Controlling Our Worst Impulses- Mishpatim 5785

I want to share a tidbit of history: as some history buffs know, one well-known figure of the American Civil War was the poet Walt Whitman. During the war he traveled from his native Brooklyn to the south, where he served as a volunteer nurse to the wounded Union soldiers and witnessed firsthand the bloody battle of Fredericksburg. After a period of time of witnessing the horrors of war- death and destruction, amputations and agony- Whitman wrote a letter to his mother. It said, in so many words: “Dear Mother, I believe this place has got the better of me. I think I’ll come home for a while.”

Whitman needed a break from witnessing firsthand the horrible actions that people are capable of doing to each other. Earlier this week, realizing that I was feeling those same feelings, the sadness became overwhelming. For 505 days, I’ve been groping for the right words and wrestling with my own feelings about what Hamas- yemach shemo, may their name be erased- has done to both Israelis and innocent Palestinians. Now, with the horrible yet not entirely unexpected news that the Bibas family has been long murdered, including baby Kfir, his brother Ariel, and their mother Shiri- zichronam l’vracha, may their memories be a blessing- I find myself channeling something of Whitman’s own feelings of distress and overwhelm.

Additionally, several buses have been booby trapped with explosives in the Tel Aviv area, and were detonated late Thursday and early Friday. Thank G-d no one was injured, but public transportation in Israel is currently at a near-standstill, and the trauma felt by Israelis is now perhaps the most acute it’s been since October 7, 2023. 

You may recall that in my Rosh Hashanah sermon I tried to convey my experience and feelings in the aftermath of that terrible day. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that not a day has gone by since then where I haven’t thought about those who were murdered, tortured, taken hostage, or called to fight in a terrible war that has lasted far too long. After hearing the terrible news on Wednesday, it was too much. It was, for me, the most painful day in the last 505 days. I, like Whitman and I suspect several of us here, need a break- at least for a bit, from social media and the news. Thank G-d we have Shabbat for that.

However, my thoughts are also on our parsha this week- parshat Mishpatim. My own thoughts this week, I’ll admit, at times have been in the realm of justice and payback; of repaying violence with violence. However, the Tradition has a different perspective. In a D’var Torah on our parsha, my teacher Rabbi Shai Held writes:

“It may be tempting to imagine a Manichean world in which the “good guys” learn compassion from experiences of vulnerability and suffering, while the “bad guys” learn only hostility and xenophobia. But it is far more honest, I think, to wrestle with the ways that each of us often has both responses at the same time: part of us responds to the experience of suffering by wanting to make sure that no one else has to endure what we did, but another part of us feels entitled and above reproach: if you had been through what I’ve been through, we can hear ourselves saying, you would understand that I don’t owe anybody anything. As contemporary writer Leon Wieseltier once remarked of the Jewish people, “The Holocaust enlarged our Jewish hearts, and it shrunk them.” The Torah challenges us to nurture and cultivate the compassionate response and to make sure that the raging, combative one never becomes an animating principle of our lives.”

We have the responsibility, according to Held, to both acknowledge our desire for justice AND realize that justice may come in a different form. This, however, is often easier said than done. The Torah famously teaches in our parsha in chapter 21 verses 24-25:

עַ֚יִן תַּ֣חַת עַ֔יִן שֵׁ֖ן תַּ֣חַת שֵׁ֑ן יָ֚ד תַּ֣חַת יָ֔ד רֶ֖גֶל תַּ֥חַת רָֽגֶל׃

Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot,

כְּוִיָּה֙ תַּ֣חַת כְּוִיָּ֔ה פֶּ֖צַע תַּ֣חַת פָּ֑צַע חַבּוּרָ֕ה תַּ֖חַת חַבּוּרָֽה׃ {ס}    

Burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise. 

On their surface, these verses seem straightforward: injustice done to someone will be repaid with a penalty in kind. However, the commentator Bartenura, among others, teaches that the rabbis interpret these verses as metaphorical. They were not meant to be taken literally; Bartenura says that rather than physically maiming someone in the same manner as they did to someone else, the perpetrator is instead liable for monetary compensation. We are to practice restorative justice- prioritizing the victim’s needs and offender’s guilt peacefully. In fact, as the Mishna teaches in Bava Kamma, a person is liable to pay money towards five different categories of damages if they cause a person physical harm:

“One who injures another is liable to pay compensation for that injury due to five types of indemnity: He must pay for damage, for pain, for medical costs, for loss of livelihood, and for humiliation.” (Bava Kamma 8:1)

Besides this noteworthy teaching, it would seem that the penalties for many of the infractions enumerated in our parsha are quite steep. For example, consider chapter 21 verse 17:

וּמְקַלֵּ֥ל אָבִ֛יו וְאִמּ֖וֹ מ֥וֹת יוּמָֽת׃ {ס}    

“One who insults one’s father or mother shall be put to death.”

Once again, the rabbis determine that this penalty is not to be carried out literally. There are other penalties that they prescribe for such an action, but as we all know, parents and children have a propensity at times to get angry at each other. The rabbis knew that we are but human, and that certain actions can’t be condoned but can nonetheless be addressed in a more humane manner.

According to Kabbalah, the Jewish mystical tradition, each person carries within them two impulses: the yetzer ha’ra, the evil impulse, and the yetzer ha’tov, the impulse towards goodness. We learn that a person cannot live with just one of these: it’s the power of the yetzer ha’ra that provides the impetus for us to refine the yetzer ha’tov within each of us. 

This can be extremely hard to do- to subdue our inclination to destroy in favor of that to build. We learn in the Talmud in masechet Sukkah: “If you encounter the yetzer ha’ra in the street, drag it into the study house”. When my instinct towards hate and violence and malice and destruction grows, I do what I can to subdue it.

I want to posit that this paradigm is the same as following good mental health practices. When we’re stressed, upset, angry, sad, burnt out, or not feeling our usual selves, we are best served by channeling that energy into goodness. For me, talking honestly with a friend or loved one, going to the gym, playing my guitar, or engaging in Torah study- the old standby- all help us to regain ourselves and not be overcome by our more violent instincts.

All that said- there is still a time for sadness, and for anger; a time to freely show our emotions and the full scope of our humanity. And that’s where I am now. But what can I do to move forward, after embracing the gift of Shabbat’s mandatory break from the ugliness and worries of the world? I can do all the things that Judaism mandates we do in order to live a meaningful life. Learning Torah, giving tzedakah, visiting a friend who’s sick or feeling down, and any number of other activities help to bring out the yetzer ha’tov in all of us. 

Mahatma Gandhi, picking up on the verse from our parsha, is purported to have said “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” I really, really want to believe that; but, in my more emotional moments, I’ll confess that I pine for that type of justice. Violence and war, with all its horror and all the barbarity that comes with it, is sadly necessary at times. But if the objective is solely to make others hurt- to make others experience the pain that we ourselves feel- then we become our basest selves. Subduing those instincts can be the hardest thing in the world to do, and I’ll be the first to say that sometimes I’m not successful- but that doesn’t excuse us from trying to engender peace in a world that seems oh-so-broken in so many ways. So let us try, knowing full well that it can be hard.

May we all merit to hear better news in the days ahead.