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Parashat Mishpatim begins with the laws concerning the emancipation of the indentured servant. The Torah requires the master to free his servant after six years of service. If, however, the servant prefers to remain in his master's service, then he undergoes an ear-piercing ritual and remains a servant "le-olam," or "forever" (21:6). Chazal (Kiddushin 21b), however, cited by Rashi, note that we cannot truly explain the word "le-olam" in this verse to mean "forever." After all, the verse in Vayikra 25:10 clearly calls for freeing all servants with the onset of the yovel (jubilee) year. Thus, when the verse in Parashat Mishpatim speaks of the servant remaining in service "forever," it means only until the jubilee year.

Several Rishonim, including the Rashbam (in his commentary to our verse) and the Rashba (Shut, 1:9), claim that Chazal's interpretation of this verse does not reflect "peshuto shel mikra," the straightforward explanation. Though we must accept this tradition as authentic and authoritative, the straightforward meaning is clearly that the indenture servant remains in service forever.

Is there any way of reconciling Chazal's homiletic tradition with this simple reading of this verse?

A hint at such a resolution appears in the Vilna Gaon's work, "Aderet Eliyahu." The Gaon there writes that the ear-piercing ritual, as implied in our parasha, indeed binds the servant into permanent service of his master. However, the mitzva of yovel, which the Torah introduces in Sefer Vayikra, then extricates the servant from his subjugation. While this analysis may seem at first just a mere rewording of the question, Rav Meir Simcha Hakohen of Dvinsk, the Meshekh Chokhma, arrives at a practical ramification based on the Gaon's theory (though he does not cite the passage in Aderet Eliyahu). The mitzvot relevant to the jubilee year are binding only when the majority of the Jewish people live in Eretz Yisrael; once the ten tribes were exiled, the Biblical imperatives associated with yovel no longer applied. Consider the case of an indentured servant who underwent the ear-piercing ceremony while the mitzva of yovel was in force, and then the ten tribes were exiled before the next jubilee year. Does he go free in the yovel year? The Meshekh Chokhma claims that he would not. As the Vilna Gaon claimed, the ear-piercing itself binds the servant forever; it takes the mitzva of the yovel year to override the permanent status of servitude. If the yovel year is rendered non-applicable, then the servant remains in permanent service of his master. Thus, we may uphold the literal meaning of our verse, that the servant remains in his master's service "forever."

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Among the many laws in Parashat Mishpatim is the mitzva to lend assistance to those in need by offering interest-free loans: "If you lend money to My people, to the poor among you, do not act toward them as a creditor: exact no interest from them" (22:24). Rashi, citing the Mekhilta, notes the progression in this verse, from "My people," to "the poor," to "among you." Chazal derive here a scale of preference with regard to charity and interest-free loans. First, those from God's nation take precedence over those of other nations. Then, the poor should be given loans before the wealthy, and the poor "among you," meaning, those in your town, should be shown preference over those of other locales. Rashi, in Masekhet Bava Metzia 71a, adds that a poor relative takes precedence over other poor people, even those in one's own locale.

Though perhaps instinctively reasonable, this sequence of preference requires some philosophical explanation. While we can clearly understand why a poor person should receive preference over a wealthy businessman who needs a loan for a new enterprise, the other guidelines presented here are less straightforward. If we are enjoined to assist all human beings in need, why must we give priority to those in our nation, and specifically those in our neighborhoods and families?

This question touches at the heart of the basic ethic requiring us to assist those in need. Theoretically, one could consider two bases for this requirement. First, one may argue that every human being must look at himself as inherently worthless and undeserving. Everything he has, therefore, results purely from the unearned grace of the Almighty. As such, he must follow God's lead and give to everyone in need, regardless of their importance to him. Alternatively, the need to give may evolve from the exact opposite outlook. Due to the inherent worth and importance of every human being, they deserve help and assistance. According to this perspective, which appears to be the one adopted by the Torah, we must lend a hand to others because they are all worthy and deserving as far as we are all concerned by virtue of their existence on earth as human beings.

