This
week’s Torah portion, Yitro, describes two views of Jewish law and
governance that are implemented shortly after Israel leaves Egyptian bondage. The first is a creative and pragmatic plan
designed by Jethro and implemented by Moses. The second is theocracy shaped by
the covenant God forges with Israel at Mount Sinai. Let’s examine each more
closely.
The
first form of governance is described in Exodus chapter 18. Jethro, the father-in-law
of Moses, having heard of the wondrous Exodus, comes out to meet his daughter,
her family, and the entire nation of Israel in the wilderness. Jethro observes
Moses sitting under the hot desert sun fulfilling his exhausting and endless
obligation as magistrate—the people stood about Moses from morning until evening (Exodus 18:13). Jethro is horrified. “The thing you are doing is not
right; you will surely wear yourself out, and these people as well. For the
task is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone.” (Exodus 18:17) Jethro wisely and firmly directs Moses to organize
a governance structure in which the responsibility for adjudication is shared
among leaders: You
The
second governance structure, a theocracy in which God is the ultimate
authority, is revealed in Exodus chapters 19–20. While Israel is encamped
around Mount Sinai, Moses ascends the mountain to meet God.
Adonai called to [Moses] from the
mountain, saying, “Thus shall you say to the house of Jacob and declare to the
children of Israel: ‘You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, how I bore you
on eagles’ wings and brought you to Me. Now then, if you will obey Me
faithfully and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all
the peoples Indeed, all the earth is Mine, but you shall be to Me a kingdom of
priests and a holy nation.’ These are the words that you shall speak to the
children of Israel.” (Exodus 19:3–6)
Amidst
an extraordinary display of sound and light, God gives Moses the Torah on Mount
Sinai. Moses brings it to the people, establishing God as their ultimate and
eternal ruler and lawgiver—the Ruler of rulers. Immediately the Israelites are
told the first ten laws: the Ten Commandments (also known as the Decalogue). The
laws are God’s laws—God’s to make and God’s to change.[1]
Thus
Torah suggests that there are two systems in play: In one, people make
determinations based on their own instincts and judgments of what is fair and
right. In the other, God promulgates all law and, should there be confusion or
objection, God is consulted because only God can arbitrate or change the law.[2]
The
advantage of the first system is that the community’s body of law is responsive
to historical and contextual change. The advantage of the second is that it
promises that there is always a divine answer to any question of law. The
disadvantage of the first is that the community may be subjected to human
capriciousness or the politicization of law. The disadvantage of the second is
that laws promulgated thousands of years ago in a different age and different
context, are considered immutable. The problem with any system is that all
law must be interpreted and applied—and this is never done evenly or equally.
Is
there a way to see both approaches as part of one system?
The
Isbitza rebbe[3] (Poland, 19th century), in his commentary on Parshat
Yitro, notes that the very first word of the very first commandment of the
Decalogue is anochi (“I”)—I am Adonai your God (Exodus 20:2). Anochi
אנכי here is spelled not as “I” is usually written in
the Torah, which would be אני (ani).
Rather, there is an extra letter כ-kaf.[4] He
writes:
Had it been written “ani,” the meaning would
have been that the Holy One, blessed be God, had revealed the divine light to
Israel in all its completeness, and then they could not have reached deeply
into God’s words, for God would have already revealed everything. However, the
additional letter kaf in “anochi” teaches that it is not in a
state of completeness, yet rather an imagined image of the light that the Holy
One, blessed be God, would reveal in the future. The more a person apprehends
in the depths of the Torah the more that person will then understand that until
now they were in in darkness.
The
Isbitza rebbe, aware that the letter kaf as a prefix means “like,” tells
us that God delivered the “I” of the first commandment with the extra letter kaf
to signal us that Torah does not convey the totality of God’s holiness in
its words: Torah is like divine light but does not encompass the
totality of God’s divine light. We need to immerse ourselves in Torah—study it,
consider a variety of interpretations, seek our own meanings—in order to find
the light. The Isbitza continues:
This is hinted at in the night and the day. “Day” means
that the blessed God opens the gates of wisdom for people, and “night” means
that people should not imagine that they have apprehended all in completeness,
for all they have attained is like night in comparison to the day that follows.
So it goes on forever, and it follows that all is night in the face of the
light that the Holy One, blessed be God, will open in the future.
The
terms “day” and “night” themselves hint at this meaning: In the light of day,
we think we know and understand, but when the dark of night arrives, we realize
our knowledge and comprehension are incomplete. A new day arrives and we learn
and understand more, but then night comes and again we realize there is so much
more to learn and comprehend.
Torah
itself—a book of words—is not complete until we delve into it searching for
meaning and wisdom. The role of people in unlocking Torah’s wisdom is crucial.
As the Isbitza conceives Torah and its wisdom, it is a bottomless pool into
which we dive again and again in an attempt to learn more, comprehend more,
grow more. The more we learn, the more we realize how much more there is to
learn. And it doesn’t end with any person, or any generation; it continues day
after day and generation after generation.
This is
an amazing idea: Torah is not complete until you dive into it to find
the meaning and wisdom it holds for you. But learning is not an act of
passive absorption; learning is an active pursuit. When we learn, we bring
ourselves—our thoughts and ideas, opinions and concerns, sensitivities and
values—to the endeavor. Torah is a divine-human collaboration, a combination of
the two systems described in Parshat Yitro.
In Pirkei
Avot 5:25, Ben Hei Hei is remembered for saying, “According to the effort is the
reward.”[5] Many have claimed he meant that the more mitzvot
you perform, the greater your reward in olam ha-ba (the world-to-come)—a
simplistic view of a reward-and-punishment universe run by the Cosmic
Kindergarten teacher. Viewed through the lens of the Isbitza’s words, however,
Ben Hei Hei’s adage takes on a far more sophisticated meaning: The deeper our
dives into Torah as we struggle to extract the nectar of Torah, the greater the
rewards of divine wisdom we reap for own lives and the more our lives will be a
reward (a blessing) to others.
Those
deep dives into Torah afford us a way to encounter the divine and to discover
the divine spark within ourselves.
© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
[1] There are four occasions when
God changes or refines the law: (1) Exodus 24:12: The blasphemer is brought
before Moses and held in custody “until the decision of Adonai should be made
clear to them.” (2) Numbers 9:8: When those who have had contact with a corpse
are not permitted to offer the pesach sacrifice at the proper time, they
inquire why and are told, “Stand by, and
let me hear what instructions Adonai gives about you.” (3) Numbers 15:32–36: A man caught gathering wood
on shabbat is held in custody “for it had not been specified what should be
done to him.” Numbers 27:1–11: Zelophechad’s daughters object to being passed
over for an inheritance from their father; Moses appeals to God and God amends
the law.
[2] In the course of time, some
claimed that there is but one system: God alone promulgates Jewish law, and
whatever a rabbinic authority deems to be Jewish law is therefore understood to
be God’s will. Yet the entire reality of the rabbinic tradition (Talmud and
halakhic midrash) testifies that this is far from true—Jewish law is the
product of human beings engaging with Torah. Sometimes the outcome is
excellent, but not always. Consider halakhah that consigns women to
second-class status in the communal arena.
[3] Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of
Isbitza (1765-1827) was a hasidic master, a student of Rabbi Simcha Bunim
Bonhart of Peshischa. His commentaries on Torah are collected in a work
entitled Mei Shiloach.
[4] As a prefix, the letter kaf
means “like.”
[5] Some translate Ben Hei Hei’s
teaching, “According to the suffering is the reward.”
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