This Shabbat we study the Parsha Mishpatim, meaning “Ordinances” (Exodus 21:1).

Following the revelation at Sinai, G-d legislates a series of laws for the people of Israel. These include the laws of the indentured servant; the penalties for murder, kidnapping, assault and theft; civil laws pertaining to redress of damages, the granting of loans and the responsibilities of the “Four Guardians”; and the rules governing the conduct of justice by courts of law.

Also included are laws warning against mistreatment of foreigners; the observance of the seasonal festivals, and the agricultural gifts that are to be brought to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem; the prohibition against cooking meat with milk; and the mitzvah of prayer. Altogether, the Parshah of Mishpatim contains 53 mitzvot—23 imperative commandments and 30 prohibitions. G-d promises to bring the people of Israel to the Holy Land, and warns them against assuming the pagan ways of its current inhabitants. The people of Israel proclaim, “We will do and we will hear” all that G-d commands us.” Leaving Aaron and Hur in charge in the Israelite camp, Moses ascends Mount Sinai and remains there for forty days and forty nights to receive the Torah from G-d.

In this week's haftorah, Jeremiah describes the punishment that would befall the Jews because they continued enslaving their Hebrew slaves after six years of service --transgressing the commandment discussed in the beginning of this week's Torah reading.

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King Zedekiah made a pact with the people according to which they would all release their Jewish slaves after six years of service --as commanded in the Torah. Shortly thereafter, the Jews reneged on this pact and forced their freed slaves to re-enter into service. G_d then dispatched Jeremiah with a message of rebuke: "Therefore, so says the Lord: You have not hearkened to Me to proclaim freedom, every one to his brother and every one to his neighbor; behold I proclaim freedom to you, says the Lord, to the sword, to the pestilence, and to the famine, and I will make you an object of horror to all the kingdoms of the earth." The haftorah then vividly depicts the destruction and devastation that the Jews would experience.

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The haftorah concludes with words of reassurance: "Just as I would not cancel My covenant with the day and night and I would not cancel the laws of heaven and earth, so too I will not cast away the descendants of Jacob . . . for I will return their captivity [to their land] and have mercy on them."

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Chabad.org

At Sinai, we declared, “We will do and we will understand!” Angels descended from heaven and placed two crowns upon our heads. One crown for “We will do.” The other for “We will understand.” But that’s puzzling. We were wise to accept the Torah even before we understood, to preface “we will do” to “we will understand.” Because we knew well the One who was giving us this Torah. That gives us one crown. And the other? The other is the crown for the understanding that comes after doing. Because when your understanding comes before your actions, and your knowledge has nothing to do with how you live, then you know nothing. But when you begin with a resolve to carry out whatever you learn, then your understanding soars to an entirely new level. For that, you deserve a crown, for you have transcended yourself.

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Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

“Six years,” an allusion to the 6000 years of the world’s normative existence, “he shall work”. That is, during this period, in the present time of this existence, there is the opportunity of serving G-d with Torah and mitzvot. By virtue of this service:

“In the seventh year,” i.e., in the seventh millenium, “he shall go free...”-we shall be released and be free of all the obstacles and hindrances that presently are dominant in the world, and we shall merit the sublime manifestations of the Messianic future.

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Rabbi J. Immanuel Schochet

My husband and I were coming home from a vacation and were waiting at the airport for the shuttle to take us to the remote parking lot. It was late at night, cold and when the shuttle arrived, people were naturally focused on getting on and finding a seat. As my husband was struggling to hoist the heavy bags up a narrow and steep set of steps, I heard a voice boom behind me: “Christopher, help the man with his luggage!” Christopher, a teenage boy, had gotten on ahead of my husband; we were sandwiched in between him and his father. I detected something more than a simple directive to Christopher to help us. The tone of this father’s voice implied that even though Christopher’s back was to us, somehow he should have noticed our plight. With instant grace and kindness, Christopher helped us with our luggage and made sure that we got seats before he sat down.

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For a while, the four of us sat silently in a row, keeping our balance in the swaying vehicle, listening to the churning of the unmuffled engine. I was feeling grateful to Christopher and his dad—not just for the kind act, but for being noticed in a moment of distress. Many of us have an innate negativity bias. From toddlerhood on, we’re inculcated with “stranger danger” and learn to keep our heads down low. This has practical benefits; when we don’t notice the suffering of others, then we can evade taking any action. To be kind to a stranger, on the other hand, is to overcome the negativity bias that seeks safety and convenience. To be on the lookout for opportunities to show grace is to open ourselves to a very different way of thinking about who we are and our place in the world.

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And so, I decided to overcome my “stranger danger” to tell Christopher’s dad how much I appreciated their kindness, and I complimented him on the fine job he was doing raising his son. As they rose to get off the bus, they smiled, shook our hands, introduced themselves (Christopher’s dad’s name is Dave) and, noticing my husband’s kippah, wished us a happy holiday (it was during Chanukah). A few minutes later, as we got up for our stop, a chorus of voices from the back of the shuttle instantly called out asking us if we needed any help with our bags. Realizing that they had overheard the conversation, they, too, wanted to be like Christopher. Kindness is contagious!

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When we are in harmony with ourselves and our surroundings, we can experience peak moments of profound love, understanding and unity—where we feel alive, connected and bathed in the light of truth and goodness. The moment is perfect in its totality, just as it is.

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The laws of Torah build a culture of “rising to the occasion,” cultivating a society sourced in empathy, compassion and connection that plays out in our everyday ordinary lives. We don’t need to be at the foot of Mount Sinai to be filled with awe. Look closer to home. Notice the needs of strangers. And notice, too, just how often strangers are kind to you. Look deeply into the “ordinary” laws of Mishpatim, and you will find extraordinary peak moments waiting to happen.

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From an article by Hanna Perlberger