If, indeed, we accept this second approach, then we can explain why a preference scale would be drawn. Undoubtedly, those closest to a given individual are more important to him. This is not to say that those on the other side of the globe are of no importance to him, but that they are of less subjective importance to the given individual. If we would view the obligation to give on the worthlessness of the individual and hence his need to give to others just as he receives, then the relative worth of those around him from his point of view would be irrelevant. Since, however, we base the requirement on the inherent value of every human being, there may a scale of relative, subjective worth. (Based on an article by Rav Azriel Ariel of Atarot)

Some Acharonim have noted that the Rambam omits this priority scale when dealing with the mitzva to lend money. The Lechem Mishneh (Hilkhot Malveh U-loveh 5:7) suggests that the Rambam did not feel the need to mention these guidelines in this context, since he already described the sequence of preference regarding the related mitzva of giving charity (in Hilkhot Matenot Aniyim). However, as Rav Menachem Kasher notes (Torah Shleima on our verse, no. 401), even if the Rambam relied on his previous discussion regarding tzedaka, he still should have noted the requirement to afford preference to the poor over the wealthy in our context, as this obviously does not apply with regard to giving charity. Rav Kasher suggests that the Rambam may have felt this to be obvious, and the Mekhilta mentioned this clause only as an aside; in truth, we would have intuitively understood the requirement to lend to the poor before lending to the rich.

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In Parashat Mishpatim the Torah discusses the case of the goring ox. Should an ox gore a human being, it must be stoned to death (21:28). The Torah then adds that one may not partake of its meat after its stoning. The Gemara (Bava Kama 41a; Kiddushin 56b) raises the obvious question as to the necessity of this prohibition. After all, any animal that died through any means other than halakhically-valid slaughtering may not be eaten. Why would the Torah need to forbid the consumption of the goring ox after it is stoned? The Gemara therefore deduces from this verse that the ox may not be eaten even should it be properly slaughtered before stoning. Once the court issued the sentence condemning the ox to be stoned, its flesh becomes prohibited, even should it be properly slaughtered before being stoned.

The Rishonim, however, wonder why the Gemara did not consider another answer to its question. Namely, there is one famous case in halakha where an animal may be eaten without halakhic slaughtering - the case of a "ben peku'a." If a pregnant animal is slaughtered, then its fetus may be eaten without slaughtering even if it emerged unharmed from its mother's death. (Chazal, however, required slaughtering the fetus if it walked on the ground, so as not to give the impression that animals maybe eaten without proper slaughtering.) The Rishtherefore ask why the Gemara did not consider this case as a ramification of the Torah's explicit prohibition against eating the condemned ox. Perhaps the Torah intended that even if the stoned ox normally would not require halakhic slaughtering, since it was a "ben peku'a," by virtue of its having gored a human being it is forbidden. Why didn't the Gemara suggest that for this case the Torah added the clause, "its flesh shall not be eaten"?

Several answers have been given to this question. Tosefot, for example, answer that the Gemara deemed it too far-fetched a claim that the Torah refers specifically to this rare case. The Rashba (in Bava Kama) rejects this answer and suggests that the Hebrew word "shor" (ox) is not used in reference to an ox that was never born but merely removed from the stomach of its killed mother. Therefore, our verse cannot possibly be addressing the situation of a "ben paku'a." The Ritva (in Kiddushin) suggests a particularly interesting answer, citing the Ra'a. He claims that when the Torah orders the stoning of a goring ox, it does so as a penalty against the owner. It stands to reason, then, that the Torah intended for the stoning to render the animal halakhically unfit for consumption; this is the primary objective of sentencing the stone to death - that its owner would derive no benefit from the animal. Presumably, then, the stoning de facto turns the animal into a "neveila" (an animal that died without proper slaughtering), even if under normal circumstances its death would not have yielded this status. Therefore, the clause, "and its flesh shall not be eaten" cannot be understood as referring to the case of the "ben paku'a," as the stoning itself renders it forbidden for consumption. The phrase is thus superfluous, compelling the Gemara to interpret it as forbidding the ox's consumption even if it is slaughtered before it is stoned.

