TORAH
SPARKS
Parashat Mishpatim,
Shabbat Mevarchim Chodesh Adar I
January 29, 2022, 27 Shvat 5782
Torah: Exodus 21:1-24:18; Triennial 23:20-24:18
Haftarah: Jeremiah 34:8-22, 33:25-26
The Baby in the Brick
Ilana Kurshan
Our parashah describes a strange and puzzling episode that follows the giving of the Torah on Mount Sinai. Moshe, Aaron, Aaron s two sons, Nadav and Avihu, and seventy elders of Israel have a vision of God: They saw the God of Israel and under His feet there was the likeness of a pavement of sapphire, like the very sky for purity (24:10). What exactly do these leaders and elders see, and how does God respond? The Torah simply notes that God did not raise His hand against the leaders of the Israelites; they beheld God, and they ate and drank (24:11). Why did God wish to raise a hand against them? And what exactly did the elders see? The midrash, in commenting on these surprising verses, offers us a way to think about how we might encounter divinity in our lives.
The vision of God described in these verses is surprising in its directness, especially considering that when Moshe, the greatest prophet ever to live, later asks to see God, he is told that no human being may see God and remain alive (Exodus 33:20). And yet a closer look at these verses suggests that like Mount Sinai, which was hidden by a cloud during the revelation, this vision, too, remains largely occluded. Regardless of what the elders see, all we, as readers, are able to glimpse is the likeness of a pavement of sapphire, like the very sky, an image reminiscent of Isaiah s prophecy that the heavens are My throne, and the earth is My footstool (Isaiah 66:1). We on earth can see only as high as what lies beneath God s feet. And perhaps we can t see even that; the Torah says that the leaders and elders saw a likeness that was like the sky, suggesting two levels of removal from the vision itself a metaphor of a metaphor, as midrash scholar Rachel Adelman notes in her magnificent scholarly article Rhapsody in Blue, which inspired this Dvar Torah.
This notion of a metaphor of a metaphor recalls another series of metaphors discussed in a Talmudic source that quotes from this episode in our parashah. The Talmud (Hullin 89a) teaches that tzitzit are supposed to be the color of t chelet a shade of blue because blue resembles the color of the sea, and the sea resembles the color of the sky, and the sky resembles the color of sapphire, and sapphire resembles the Throne of Glory. The tzitzit unleash a chain of associations that lead ultimately to God s sapphire throne, but as with the vision of the elders, we are not able to see any further. Indeed, perhaps the leaders and elders just saw the pure blue of the heavens and, by power of association, believed they were seeing the likeness of God s throne. They beheld God, but only to the extent that it is possible for any human being to behold God visually, namely by gazing at the heavens and unleashing the floodgates of the imagination.
And yet for all that they were limited visually, the leaders and elders nonetheless beheld God, or at least a manifestation of God. The midrash, in trying to establish the nature of this vision, notes that the term used in the Torah for pavement is livnat, which is a form of the word l vena, meaning brick. As the rabbis note, we last encountered this term in the Torah s description of the harsh labor that the Israelites had to endure as slaves in Egypt: They [the Egyptians] made life bitter for them [the Israelites] with harsh labor at mortar and bricks (l venim) (Exodus 1:14). When Pharaoh wished to embitter the lives of the Israelites even further, he insisted that his foremen no longer provide the slaves with bricks, but instead require them to make their own bricks from straw, while still reaching the same quota each day; as a result, the Israelites groaned under their bondage, and their cries rose up to God. The rabbis teach that the sapphire pavement is a reminder of the bricks that His children would make in Egypt (Sifrei Zutah Numbers 10:35), suggesting that God s throne is comprised of a reminder of the suffering of His people.
This suffering is rendered painfully and poignantly graphic in a midrash that teaches about one particular Israelite slave, Rachel, the daughter of Shutelach of the tribe of Ephraim, who was pregnant and about to give birth when Pharaoh issued the decree that the Israelites must make their own bricks (Pirkei d Rabbi Eliezer 48). She was trampling clay to make bricks with her husband when the baby came out of her womb and became immured in the clay; the medieval commentator Hizkuni suggests that it was in fact the amniotic fluid that became commingled in the brick, playing off the phonetic similarity between the words for amniotic fluid (shfir) and sapphire (sapir). The midrash adds that the angel Michael came down and took the brick and brought it up to the Throne of God s glory. This midrash teaches that when an Israelite woman was so ravaged by suffering that she miscarried even before she could sit on the birthing stool, God as it were sat on the birthing stool in her stead.
The midrash adds that when Michael brought this brick to God, God responded by smiting the Egyptian firstborn that very night. And so God was not sitting comfortably on a throne of precious stones while the Israelites were enduring backbreaking labor; rather, God, too, experienced the oppression of the Israelites, and was moved by their pain. The rabbis teach that whenever Israel is enslaved, the Divine Presence, as it were, is enslaved with them (Mekhilta d Pisha 14), as evidenced both by the vision of the sapphire brick beneath God s feet, which the rabbis quote here, as well as Isaiah s declaration that, In all their affliction, He was afflicted (Isaiah 63:10). These midrashim suggest that when the leaders and elders went up and beheld a vision of God, what they saw was not a vision of God s external appearance, but rather evidence of God s unique bond with the Jewish people. To behold God was to see how God suffers along with God s people, and how God is responsive to their cries.
