(א) בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּ֒שָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ לַעֲסֹק בְּדִבְרֵי תוֹרָה:
(1) Blessed are You, Adonoy our God, Ruler of the Universe, Who sanctified us with commandments and commanded us to be engrossed in the words of Torah.
וְגֵ֥ר לֹא־תוֹנֶ֖ה וְלֹ֣א תִלְחָצֶ֑נּוּ כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ כָּל־אַלְמָנָ֥ה וְיָת֖וֹם לֹ֥א תְעַנּֽוּן׃ אִם־עַנֵּ֥ה תְעַנֶּ֖ה אֹת֑וֹ כִּ֣י אִם־צָעֹ֤ק יִצְעַק֙ אֵלַ֔י שָׁמֹ֥עַ אֶשְׁמַ֖ע צַעֲקָתֽוֹ׃ וְחָרָ֣ה אַפִּ֔י וְהָרַגְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם בֶּחָ֑רֶב וְהָי֤וּ נְשֵׁיכֶם֙ אַלְמָנ֔וֹת וּבְנֵיכֶ֖ם יְתֹמִֽים׃ (פ) אִם־כֶּ֣סֶף ׀ תַּלְוֶ֣ה אֶת־עַמִּ֗י אֶת־הֶֽעָנִי֙ עִמָּ֔ךְ לֹא־תִהְיֶ֥ה ל֖וֹ כְּנֹשֶׁ֑ה לֹֽא־תְשִׂימ֥וּן עָלָ֖יו נֶֽשֶׁךְ׃ אִם־חָבֹ֥ל תַּחְבֹּ֖ל שַׂלְמַ֣ת רֵעֶ֑ךָ עַד־בֹּ֥א הַשֶּׁ֖מֶשׁ תְּשִׁיבֶ֥נּוּ לֽוֹ׃ כִּ֣י הִ֤וא כסותה [כְסוּתוֹ֙] לְבַדָּ֔הּ הִ֥וא שִׂמְלָת֖וֹ לְעֹר֑וֹ בַּמֶּ֣ה יִשְׁכָּ֔ב וְהָיָה֙ כִּֽי־יִצְעַ֣ק אֵלַ֔י וְשָׁמַעְתִּ֖י כִּֽי־חַנּ֥וּן אָֽנִי׃ (ס)
You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. You shall not ill-treat any widow or orphan. If you do mistreat them, I will heed their outcry as soon as they cry out to Me, and My anger shall blaze forth and I will put you to the sword, and your own wives shall become widows and your children orphans. 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. If you take your neighbor’s garment in pledge, you must return it to him before the sun sets; it is his only clothing, the sole covering for his skin. In what else shall he sleep? Therefore, if he cries out to Me, I will pay heed, for I am compassionate.
וגר לא תונה. אוֹנָאַת דְּבָרִים, קונטרארי"ר בְּלַעַז, כְּמוֹ וְהַאֲכַלְתִּי אֶת מוֹנַיִךְ אֶת בְּשָׂרָם (ישעיהו מ"ט): ולא תלחצנו. בִּגְזֵלַת מָמוֹן: כי גרים הייתם. אִם הוֹנִיתוֹ, אַף הוּא יָכוֹל לְהוֹנוֹתְךָ וְלוֹמַר לְךָ, אַף אַתָּה מִגֵּרִים בָּאתָ, "מוּם שֶׁבְּךָ אַל תֹּאמַר לַחֲבֵרְךָ"; כָּל לְשׁוֹן גֵּר אָדָם שֶׁלֹּא נוֹלַד בְּאוֹתָהּ מְדִינָה, אֶלָּא בָּא מִמְּדִינָה אַחֶרֶת לָגוּר שָׁם:
וגר לא תונה — means, do not vex him with words (referring to the fact that he is a stranger); contrarier in old French Similar is, (Isaiah 49:26) “And I will feed them that vex thee (מוניך) with their own flesh”. ולא תלחצנו NOR OPPRESS HIM — by robbing him of money (Mekhilta d'Rabbi Yishmael 22:20). כי גרים הייתם FOR YE WERE STRANGERS — If you vex him he can vex you also by saying to you: “You also descend from strangers”. Do not reproach thy fellow-man for a fault which is also thine (Mekhilta d'Rabbi Yishmael 22:20). Wherever גר occurs in Scriptures it signifies a person who has not been born in that land (where he is living) but has come from another country to sojourn there.
כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים לא הוכשרו כל הגרים בעבור היותנו גרים בארץ זמן, ואין טעם שיהיו מובטחים לעולם בעבור כן. ופירש רש''י כי הוא טעם ללא תונו אותו, יזהיר שלא תונה אותו בהונאת דברים, שאם הוניתו אף הוא יכל להונותך ולומר לך אף אתה מגרים באת, מום שבך אל תאמר לחברך. ור''א אמר זכור כי גרים הייתם כמוהו. ואין בכל זה טעם בעיקר: והנכון בעיני כי יאמר, לא תונה גר ולא תלחצנו ותחשבו שאין לו מציל מידך, כי אתה ידעת שהייתם גרים בארץ מצרים וראיתי את הלחץ אשר מצרים לוחצים אתכם ועשיתי בהם נקמה, כי אני רואה דמעת העשוקים אשר אין להם מנחם ומיד עושקיהם כח, ואני מציל כל אדם מיד חזק ממנו וכן האלמנה והיתום לא תענו כי אשמע צעקתם, שכל אלה אינם בוטחים בנפשם, ועלי יבטחו: ובפסוק האחר הוסיף טעם ואתם ידעתם את נפש הגר כי גרים הייתם בארץ מצרים (להלן כג ט) כלומר, ידעתם כי כל גר נפשו שפלה עליו והוא נאנח וצועק ועיניו תמיד אל ה' וירחם עליו כאשר רחם עליכם, כמו שכתוב (לעיל ב כג) ויאנחו בני ישראל מן העבודה ויצעקו ותעל שועתם אל האלהים מן העבודה. כלומר לא בזכותם רק שרחם עליהם מן העבודה:
For you were strangers in the land of Egypt: Not all strangers are made fitting [for special treatment just] because we were strangers in [one] land for a time. And there is no reason that they should be assured [of this treatment] forever because of this. And Rashi on Exodus 22:20 explained that it is the reason why "you should not oppress him with words [...], for if you oppress him, he can oppress you [also] by saying to you, 'You also come from strangers' - [regarding] a blemish in you, do not speak about it in your fellow." And Rabbi Avraham (Ibn Ezra on Exodus 22:20) said, "Remember that you were strangers like him." But there is no fundamental explanation in all this. And that which is correct in my eyes is that when it states, "do not oppress the stranger and do not harry him," you should think that he has no one to save him from your hand, since you know that you were strangers in the land of Egypt, and you saw the harrying that Egypt harried you and that I took vengeance for you, 'since I see the tear of the oppressed who has no comforter and has no power from the hand of their oppressors' and I save every person 'from the hand of one stronger than he.' And so [too], do not afflict the widow and the orphan, since I hear their cries. As all of these do not rely on themselves and [so] upon Me do they rely. And in a different verse, it adds another reason (Exodus 23:9), "and you know the soul of a stranger, since you were strangers in the land of Egypt." This is to say, you know that the soul of any stranger is lowly towards himself, and he sighs and cries, and his eyes are always to God - and He will have mercy upon him, as He had mercy upon you, as it is written (Exodus 2:23), "and the Children of Israel sighed from the work and they cried out, and their prayer ascended to God, from the work." This is to say that not because of their merit [did God hear], but rather He had mercy upon them due to their [heavy] work.
