Why am I a Jew?

Why am I a Jew? There is a quick answer and a long answer. There is an answer written for me, and an answer that I need to write. The quick answer is that I am a Jew because my mother is a Jew. Nobody asked me, and to be fair, nobody asked her, if we wanted to be Jews. The vast majority of Jews are Jews because they were born as Jews. But to sum up Judaism as a quirk of fate is simply not enough. Our Judaism is not just about what we are, but what we do. We have a purpose and a role. It imbues our lives with meaning. It provides structure and direction. Our Judaism fills up the canvas of reality with colour. It is the compass of our lives. It is a destination, as much as it is an origin.

These two parts of Jewish identity come to the fore at the beginning of this week’s parashah in the most perplexing of mitzvot:

כִּ֤י תִקְנֶה֙ עֶ֣בֶד עִבְרִ֔י שֵׁ֥שׁ שָׁנִ֖ים יַעֲבֹ֑ד וּבַ֨שְּׁבִעִ֔ת יֵצֵ֥א לַֽחָפְשִׁ֖י חִנָּֽם: (שמות כא:ב)

If you acquire a Hebrew slave, he shall serve six years, and go free in the seventh year, without charge. (Shemot 21:2)

Much can and has been said about the mitzva of “עבד עברי-a Hebrew slave”, but I would like to focus on one small but significant nuance: A Jew who is a slave is not called a Jewish slave, he is called an “עברי-Hebrew”. The word “עברי-Hebrew” is not rare in the Torah, it is used frequently to describe the Jews during their slavery in Egypt. However, it is almost never used after they left. Post-Exodus, the only time it is used, is in reference to a slave who is a Jew. Once redeemed, the Jews are referred to as “בני ישראל–The Children of Israel”. Why change?

To understand the change of names, we have to understand the names themselves: The Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 32:8) suggests a few reasons why Avraham (and consequently his descendants) was described as an “עברי-Hebrew”: It could be because he was a descendant of a man named “עבר-Ever”, because he spoke “עברית-Hebrew”, or because he came “from across-מעבר” the Euphrates River. More poignantly, it could be because the whole world stood on one “side-עבר” of an allegorical river, and he stood on the other. Avraham, the first monotheist, was counter-cultural.

The name “ישראל-Israel” is given to Yaakov by a mysterious angel who wrestled with him at night. Approaching dawn, and unable to best him, the angel blesses him, changing his name to “ישראל-Israel”, because: “…you have “striven-שרית” with God and men and have prevailed” (Bereishit 32:29).

Both of these names, like many Biblical names, are descriptive. Yet, they describe very different things: “עברי-Hebrew” describes what someone is. “ישראל-Israel” describes what someone does. All of the aforementioned explanations of “עברי-Hebrew” detail fact. “ישראל-Israel” emphasizes act. “עברי-Hebrew” is what you are, “ישראל-Israel” is what you do. These two names correspond to the two parts of Jewish identity we mentioned earlier. Judaism begins when you are born, but it doesn’t end there. We are more than “עבריים-Hebrews”, we must live up to the term “ישראל-Israel”.

Thus, as long as the Jews were slaves, they could be called “עבריים-Hebrews”. When they were redeemed and tasked to be God’s ambassadors on Earth, they were called “ישראל-Israel”.

This explains why this particular mitzvah is called “עבד עברי-A Hebrew Slave”. A Jew who sells himself into slavery has forfeited the second part of his Jewish identity. He no longer has a destiny, he can no longer charter the course of his own life. He has surrendered his freedom. He remains a Jew, but a Jew by birth and not by action. He no longer embodies the spirit of “ישראל-Israel”. He is merely an “עברי-Hebrew”.

In his famous essay, Kol Dodi Dofek, Rabbi J. B. Soloveitchik, describes what he calls “The Covenant of Fate (גורל) and The Covenant of Destiny (ייעוד).” These parallel the two parts of Jewish identity, and their corresponding names. Fate is something you are born to. Destiny is something you live up to. Rav Soloveitchik describes how the Jews formed these two covenants with God in two different places: In Egypt, the covenant of fate was formed. The Egyptians wanted to exterminate the Jews simply for being Jews. Regardless of a Jew’s identification with their heritage, it was that heritage which marked them out for slaughter. At Mount Sinai, God formed the covenant of destiny with the Jews. They were given a mission that they had to aspire to fulfill.

Nonetheless, the slave’s destiny is postponed, not extinguished. He is expected to leave after six years. Even the laws of ownership have their Shabbat. However, if he insists on staying and wallowing in his passivity, he is given a strange punishment:

 וְהִגִּישׁ֤וֹ אֲדֹנָיו֙ אֶל־הָ֣אֱלֹהִ֔ים וְהִגִּישׁוֹ֙ אֶל־הַדֶּ֔לֶת א֖וֹ אֶל־הַמְּזוּזָ֑ה וְרָצַ֨ע אֲדֹנָ֤יו אֶת־אָזְנוֹ֙ בַּמַּרְצֵ֔עַ וַעֲבָד֖וֹ לְעֹלָֽם: (שמות כא:ו)

Then his master shall bring him to the judges; he shall bring him to the door, or to the doorpost; and his master shall bore his ear through with an borer; and he shall serve him forever. (Exodus 21: 6)

There is subtle symbolism at play here:

Why was the ear singled out from all the other limbs in the body? The Holy One Blessed be He says: ‘This ear which heard my voice on Mount Sinai at the time when I said ‘For the Children of Israel are servants to me’ – and not servants to servants, and went and acquired himself a master – should be pierced. Rabbi Shimon the son of Rebbi would expound this verse as (beautifully as) a jewel. Why was the door and the doorpost singled out from all the objects in the house? The Holy One Blessed Be He says ‘The door and doorpost who were witnesses in Egypt when I skipped over the lintel and the two doorposts and I said ‘For the Children of Israel are servants to me’ – and not servants to servants, and (then) took them from slavery to freedom. And this one went and acquired for himself a master – he should be pierced before them. (Kiddushin 22b)

This explanation explains why the ear and the doorpost bear such great significance, but there is a small detail that remains unexplained: the joining of the two.  The ear is nailed to the door.

Through the prism of the dual nature of Jewish Identity, we can understand why: The slave has tragically cleaved his Jewish identity in two. He cannot escape from his birth as a Jew, but he has abandoned the Jewish mission. He has fate without destiny. He has split between the Jew of Egypt and the Jew of Sinai. These two emblems, the doorpost of Egypt and the ear of Sinai, have been separated. And so his ear is pierced, symbolically rejoining it to the door. This is not a punishment but a lesson. Egypt and Sinai must never be separated. Jewish identity should never be split. We are the nail that joins what we are born to what we become.