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Yesterday we discussed the "death sentence" issued against an animal that kills a human being, introduced in Parashat Mishpatim (21:28). Our discussion included the comment of the Ritva in Masekhet Kiddushin (56b), citing the Ra'a, that the Torah requires stoning the ox that gores a human being and forbids the consumption of its meat as a penalty against its owner. This is also the view of the Ibn Ezra, in his comments to 21:31.

We do, however, find two other explanations for this halakha in the writings of the Rishonim. The Ralbag, in his commentary to our parasha, argues that the Torah ordered the violent animal's execution in order to eliminate dangerous creatures. An animal that is determined dangerous must be killed in order to avoid future victims. The Ramban, in his commentary to Bereishit 9:5, describes the execution of the deadly animal as a "gezeirat ha-Melekh," decree of the King, and explicitly negates the possibility that this halakha serves to penalize the owner. Apparently, in the Ramban's view, we cannot point to any practical goal - to warn other animal owners (Ibn Ezra, Ritva) or eliminate dangerous animals (Ralbag) - as the basis of this halakha. At first glance, the Ramban appears to classify this halakha as a "gezeirat ha-katuv," a Scriptural decree with no readily accessible, underlying rationale. However, Rav Menachem Kasher ("mliuim" to Torah Shleima, vol. 17, 14) speculates that the Ramban understood this mitzva along the same lines as the Sefer Ha-chinukh (mitzva 52) explained the prohibition against eating the condemned animal's meat. The Chinukh explains this prohibition as coming "in order for our minds to acknowledge that anything through which a mishap occurred is objectionable and detestable to God and to man." Although the animal is obviously not held responsible for his "crime," the very fact that it caused death is sufficient reason for it to be executed and its meat forbidden. In this sense, Rav Kasher suggests, we may compare this ox to the case of a "nirba," an animal used for sexual intercourse with a human being. Here, too, the Torah orders the animal's execution (Vayikra 20:15-16). In both these cases, the animal's involvement in an abominable act necessitates its elimination.

One ramification of these different explanations, as mentioned by both the Ramban and the Ralbag, is the case of the "shor ha-midbar," an ownerless animal that kills a human being. According to the second and third reasons we saw, this animal, too, must be put to death, as it poses a threat to others and participated in an act of "murder." If, however, we accept the first position, that the animal's execution serves as a punitive measure against its owner, an ownerless ox would clearly not be executed. This halakha is debated by the tanna'im in Masekhet Bava Kama 44b; the accepted view is that of Rabbi Yehuda, that the ownerless ox is not put to death. The Ralbag, however, writes that the straightforward reading of the verses yields Rabbi Meir's position, that even an ownerless animal is executed.

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Parashat Mishpatim introduces us to the prohibition of "bassar be-chalav," forbidding one to cook or eat meat and milk together (23:19). Although the Biblical prohibition against eating meat and milk applies only to simultaneous consumption of meat and milk, Chazal required a waiting period after the consumption of meat during which one may not drink milk or eat milk products. As we all know, many different specific customs exist in this regard, though the most prevalent view is to wait a full six hours after eating meat before partaking of dairy products.