לֹ֥א תִשָּׂ֖א שֵׁ֣מַע שָׁ֑וְא אַל־תָּ֤שֶׁת יָֽדְךָ֙ עִם־רָשָׁ֔ע לִהְיֹ֖ת עֵ֥ד חָמָֽס׃ (ס) לֹֽא־תִהְיֶ֥ה אַחֲרֵֽי־רַבִּ֖ים לְרָעֹ֑ת וְלֹא־תַעֲנֶ֣ה עַל־רִ֗ב לִנְטֹ֛ת אַחֲרֵ֥י רַבִּ֖ים לְהַטֹּֽת׃ וְדָ֕ל לֹ֥א תֶהְדַּ֖ר בְּרִיבֽוֹ׃ (ס) כִּ֣י תִפְגַּ֞ע שׁ֧וֹר אֹֽיִבְךָ֛ א֥וֹ חֲמֹר֖וֹ תֹּעֶ֑ה הָשֵׁ֥ב תְּשִׁיבֶ֖נּוּ לֽוֹ׃ (ס) כִּֽי־תִרְאֶ֞ה חֲמ֣וֹר שֹׂנַאֲךָ֗ רֹבֵץ֙ תַּ֣חַת מַשָּׂא֔וֹ וְחָדַלְתָּ֖ מֵעֲזֹ֣ב ל֑וֹ עָזֹ֥ב תַּעֲזֹ֖ב עִמּֽוֹ׃ (ס) לֹ֥א תַטֶּ֛ה מִשְׁפַּ֥ט אֶבְיֹנְךָ֖ בְּרִיבֽוֹ׃ מִדְּבַר־שֶׁ֖קֶר תִּרְחָ֑ק וְנָקִ֤י וְצַדִּיק֙ אַֽל־תַּהֲרֹ֔ג כִּ֥י לֹא־אַצְדִּ֖יק רָשָֽׁע׃ וְשֹׁ֖חַד לֹ֣א תִקָּ֑ח כִּ֤י הַשֹּׁ֙חַד֙ יְעַוֵּ֣ר פִּקְחִ֔ים וִֽיסַלֵּ֖ף דִּבְרֵ֥י צַדִּיקִֽים׃ וְגֵ֖ר לֹ֣א תִלְחָ֑ץ וְאַתֶּ֗ם יְדַעְתֶּם֙ אֶת־נֶ֣פֶשׁ הַגֵּ֔ר כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃
You must not carry false rumors; you shall not join hands with the guilty to act as a malicious witness: You shall neither side with the mighty to do wrong—you shall not give perverse testimony in a dispute so as to pervert it in favor of the mighty— nor shall you show deference to a poor man in his dispute. When you encounter your enemy’s ox or ass wandering, you must take it back to him. When you see the ass of your enemy lying under its burden and would refrain from raising it, you must nevertheless raise it with him. You shall not subvert the rights of your needy in their disputes. Keep far from a false charge; do not bring death on those who are innocent and in the right, for I will not acquit the wrongdoer. Do not take bribes, for bribes blind the clear-sighted and upset the pleas of those who are in the right. You shall not oppress a stranger, for you know the feelings of the stranger, having yourselves been strangers in the land of Egypt.
From Rabbi Shai Held, "Mishpatim: Turning Memory into Empathy" at http://hadar.org/torah-resource/turning-memory-empathy#source-398
. . .By ger, the Torah means one who is an alien in the place where he lives—that is, one who is not a member of the ruling tribe or family, who is not a citizen, and who is therefore vulnerable to social and economic exploitation. The Torah appeals to our memory to intensify our ethical obligations: having tasted the suffering and degradation to which vulnerability can lead, we are bidden not to oppress the stranger. The Torah’s call is not based on a rational argument, but on an urgent demand for empathy: since you know what it feels like to be a stranger, you must never abuse or mistreat the stranger.
This prohibition is so often cited that it’s easy to miss just how radical and non-obvious it is. The Torah could have responded quite differently to the experience of oppression in Egypt. It could have said, Since you were tyrannized and exploited and no one did anything to help you, you don’t owe anything to anyone; how dare anyone ask anything of you? But it chooses the opposite path: since you were exploited and oppressed, you must never be among the exploiters and degraders. You must remember what it feels like to be a stranger. Empathy must animate and intensify your commitment to the dignity and well-being of the weak and vulnerable. And God holds you accountable to this obligation.
. . .By ger, the Torah means one who is an alien in the place where he lives—that is, one who is not a member of the ruling tribe or family, who is not a citizen, and who is therefore vulnerable to social and economic exploitation. The Torah appeals to our memory to intensify our ethical obligations: having tasted the suffering and degradation to which vulnerability can lead, we are bidden not to oppress the stranger. The Torah’s call is not based on a rational argument, but on an urgent demand for empathy: since you know what it feels like to be a stranger, you must never abuse or mistreat the stranger.
