MISHPATIM
Parshat Mishpatim (Chapters 21-24) is mostly a dizzying array of civil laws to guide the new nation. Some of these have faded into obscurity. A slave, for instance, who desires to stay with his wife and kids instead of being freed on his own will “be brought to the door or the doorpost, and his master shall pierce his ear with an awl; and he shall then remain a slave for life.” (21:6). But some remain resonant. We have in this parsha, for instance, the famous line about an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth (21:24) and the prohibition against boiling a kid in its mother’s milk (23:19) which is a large part of the origin of the laws of Kashrut banning the mixing of meat and milk. There are two warnings to not oppress the stranger, because we were ourselves strangers in Egypt (22:20 and 23:9). These are foundational texts of Jewish ethics. We are warned against worshipping other Gods four times (22:19, 23:13 23:24, 23 32-3). The greater land of Israel movement finds its justification in this parsha when YHVH promises us land that stretches from the Mediterranean to the Euphrates in what is today Iraq (23:31).
Finally, there is the famous phrase “na’aseh v’nishmah” (24:7) uttered by the people in response to all these laws. This phrase literally means “We will do and we will listen.” That’s confusing, but that confusion is hidden by our translators. JPS translates this as “All that the Lord has spoked, we will faithfully do.” Artscroll is no better saying “we will do and obey.” (Friedman at least gets it right, although his comments explain it away)
I’m going to focus my comments on five themes.
You shall not suffer a witch (or sorceress) to live (22:17)
Land, domestic animals, and rights and obligations
The three core festivals which become the pilgrimage festivals
The unfulfillable promise of YHVH if the people serve him.
How to make something unforgettable.
“You shall not permit a sorceress to live.” (22:17). The Hebrew is blunt. Gershon Winkler, a contemporary Jewish shaman and trained Orthodox Rabbi, says that this means you can’t make a living as a sorceress, but that’s an interpretation that tries to explain away the plain meaning of the text. Machshefah is the same word as is used for Egyptian sorcerers (7:11), although the singular female form only appears here, following Friedman. It’s not clear what a Machshefah is, or how it might be different than a baalat-ov, which is the Hebrew for the witch of Endor (1 Samuel 28:7-25) or other practitioners of what we might call magic; we don’t have any kind of reliable ethnography and I have not seen a good analysis of the different terms. We do know that there is a ton of what we would call magic practiced by Rabbis in the Talmud and in Jewish mystical texts. (See stories about Honi, Haninah Ben Dosa and the resurrection of Rav Zeira by Rabba, after Rabba kills him when he is drunk on Purim (BT Megillah 7B)
The prohibition is not against practicing magic, even though that’s a common commentary and the way I learned this text originally. The prohibition seems rather to be against the female practice of magic.
Is it enough to simply endorse the equality of male and female practice of magic? I want to offer two directions from which to look at this question.
We are running a parallel experiment where the religious leadership of the liberal Jewish community has shifted from being almost exclusively male to being at least half female in the lifetime of those of us whose beards or hair are white. What kind of difference has that made? Certainly the Rabbinate has shifted from being a quasi stand in for the voice of God and the Rabbinate is less authoritative than it once was.
The second direction is to ask if there is a difference in female magic than male magic? This is at least a perilous direction, because it is easy to get trapped in some kind of view of how real life women should be, and that’s not at all where I want to go. I’d rather ask about female energies versus male energies and the ability to tap into female energy through female magic—something that men, women, and the variety of people who don’t identify with those two main categories could tap into and practice. On the one hand, I’m completely convinced that there is a difference between male and female energy and practice, and on the other hand, I completely lack a usable approach to this. I see this as an area for me to explore in my own life. I also believe that this ties into how to incorporate the Goddess into my spiritual life. I’m all ears for any suggestions.
What kind of difference has the shift to a more female religious leadership made? Is there any difference between female and male magic? What did we lose by the suppression of women religious practitioners? How do we reclaim it?
Domestic animals and land have the same rights and obligations as humans do. I believe that’s the clear implication of our text. Here’s what it says about livestock. YHVH tells the Hebrews, “You shall give me the first born among your sons. You shall do the same with your cattle and your flocks, seven days it (or he) shall remain with its (his) mother; on the eighth day you shall give it to me.” (22:28-9). Here’s what it says about land. “Six years you shall sow your land and gather its yield, but in the seventh you shall let it rest and lie fallow….Six days shall you do your work, but on the seventh day you shall cease from labor, in order that your ox and your ass may rest” (23:10-12) These verses lay out an obvious parallel between domestic animals and humans, and then between humans and the land.
There’s an obvious difference that humans can choose to break the commandment to rest on Shabbat, and thereby force their livestock to work. We can break the shmita commandment to give the land a rest and force it to produce. But the parallel seems more compelling to me. The land and the livestock, both in their own way, have the privilege to observe Shabbat just as we humans do. The livestock have the same obligation as we humans do to redeem the first born males, and that happens on the 8th day, just as the brit milah ceremony happens.
Animism, following Descola a prominent French anthropologist, is the belief that all beings are alive and have the same ontological status—it’s just that we have different bodies so we perceive things differently. In an animist world, squirrels are alive, rocks are alive, rivers are alive—they are just differently bodied. That’s exactly what our texts are saying. Animism is a radical rejection of the worldview that humans are on top and are free to do what they want with other beings.
I want to emphasize both rights and obligations, as the parsha does. It’s not just that animals are created in the divine image and therefore have rights—it is a stronger claim than that. The fact that livestock have obligations makes them more like humans. On the other hand, it is less clear to me what we might mean by saying that land has an obligation to the divine.
Do you believe that animals have the same rights and obligations in relationship with the divine as humans? What about land? What would the implications be if we took an animist world view seriously?