One common situation that often arises concerning this halakha is when one cannot remember how much time has passed since his having partaken of meat. If one is unsure whether or not six hours have transpired since he ate meat, may he eat meat immediately, and assume that the required period has passed, or must he wait until he knows this with certainty? Instinctively, we would perhaps apply the famous principle of "safek de-rabbanan le-kula," that we rule leniently in situations of doubt concerning rabbinically ordained halakhot. As the waiting period was introduced by Chazal, perhaps we may rule leniently in any situation of doubt. However, another important halakhic principle may yield a stringent ruling in this case. In Hilkhot Ta'arovot, the laws concerning the "nullification" of forbidden foods when mixed with a certain proportion of permissible food, we find a halakha called "davar she-yeish lo matirin." Namely, even in situations of a mixture with a high enough proportion of permissible food to forbidden food to allow the mixture's consumption, if the forbidden food will become permissible at some later point, halakha requires waiting for that to happen. For example, an egg laid on Yom Tov may not be eaten until the next day (see beginning of Masekhet Beitza). If such an egg would be mixed together with several other, permissible eggs on Yom Tov, the general laws of mixtures would allow one to eat any egg from the mixture and assume it is permissible. However, since the forbidden egg will anyway become permissible after Yom Tov, Chazal required one to wait until after Yom Tov rather than relying on the halakhic mechanism of "bittul" (halakhic "nullification"). These halakhot are spelled out in detail in the Sulchan Arukh - Y.D. 102.

Would this same principle apply to our situation? Since one will certainly be permitted to drink milk once he is certain that six hours have passed, perhaps halakha would require him to wait before drinking milk.

It would appear, however, that this is not the case. The "davar she-yesh lo matirin" provision applies to situations where a forbidden item will, at some later time, become permissible. It can take effect only when dealing with a forbidden object, rather than with a forbidden act. When Chazal required a six-hour (for argument's sake) waiting period in between meat and milk, they cannot be said to have transformed milk and dairy products into forbidden items for that individual during this period. Said otherwise, one who would violate this halakha is not cas having partaken of "bassar be-chalav" as determined by rabbinic enactment. Rather, he has vithe requirement to observe a waiting period between meat and milk. When one eats meat, milk does not become forbidden for the next six hours; the act of drinking milk does. Conversely, then, when the six hours pass, dairy products do not transform from "forbidden" to "permissible"; the act of partaking of them does. (In classic, analytic terminology, we would say that this requirement relates to the "gavra," the individual, rather than to the "cheftza," the object of dairy products.)

Seemingly, then, there may be room for leniency when one is in doubt as to whether the required waiting period has passed.

For practical guidance, please consult a competent halakhic authority.

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Among the many laws included in Parashat Mishpatim is the death penalty issued against one who strikes his parent (21:15). The mishna (Sanhedrin 85b) clarifies that one incurs the death penalty for striking his parent only if his beating causes a wound in the parent's flesh.

What is the halakha concerning inflicting a wound in one's parent for medical purposes, such as surgery or an injection? Would this "beneficial wound" be included under the prohibition, or does the Torah forbid only wounds that harm the parent?

This question arises already in the Gemara (Masekhet Sanhedrin 84b), which rules that one may perform bloodletting on his parent, as this is to the parent's benefit. (In Talmudic times, bloodletting was performed as a medical procedure.) However, the Gemara then records that several Amora'im refused to perform medical procedures involving the infliction of wounds on their parents. Several Rishonim, including the Rambam (Hilkhot Mamrim 5:7), explain that in the absence of other practitioners, a child may perform these types of medical procedures on his parent; this accounts for the seemingly contradictory rulings in the Gemara. The Beit Yoseif (Y.D. 241), however, claims that this position is not universally accepted. He writes that whereas the Rambam reconciled the contradictory rulings in the Gemara, the Rif and Rosh read the Gemara as presenting two opinions. In their view, the Beit Yoseif posits, halakha follows the view forbidding a child to perform these operations on his parent under all circumstances (presumably barring life-threatening situations). As we know, the Beit Yoseif authored the Shulchan Arukh, in which he presents his halakhic conclusions, which he bases on the majority view on any given issue among the Rif, Rambam, and Rosh. Now according to his understanding, both the Rif and Rosh forbid medical procedures requiring inflicting wounds on one's parent. Accordingly, the Shulchan Arukh accepts this ruling. The Rema, however, rules in accordance with the Rambam's position, allowing a child to perform these procedures if no other practitioner is available.

It emerges, then, that so long as other, equally competent physicians are prepared to perform the given procedure, the son should not operate on his father.

