Two Minute Torah Podcast

Mishpatim 5771 by Ben Goldberg

Shalom, my name is Ben Goldberg, chair of the 2011 KOACH Kallah at Northwestern University in Evanston, Il. Welcome to KOACH's Two-Minute Torah; a project of the College Department of the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism

Mishpatim, meaning laws or judgments, is the title of this week's parsha, and indeed the parsha is full of laws that instruct the Israelites on how to live. But mishpatim is also one half of a dichotomy for mitzvot used by Jewish thinkers. Mishpatim refer to those mitzvot that have a clear purpose, such as the commandment not to murder or steal. Hukkim, its counterpart, refer to those mitzvoth that do not have an obvious purpose, such as the prohibition on wearing a linen and wool mixture.

This double meaning got me thinking about the purposes of the commandments, called ta'amei hamitzvot in Hebrew. Unlike some Jews who believe that the commandments are simply expressions of God's will that we must obey whether they have a logical justification or not, I tend to think that the mitzvot, for the most part, have good reasons behind them that justify their performance. Indeed, what for me is part of the excitement of Jewish study and living is coming to realize just what those purposes are. I'd like to offer an example from this week's parsha.

The Torah tells us in Exodus 23: When you encounter your enemy's ox or ass wandering, you must take it back to him. When you see the ass of your enemy lying under its burden and would refrain from raising it, you must nevertheless raise it with him."

This mitzvah certainly falls into the mishpatim category, a commandment with a clear purpose. A conventional understanding of this mitzvah analyzes it on the basis of tz'aar baaeli hayim—preventing unnecessary pain to animals. It's not the animal's fault that its owner happens to be your enemy, and we must not take out our hatred at our enemy on the animal that needs our assistance, as the Torah acknowledges we might want to. Indeed, the Bechor Shor, a 12th century French commentator, says "it is a greater commandment to do this for your enemy than for your friend, in order to crush the evil impulse."The purpose of this mitzvah, it seems, is to cultivate a sensitive and generous spirit that helps the innocent even when tempted not to.

This is well and good, but I'd like to suggest an even more specific reason for this commandment. Consider this parable from Tanhuma Yashan, a midrashic collection:

Two donkey drivers who hated each other were traveling along the same road when one of their donkeys collapsed under its load. The other driver saw it but continued on his way. After he had passed by, he remembered that the Torah says, "if you see the ass of your enemy lying under its burden... you must nevertheless raise it with him."At once he went back to help raise up the donkey. When the driver whose donkey collapsed saw this, he began to think things over and said to himself: "This man is evidently my friend and I didn't know it."Both went into a roadside inn and had a drink together, where they became good friends.

The real reason for this mitzvah, this parable suggests, has nothing to do with kindness to animals, but rather repairing the breach between enemies. How often do people stop speaking to each other long after they forget the origin of their dispute? By forcing us to encounter and assist our enemies, the performance of this mitzvah breaks down barriers and promotes reconciliation. If we force ourselves to help our enemies, they just might turn in to our friends.