The leaders and elders ascend to apprehend God and feast on a divine vision. But in looking up to the pure blue heavens, they see no higher than the pavement beneath God s feet. Nonetheless, that is enough, because the pavement attests to God s sensitivity to the plight of the people, and to God s commitment to redeem them. No human may see God and remain alive, but in our moments of suffering, we can envision God suffering alongside us and orchestrating our redemption.
Let Go!
Vered Hollander-Goldfarb
Text: Shemot 23:10-11
10And six years you shall sow your land, and you shall gather in its produce, 11and the seventh you shall let go of it and abandon it, and the poor of your people will eat; and the extra, the beasts of the field may eat; so shall you do with your vineyard and your olives.
This brief passage refers to the year we call Shmitah (literally letting go ), occurring every seventh year. This year is a Shmitah year. The rules regarding the use of land during Shmitah apply only in Israel.
● This mitzvah involves letting go of the land in the seventh year. From what you can gather here, what does it mean to let go ?
● Why do you think the Torah prefaces the mitzvah with the statement that you shall work and gather the produce for six years?
● Whose responsibility is it to make sure that the poor person gets food from the land?
Commentary: R. Avraham ben HaRambam Shemot 23:11
in this mitzvah there is compassion for the poor in a manner different from Tzedakah etc, because in it (Tzedakah), the demeaning of those asking is usually involved, and in this one they (the poor) will be equal to the owner in taking it. And therefore, the Scripture presented it using the term of abandonment and did not present it using the term of giving, as it does in loans: you shall surely give , you shall surely open [your hand] (Deut. 15).
And although there is in this [mitzvah] compassion for the poor, there is also a great usefulness for the rich field owners [when they] practice the quality of generosity and exercise being kind.
● What is the difference for the poor person between receiving Tzedakah and collecting from the field during Shmitah? Why is this difference significant, and for whom?
● How does R. Avraham ben HaRambam prove his idea from the language of the text?
● Not only the poor benefit from the arrangement during the Shmitah. What does the owner of the field gain?
Commentary: Shadal Shemot 23:10
And six years after completing the legal issues, it mentions the mitzvot that are dependent on grace and kindness, which are beyond the legal call of duty. Here, in Shmitah, it says and the poor of your people will eat And it also commands compassion for animals, as it says and the extra, the beast of the field may eat
● Why do you think that a mitzvah of this nature is placed after the more standard legal material?
● Do you think that it is possible to breed compassion and kindness through legislation? What are the benefits and pitfalls of this method?
Freedom
Bex Stern Rosenblatt
The greatest story of our tradition is a story about freedom – freedom from slavery in Egypt, freedom to live and worship in our own particular way. Our haftarah portion continues to explore that push-pull of freedom. Does freedom mean lack of oppression or does it mean positive ability to accomplish what we want? Is it freedom from or freedom to?
Jeremiah addresses the people of Judah during the siege of Jerusalem, before the fall of the city. King Zedekiah had made everyone set their slaves free, paraphrasing the law found in this week s parashah on the manumission of slaves during the seventh year. And everyone did as the King had commanded for a time, upholding the law and the covenant with God. But then they all re-enslaved their former slaves. The freedom was a temporary experience, the closeness with God a passing moment. In response, God has Jeremiah chastise them, saying, as translated by Robert Alter:
You, you did not listen to Me to proclaim a release, each man to his brother and each man to his fellow. I am about to proclaim a release for you, said the LORD, to the sword and to pestilence and to famine, and I will make you a horror to all the kingdoms of the earth.
Something very interesting is happening here. The people have failed in their task and so God takes it up. The people did not proclaim a release and so God does. The release the people were meant to proclaim was one from slavery. There is no differentiation in this verse between slaveowner and slave. Both sides were to be freed by the ending of slavery. Instead, both sides are punished. God proclaims a release in which the sword, pestilence, and famine take the place of brothers and fellows. We move from acting on our agency to being acted on by God. We move from freedom to be part of our community to lack of freedom from agents of death.
Medieval commentator Rashi phrases it even more strongly. He interprets God as saying, I proclaim a release for you from me. It is God who refuses to hold us as slaves. Of course, being a slave of God is not the same as being enslaved by our fellows. It is something we choose to take on ourselves, something we can only take on ourselves in moments when we are truly free from other masters – whether from the Egyptians or from our own people. And it is something which offers us freedom from the normal concerns of a dweller of a besieged city. God offers us protection. When we reject the idea of freedom in general, we lose the option to take up the yoke of God. We do not have freedom to choose God when we are in service to another. And we do not have freedom from the horrible things from which God would protect us. It might not seem like much of a choice. But it s the choice we get to make.