The three core, original pilgrimage holidays (regalim, meaning walking) of ancient Israel are first enumerated in this parsha (23:14-17). Today we know these holidays as Pesach, Shavuot and Sukkot, but that’s not what they are called here. There’s an ongoing tension between seeing these holidays as agricultural versus seeing them as having historical/theological meaning. Let’s see what this parsha can teach us.
Pesach is called the “feast of unleavened bread.” I have argued before about the sympathetic magical aspect of the holiday and the importance of having no rain so the grain could dry out. The text does reference the exodus from Egypt, but there is no direct reference to the parting of the red sea, the plagues, no calling it the holiday of liberation from the narrow place (the literal meaning of Mitzrayim, the Hebrew word for Egypt). These are the highlights of the historical/theological meaning of Pesach.
Shavuot is called the “feast of the harvest, the first fruits of your work.” It marks the end of the grain harvest in ancient Israel. There’s no mention of revelation of the ten commandments at Sinai, the current focus of Shavuot, even though that just happened 3 chapters earlier in Chapter 20.
Sukkot is called the “festival of gathering” marking the end of the harvest. There’s no mention of the booths in which we eat and are the most current visible representation of the holiday, no discussion of the fragility of life or whatever meaning we assign to the booths.
Note also that Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are not included in this list, thought they will be mentioned in Leviticus.
These holidays in their oldest form, are agricultural holidays. We humans are fundamentally embodied creatures whose lives literally depend upon the bounty of our ecosystems. One of the hallmarks of our modern world is to drive out of mind our deep connection and dependence upon the physical. Most of us live in exile from the more than human world. Celebrating the agricultural seasons is a way to reclaim our connection with the more than human world.
What do you think about marking the agricultural calendar? What would be the logical marking places for those of us who live in a four season ecosystem, rather than the two season Mediterranean ecosystem of ancient Israel? How would you celebrate agricultural holidays?
“You shall serve YHVH your god, and he will bless your bread and your water. And I will remove sickness from your midst. No woman in your land shall miscarry or be barren. I will let you enjoy the full count of your days.” (23:25-6). Only that’s not possible. To be human is to be sick—and/or know people who are sick. To be human is to know women who have miscarried or are barren—and/or to be one yourself. To be human is to know people who do not live out the full count of their days—and/or to be such a person yourself. YHVH is promising something that is incompatible with being human.
No big deal. JPS comments “these are rewards typically promised in ancient treaties.” Rashi merely says “if you comply with my will.” Ramban doesn’t see any problem with this text and argues that this is part of the polemic against worshipping other gods—only YHVH can provide these things. Only YHVH can’t because to die before our time, to miscarry, to be infertile—this is to be human.
I would argue that there is a continuum in our approach to these inevitable aspects of being human. That continuum runs from denial (not just a river in Egypt, as it were) to grudging acceptance to embracing our humanity. These verses preach denial, and denial never works, as human as it is to deny or suppress our feelings. What’s even worse, in my reckoning, is that we have a whole ideology of the Messiah or Messianic times where these things won’t happen. But this is just denial, denial of our lives as embodied beings.
Let me explain more of what I mean, using the example of working and getting older. Denial is working until you physically can’t anymore because you don’t want to admit you are getting old (I have people like that who work for me). Acceptance might be to retire because you recognize that you need to make room for the next generation, but you just disappear instead of taking your place as an elder. Embracing our humanity would be exemplified by taking on the mantle of being an elder and offering wisdom to the people actually doing the work.
What is your core approach to the inevitable misfortunes of being human? Do you pray to a God or for a time when they won’t happen? Then you pray in vain. Do you accept them? Embrace them? How do you view the difference between acceptance and embracing them?
Na’aseh v’nishmah, we will do and we will listen (24:7) is uttered in the context of a ritual. Moses sets up an altar at the foot of Mt. Sinai with twelve pillars, one for each tribe so everyone is included. He takes one part of the blood of the slaughtered animals and dashes it on the altar (a pretty typical thing) and collects the other half in basins. He then recites the “record of the covenant”, probably what we have read in this parsha. So far all normal enough. The people respond na’aseh v’nishmah and Moses takes the blood that was in the basin and throws it on all the people. Eww and gross. But really effective for making the reading of this covenant memorable. I bet it is hard to forget the time you got blood thrown on you.
Now if you have worked with assisting animals giving birth as I have, or slaughtering animals which I have not other than chickens, getting some blood on you is no big deal, happens in the course of doing business. But just standing there as part of a ritual and listening to a sacred text that some probably found boring, and then have blood thrown on you—that would be remarkable.
It seems to me that na’aseh v’nishma, we will do and we will listen, is muttered in the context of blood being thrown on them. I imagine our ancestors saying “holy crap, OK we will do what you say, and then we’ll figure out what that means, just don’t throw any more blood on us, pretty please.
How can we seal our commitments in such a way that we don’t walk away from them in the fog of forgetfulness? What would help make your commitments really live for you?
QUESTIONS
What kind of difference has the shift to a more female religious leadership made? Is there any difference between female and male magic? What did we lose by the suppression of women religious practitioners? How do we reclaim it?
Do you believe that animals have the same rights and obligations to the divine as humans? What about land? What would the implications be if we took an animist world view seriously?
What do you think about marking the agricultural calendar? What would be the logical marking places for those of us who live in a four season ecosystem, rather than the two season Mediterranean ecosystem of ancient Israel? How would you celebrate agricultural holidays?
What is your core approach to the inevitable misfortunes of being human? Do you pray to a God or for a time when they won’t happen? Then you pray in vain. Do you accept them? Embrace them? How do you view the difference between acceptance and embracing them?
How can we seal our commitments in such a way that we don’t walk away from them in the fog of forgetfulness? What would help make your commitments really live for you?
