dangerous threats to our nation and state.

Piously Pragmatic
by Ariel Felsen

Amidst a large list of laws and Mitzvot, the Torah makes a seemingly out-of-place statement regarding Bnei Yisrael’s holiness. ‚VeAnshei Kodesh Tiheyu Li UVasar BaSadeh Treifah Lo Tocheilu‛ ‚And you will be holy men onto me. And you should not eat the flesh of Treif animals found in the field‛ (Shemot 22:30). Rashi explains that the first half of the Passuk is a promise to those who fulfill the latter half. If you refrain from eating Treif animals, then you will be holy to Hashem.

However, this raises an obvious question. Mishpatim is a Parashah that is brimming with various different Mitzvot, yet the Torah chooses the Mitzvah of Treifah from among them to associate with a special status of holiness. What is unique about this Mitzvah that it serves as the pathway to holiness? The Ramban explains that all the other Mitzvot mentioned in Mishpatim prior to this Mitzvah are civil laws; laws that are accepted as obvious and logical throughout society. Therefore, one may have initially concluded that all the Mitzvot must be simply pragmatic measures. As such, one could have easily concluded that there must be a health reason or some other logical explanation behind the prohibition of eating Treifot. Therefore, the Torah states that this Mitzvah is one of holiness. In other words, this Mitzvah is not a pragmatic measure, but rather, a spiritual one. It sheds light on the true spiritual nature of Mitzvot. The goal of Mitzvot is to further our relationship with Hashem and any related practical concern is merely secondary.

The Shulchan Aruch expands on this concept and says that even necessary and mundane physical acts, such as sleeping and eating, should be performed for a a spiritual purpose. The Shulchan Aruch writes (Orach Chaim 231) that every act should be done LeSheim Shamayim, for the sake of Hashem. How can a person sleep or eat for the sake of Hashem? One must realize the potential spiritual benefits within such actions— such rejuvenation allows one to continue serving Hashem. These physical acts serve a greater spiritual purpose when properly utilized. Additionally, we see in the Mechaber’s codification of Halachah many comparisons between a meal and a sacrificial offering. The food is compared to a sacrifice, and the table compared to a Mizbeiach, an altar. This furthers the idea of spirituality inherent within physical acts. This mundane physical act of eating has the potential to serve as a means of furthering us spiritually, giving us energy to engage in Mitzvot.

Often, in the hustle and bustle of the modern world, one never stops to consider the meaning behind the things that we do. Davening and Mitzvot become routines that we mindlessly rush through, never really stopping to consider the greater meaning of our actions. We must internalize this message and realize the necessity to stop and consider the greater meaning behind our actions. Hopefully, through this consideration the spiritual experience will become much more meaningful, furthering our relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu.

Upper-Class Slaves
by Benjy Koslowe

This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Mishpatim, can be translated as ‚the Parashah of Laws‛. Until this point, the Torah had yet to extensively delineate its laws. Sefer BeReishit is largely narrative, and while it as well as Sefer Shemot does contain several Mitzvot, the presentation of the bulk of the 613 Mitzvot begins with the Aseret HaDibrot, which we read last week in Parashat Yitro. Chazal viewed these Ten Commandments as broad categories which somehow encompass many other more specific and detailed Mitzvot. Now our Parashah begins the recording of these hundreds of laws, containing 53 Mitzvot. These include many examples of civil law as well as rules relating to Kashrut and various holidays, prohibitions against idolatry, and general moral principles. I would like to focus on the very first of these Mitzvot, which deal with the institution of Eved Ivri, laws regarding a Jewish servant.

The basis for these laws is the principle that if a man steals and has no way to pay when he is caught, he can be sold into servitude to another Jewish person for a maximum of six years, with the sum paid for his work going to repay his debt. At first glance, this seems to be simply a practical way for the thief to pay for his crime. But, if this is just about repaying the victim of a theft, why are the laws regarding an Eved Ivri separated from all the other laws regarding stolen objects, which are enumerated 25 Pesukim later? Furthermore, why does the Torah begin the recording of the bulk of its hundreds of Mitzvot with this particular set of laws? Why not begin with some more general principle, such as the notion of equal justice for all or the Mitzvah of lending money to the poor, both of which are included in Parashat Mishpatim? Interestingly, the the Sefer HaChinuch, which tries to explain the fundamental ideas in each Mitzvah, does not even include the victim’s compensation as one of the root ideas in the institution of Eved Ivri. What, then, is its primary purpose?

