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Gary Epstein
And now for something completely different . . .

Mishpatim–After the Honeymoon

 

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There is nothing that adequately prepares the first-time reader for Mishpatim. She has been sailing along a cinematic, even melodramatic, narrative, with a clear plot, a story line, characters, exciting visuals, violence, adventure, and even a series of climactic denouements: the death of the first-born, the splitting of the sea, the destruction of the Egyptian pursuers, the revelation at Sinai.

And then, in what is clearly meant to be some sort of continuation (note the conjunctive: ואלה המשפטים–AND these are the laws . . .), a code of laws that appears to be bereft of any continuity or order or relevance. The people of Israel have just witnessed the Divine revelation, they have, kaviyachol, were such a thing to be possible, seen and heard the word of God; they have been in the presence of God Himself.

And then . . . here are the basic rules of males and females who are sold into slavery, intentional and accidental homicide, parent-beating and parent-cursing, battery and damages on a non-slave, and on a slave, and on a pregnant woman, lex talionis, and–moving to the animal world–goring, and–moving to the inanimate world, reckless negligence involving a pit and fire. Theft and reparations. Bailment.  Borrowing. Renting. Rape. Witchcraft. Bestiality. Idolatry. Oppression of strangers, widows and orphans. Rules involving lending and collateral. Cursing God . . . or a judge . . . or a government official. The laws of first fruits and firstborns. Treyfot–carrion. False witness. Taking God’s name in vain. Necessary majorities for conviction and acquittal. Equality in the administration of justice. Bribery. Return of lost objects. Shmita–leaving the land fallow. Other gods. Shabbat. Festivals.  Conquest of the land of Canaan with God’s favor and assistance.

There were interruptions of the narrative in Breyshis, Genesis. There will be other breaks in the story in the coming weeks. And, of course, there will be Vayikra, the entire book of Leviticus, which will put to rest, once and for all, the notion that God was trying to write a decent book that could make the best-seller list.

But, still, this is jarring. We had such a good flow going. We had the story of the slaves, and the plagues, and the exodus. We had shock and awe, thunder and lightning, God speaking before an audience of millions of enthralled former slaves, now not only freed, but sanctified by the word and presence of God. And now, the rules that apply when and if you sell your daughter. Really?

Why?   

Here are a few answers for your consideration. First of all, Judaism is not (exclusively) an ecstatic religion. It is not ever sufficient to achieve some psychedelic, transcendent communion outside reality or consciousness. Ecstasy is nice, even occasionally necessary, but Judaism is still going to be concerned with what you say before and after you eat, the order in which you put on your shoes, what utensils you can use to serve the salad on Shabbat. The conjunctive that introduces Mishpatim: And these are the laws . . . tells you that these prosaic, pedestrian, mundane rules are equal in status to the Ten Commandments, the Aseret HaDibrot (or, as the Torah prefers, Devarim). You can’t live your life atop Sinai. The honeymoon ends and there’s laundry to do.

And, says the Torah, there is a way to approach laundry that makes it infused with holiness, kedusha. Because these are not just rules. These are God’s rules.

It defies logic to believe that before God enunciated these rules, the Jewish people lacked a civil and legal code. They had to have had laws and practices governing property, and damages, and theft, and family matters. But, like the civil and criminal codes in other societies, they weren’t holy. They were just rules that evolved in society or were imposed by government, to facilitate social interaction and behavior. Mishpatim changes that for us. There is no separation of church and state here. The laws of profaning God’s name and returning lost objects and bribing judges and observing Shabbat are ALL God’s laws.

Which leads us to a second observation. Pay attention.

While there is a word for command in Biblical Hebrew, there is no word for obey. To command is לצוות (letzavot); to obey is לשמוע (leshmoa). The latter is the same word that is used to mean to hear. I submit that this has led to some of the most seriously erroneous translations of the Bible. God did NOT say, “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One. God said, “Obey, O Israel, the Lord our God, our One God.” And that is why the Torah tells you what happens if you perform this command: “והיה אם שמוע תשמע.” God isn’t describing the reward you will receive for having been blessed with good hearing and sensitive ears. He is describing the consequences of obedience to His word.

(לשמוע also means to understand. The Israelites tell an Assyrian general that he may speak his language כי שומעים אנחנו, because we understand. But that is for another time. If you don’t like the “obey” interpretation, try out “understand.”)

Which brings us back to Mishpatim and one of the other unfortunate erroneous translations. When the Jews received the Torah, they said, “נעשה ונשמע.” They were not saying, as so frequently mistranslated, “we will do, and then we will hear,” because that is nonsense. They were saying, “we will perform obediently.” We know that there will be a whole set of rules by which to live our lives, and we will follow the rules. We will do (not “hear”) what You tell us to do. That is why they lined up all day long before Moshe Rabbeinu to find out precisely what it was that God wanted them to do, and how to do it.

And that is why Mishpatim is in exactly the right place, not an interruption to the narrative, but the logical next step. This is the step that makes Judaism a way of life and not merely a momentary high. You can be intoxicated with the grandeur of religion, but you still have to go to the bathroom. And the fact that you must say the blessing “asher yatzar” afterwards is, even though it sounds and seems strange, the essence of Judaism.

The honeymoon and the rest of life. Yitro and Mishpatim. And that is the way it must be.

About the Author
Gary Epstein is a retired teacher and lawyer residing in Modi'in, Israel. He was formerly the Head of the Global Corporate and Securities Department of Greenberg Traurig, an international law firm with an office in Tel Aviv, which he founded and of which he was the first Managing Partner. He and his wife Ahuva are blessed with 18 grandchildren, ka"h, all of whom he believes are well above average. [Update: . . . and, ka"h, one great-grandchild.] He currently does nothing. He believes he does it well.
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