There may, however, be room for leniency particularly when dealing with injections as opposed to surgery. Rav Yechiel Michel Tuketchinsky (Gesher ha-Chayim, vol. 2, 1) permits a son to give his parent an injection since generally speaking these do not remove any blood, and thus do not fall under the Torah's prohibition. He adds that when one's child is prepared to give the injection free of charge and thus save his parent the hefty medical bill, we may consider this situation as one in which no one else is available to perform the procedure. (Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach zt"l pointed out that such an argument appears in an earlier source - Yafeh le-Lev, 3:241.) Rav Tuketchinsky cites Rav Yitzchak Herzog zt"l as questioning this claim. He nevertheless agreed with the ruling, adding that according to the Minchat Chinukh (48), a child does not violate this prohibition if his parent specifically requests the infliction of the wound. In a medical context, then, no prohibition would apply. We should note that according to these final two reasons for leniency, a son would be permitted to perform surgery on his parent, and not just give an injection; those finding themselves in this situation should consult competent halakhic guidance.

(Taken from Torah la-Da'at, vol. 1, pp.321-323)

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Parashat Mishpatim begins with the laws concerning the "eved ivri," or indentured servant. As we discussed earlier this week, the Torah requires the master to free his servant after six years of servant. How does one become an "eved ivri" in the first place? Rashi explains that the Torah refers here to a case of a thief who could not afford to repay the stolen goods (see later in the parasha, 22:2). In lieu of payment, the court sells the thief into servitude. How are we to understand this specific form of punishment for a thief?

Rav Moshe Sternbuch explains that the mandatory servitude serves not merely as punishment, but as an educational process as well. Generally, one will resort to theft as a means of securing wealth in order to avoid having to exert himself to earn money. Whereas the attainment of wealth usually requires long hours and hard work, the thief - regardless of what form of theft he takes on - seeks to earn large amounts of money with little effort. The Torah therefore requires him to spend six years in service to another. In this setting, he depends on his master for his sustenance, and he has no choice but to work. Thereby he will hopefully undergo a change of heart and learn the value of work and the crime of indolence.

In this light we may perhaps gain a clearer understanding of the different perspectives on the servant's emancipation. As we saw earlier this week. Parashat Mishpatim allows for the possibility of the servant's remaining under his master "forever" (21:6). In Sefer Vayikra (25:39-42), however, the Torah clearly requires the emancipation of all indentured servants with the onset of the jubilee year. According to the Vilna Gaon, as we saw, from the perspective of Parashat Mishpatim, indeed a servant may remain in service for the rest of his life; the institution of the jubilee year, however, mandates otherwise. What are these two conflicting perspectives? Parashat Mishpatim addresses the issue of reprimanding a criminal. Though he must be subjected to a term of servitude to reverse his tendency towards theft, he may not be held for more than six years. If he wishes, however, the Torah allows him to remain; after all, an extended period of service can only reinforce the lesson he has learned, that one must work for a livelihood. Sefer Vayikra, however, deals with the inherent theological problem of limitless subjugation: "For they are My servants, whom I freed from the land of Egypt; they may not give themselves over into servitude" (Vayikra 25:42). Therefore, the interest in the thief's educational process gives way to the overriding prohibition against a lifelong servitude.

In conclusion, we should perhaps note the important moral and ethical message conveyed through Rav Sternbuch's explanation. One cannot approach life looking to achieve happiness and contentment effortlessly. The need to exert oneself rather than hoping for everything to come naturally constitutes a Torah ideal. This ideal applies to both material and spiritual success. Just as the Torah denounces the attempt at effortless accumulation of wealth, so does it negate the possibility of proper observance of Torah and mitzvot without exertion. One cannot hope to reach the highest standards of Torah study, mitzva observance, or interpersonal relationships without working at it. Just as the thief must be subjected to a term of servitude, so must we understand that we cannot "steal" spirituality; we must rather invest maximum effort towards this end.

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