A careful reading of the laws of an Eved Ivri shows that there is a great deal of emphasis placed on insuring that he be treated well. For example, if the servant has a family, the owner must provide accommodations and support for the servant’s family as well. We are also taught that the servant cannot be asked to do humiliating work. Ideally, he should be employed to do work for which he was trained, and which he did previous to becoming a slave. The Rambam (Hilchot Avadim 1:7) points out that, although one can ask an ordinary worker to do all sorts of work, the Torah was especially concerned about the self-image of the Eved Ivri, because he is already humbled by his current situation as a servant. The need to ensure that he is not treated as a second-class citizen goes so far that the Gemara (Kiddushin 20a) suggests if there are not enough pillows in the household for the master and the Eved, the available ones should go first to the servant and his family. Summing up all the various obligations of the master to the servant, the Gemara there concludes: ‚One who acquires a servant has, in effect, acquired a master‛. Finally, when the six years of work are concluded, the master is commanded: Do not send him out penniless; rather, send him out with a grant of items like livestock and grain that will sustain him in the future.‛

It seems fairly obvious that the institution of Eved Ivri was intended not only to repay a debt but, perhaps even more importantly, to rehabilitate a person who had sunk to a very low level and to make him independent once again. In fact, the Ramban (on Shemot 21:2) explains that Parashat Mishpatim begins with the laws of an Eved Ivri because the servant’s emergence into freedom after the sixth year is reminiscent of the Jewish people’s Exodus from Egypt, and also reminiscent of the six days of creation which were followed by the Shabbat. Consequently, one could say that the institution of Eved Ivri, like the original days of creation, is intended to end with the creation of a new person with a true sense of freedom.

If after the six years are over, the Eved prefers to remain a servant in his master’s home, he may remain an Eved, but first, he is brought to court, and at the doorpost of the court his ear is pierced. According to the Gemara, this symbolizes Hashem’s disappointment with the servant’s unwillingness to seize his opportunity to be free. As the Gemara puts it (Kiddushin 22b), ‚The ear of this person, who heard my voice at Mt. Sinai when I said, in reference to the Jubilee year, ‘for the people of Israel are servants to Me, they are my servants’ (VaYikra 25:55), not servants to others, and then went and acquired a master for himself, this ear should be pierced.‛

Thus the laws of Eved Ivri not only teach us the importance of freedom, but that the Torah view of freedom involves being a servant of Hashem. This is expressed most clearly by a Midrash regarding the Ten Commandments which were engraved (Charut in Hebrew) on the stone tablets. Noting that the word Charut (for engraved) comprises the same letters – Chet, Reish, Taf – as Cheirut, the Hebrew word for freedom, the Midrash teaches: ‚Do not call the commandments ‘Charut’, but rather call the commandments ‘Cheirut’, because no one is as free as one who follows the Torah.‛

Remez HaShavua
by Neil Bodner

In this week’s Parsha (Shemot 21:24) the Pasuk states, “ עיַןִ תַחַת עיַןִ ”, “an eye for an eye.” Rashi there quotes the famous Gemara (Bava Kamma 83b) explaining that if someone injures another’s eye we don’t actually injure the offender’s eye as a punishment. Instead, he pays the victim the monetary value, known as כסף .

The Remez: To comprehend how such a non-literal understanding can be perceived within the text, we paradoxically need to interpret the phrase in its most literal fashion. The word Tachat has two meanings: in our Pasuk, we translate it as “for,” or “in place of;” literally, however, it means “under,” or “below.” In such case, we can employ both meanings to teach us the true nature of this law. The phrase “תַחַת עיַןִ ”can be understood as describing the type of eye that one must pay— namely, the eye which is, according to the literal translation, “under the Ayin.”

Ayin, however, also bears two meanings, an actual eye as well as the Hebrew letter itself. Adopting the second meaning, the Vilna Gaon points out that below the letter “Ayin” in the Aleph-Bet, when spelled out in the full ע – י – ן , is an arrangement of the letters כ – ס – ף . With this insight the ultimate understanding of the Pasuk, that the offender pays the victim with money, can be read directly into the Pasuk which truly means “money for an eye.”

This beautiful match between the phrase “ עיַןִ תַחַת עיַןִ ” and the way it is interpreted by תורה שבעל פה , the Oral Torah, may explain why both these phrases share the same Gematria (1098). While this Halachah epitomizes the necessity of the Oral Torah to properly understand the Torah SheBiKetav, it also demonstrates that the two Torahs are not independent, but deeply intertwined with one another, as the text itself also alludes to its true interpretation.