Thoughts on God’s Law

Originally Posted February 13, 2026

Last week our Torah portion of Yitro culminated with the dramatic events at Mount Sinai. After three days of preparation and purification, the Israelites, formerly enslaved to Pharaoh, stand at the foot of the mountain amidst thunder and lightning, the earth shaking, a blast of the shofar, and then the powerful voice coming forth from a cloud is heard: “I am the Lord your God who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. You shall have no other gods before Me.” What follows are the rest of the “Ten Commandments.” Of course, we know that was not the last word. In Judaism, it seems, there is never a last word.

           This week’s portion of Mishpatim makes that quite clear. Its very first word begins with the conjunction “vav” which generally means and: “ V’eleh ha-mishpatim asher tasim lifneihem, And these are the laws that you shall set before them,” linking the Ten Commandments to all of the laws of the Torah given at this time and revealed in every generation.. That last word, lifneihem, may simply be referring to the people, these are the laws you shall set before them, the people of Israel. However, some commentators read that word somewhat differently, seeing the words “before them,” as referring to the precedence of the particular laws in this chapter over all other laws. That is, these laws should come first. When it comes to the mitzvot, the rabbis count 613 of them, some negative and others positive. Some deal with matters of ritual, mitzvot bein adam laMakom, between us and God, and others are ethical laws, bein adam l’chavero, between people, how to act toward others. The emphasis in Parashat Mishpatim seems to be on the latter, these interpersonal laws, leading some rabbis to suggest that Moses is being told explicitly to give precedence to the laws that affect the way we treat others. Ritual laws have their place, but they should not be at the expense of our treatment of others. Virtually any law may be set aside in order to save life, even in doubtful cases, even if the person appears to be actively dying. We are told to set aside one shabbat so that that person might observe many more in the future. The mitzvah of saving life explicitly overrides other mitzvot.

           In a piece sent out by the Jewish Theological Seminary this week, its vice chancellor for religious life and engagement, my classmate Rabbi Gordon Tucker, notes that there is good reason to take pride in our legal tradition. As he puts it, “it contains so many ennobling, uplifting exhortations and practices.” He points to laws that call on us to be kind to people in need or to those who borrow from you to subsist. Don’t even think of oppressing the widow and the orphan. Don’t automatically follow the majority when they want to do something that is wrong, just because they are the majority. We are urged to create moments of spirituality, to keep the Sabbath day and to celebrate festivals. Tucker says we could compare this collection of laws to the aspirations found in the preamble to our U.S. Constitution of creating a more perfect union.

           However, if we look more critically at this group of laws and don’t simply excuse ourselves by saying that it reflects a more primitive society, we might feel concern about some of those laws. It should bother us that our tradition then permitted a father to sell his daughter into slavery or to marry her off before she reached her majority to someone she cannot refuse to marry. While we are expected to treat Israelite servants according to laws that maintain their dignity and limit their term of service – the rabbis even say that one who buys a slave, buys a master for himself - the Torah also provides that non-Israelite servants are to be considered as the property of the master and don’t necessarily get special treatment; they could be beaten. The law provides not only for the uprooting of idolatry but for the destruction of idolaters as well. And we cannot forget that the Torah teaches explicitly that witches should be executed (where do you think the folks in Salem came up with the idea?).

           Looking at these from a modern viewpoint, what are we to make of this latter group of laws? A traditional commentator might tell us to read the opening phrase as the Chasidic teacher Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Przysucha did that the law takes precedence over us. If this is to be seen as the word of God, then their meaning is independent of the way we might judge them according to our “enlightened” standards. As servants of the Almighty, we should accept them and realize that their truth and wisdom transcend human wisdom. We are called upon to submit to the authority of God and accept the law as our master.

           However, Rabbi Tucker notes that this is not the only choice we have regarding these laws. There are other ways to understand Torah and what makes its words sacred. He directs us to a passage in the late Rabbi David Hartman’s book, The God Who Hates Lies. Hartman writes, “Halakha should be engaged as an open-ended educational framework rather than a binding normative one. Anyone repelled, perhaps, by those who seek to justify and sustain some of the tradition’s systematic immoralities – who smugly deny expression to any doubt or uncertainty, claiming a monopoly on absolute truth – is invited to join me on this pilgrimage,” he wrote.

           Tucker also cites Barry Wimfheimer, another Orthodox scholar who teaches Judaic studies at Northwestern and writes that Jewish law “ought to be seen as ‘a cultural discourse or language rather than a systemic code.” Thus, what is suggested is that the halacha should be seen not as an end in itself, but rather as a means. So, when we say that the law was placed “before us,” we are giving some measure of autonomy regarding it and should think of it as being offered to us rather than imposed upon us. Thus, God’s hope is seen as expecting us to “use our minds, our hearts, our intuitions, our spiritual insights, to develop a culture of Jewish living that will modify the texts, but in doing so, fulfill what Torah is all about.” We, the rabbis, the people, need to work toward creating that “more perfect union, that better society, the more compassionate and humane community.” In this way, the law becomes the servant to the people to whom it was given.

           Rabbi Tucker calls on us today, with so much cruelty and immorality evident in our society and in many of its actors, to have the courage to challenge inhumanity with the powerful voice of this more humane view of what Torah is, of what the law should be. He sees the legal system not demanding the subjugation of our minds and hearts, but having been “placed before us.” The ball is now in our court, so to speak, “to launch a legal culture that each succeeding generation must take responsibility for, lest indefensible understandings of it succeed in thwarting the sacred and humane goals of its Author.”

           If I’m reading this right, what Tucker, Hartman, and Wimfheimer are suggesting is that it is up to us to understand that these laws that Moses placed before his generation were intended to accomplish certain goals for that ancient society. We, living in this time, must realize that those goals may require new means of implementation in light of our developing understanding of the divine will. For a start, let’s agree not to burn witches anymore or to slaughter those who hold different religious beliefs than we. Rather let us work for greater understanding of those who differ from us as we work to create a more humane community, recognizing diversity as a divine gift and appreciating the image of divinity within all creation.



 Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Edward Friedman