This prohibition is so often cited that it’s easy to miss just how radical and non-obvious it is. The Torah could have responded quite differently to the experience of oppression in Egypt. It could have said, Since you were tyrannized and exploited and no one did anything to help you, you don’t owe anything to anyone; how dare anyone ask anything of you? But it chooses the opposite path: since you were exploited and oppressed, you must never be among the exploiters and degraders. You must remember what it feels like to be a stranger. Empathy must animate and intensify your commitment to the dignity and well-being of the weak and vulnerable. And God holds you accountable to this obligation.
From Rabbi Shefa Gold "Mishpatim" at https://www.rabbishefagold.com/mishpatim/
The clarifying phrase — “ve-atem yedatem et nefesh ha-ger…” (for you know the soul of the stranger) — gives me the key to the door of compassion. The verb “yada” (to know), signifies intimacy. When I encounter the stranger, I am commanded to know her soul, to step inside her skin, to see that his pain, his joy, is not different than my own. This moment of knowing breaks the chain of oppression.
When I encounter the suffering of the stranger it can be an opportunity for me to approach and begin to heal the place inside myself that remembers suffering. From that place of newfound wholeness I can then work for justice and become a healer of the world’s pain. The secret ingredient is profound connection with the other. Gazing into the soul of the stranger, compassion is born. This compassion embraces your own suffering as well as the stranger’s. Remembering what it was like to be the stranger, the spiritual challenge is to let your heart open first in compassion for yourself, and then expand to encompass the reality of the stranger who stands before you.
The clarifying phrase — “ve-atem yedatem et nefesh ha-ger…” (for you know the soul of the stranger) — gives me the key to the door of compassion. The verb “yada” (to know), signifies intimacy. When I encounter the stranger, I am commanded to know her soul, to step inside her skin, to see that his pain, his joy, is not different than my own. This moment of knowing breaks the chain of oppression.
When I encounter the suffering of the stranger it can be an opportunity for me to approach and begin to heal the place inside myself that remembers suffering. From that place of newfound wholeness I can then work for justice and become a healer of the world’s pain. The secret ingredient is profound connection with the other. Gazing into the soul of the stranger, compassion is born. This compassion embraces your own suffering as well as the stranger’s. Remembering what it was like to be the stranger, the spiritual challenge is to let your heart open first in compassion for yourself, and then expand to encompass the reality of the stranger who stands before you.
From Dena Weiss, "You are the Perpetrator" at http://hadar.org/torah-resource/you-are-perpetrator#source-6378
You can easily read and study the Torah as a manual for how other people should treat you, how they can do right by you. They shouldn’t steal from you, they shouldn’t covet your house, their oxen shouldn’t gore yours, and their sheep shouldn’t graze on your property. If you study the Torah in this way, it can teach you a lot of laws, but it won’t teach you how to be a better person.
The purpose of the Torah is to make you more vigilant about your own actions, more concerned about preventing the harm that you do to others than with extracting revenge from those who do harm to you. Parashat Mishpatim is not a collection of cases about oxen, and thieves, and dangerous pits; it is about you. It’s a reflection of your own ability to
cause harm and a collection of the myriad ways in which you do so. Reading this parashah should fill our hearts with dread and awareness of our capacity to be agents of destruction. Studying this parashah should strengthen our commitments to be vigilant, cautious, generous, and kind.
You can easily read and study the Torah as a manual for how other people should treat you, how they can do right by you. They shouldn’t steal from you, they shouldn’t covet your house, their oxen shouldn’t gore yours, and their sheep shouldn’t graze on your property. If you study the Torah in this way, it can teach you a lot of laws, but it won’t teach you how to be a better person.
The purpose of the Torah is to make you more vigilant about your own actions, more concerned about preventing the harm that you do to others than with extracting revenge from those who do harm to you. Parashat Mishpatim is not a collection of cases about oxen, and thieves, and dangerous pits; it is about you. It’s a reflection of your own ability to
cause harm and a collection of the myriad ways in which you do so. Reading this parashah should fill our hearts with dread and awareness of our capacity to be agents of destruction. Studying this parashah should strengthen our commitments to be vigilant, cautious, generous, and kind.
From Dr. Steve Shankman, "Xenophilia" published in Arion Journal, Fall 2020
Monotheism is not an arithmetic of the divine. It is, rather, a school of xenophilia. To truly pronounce the Name of God is to offer hospitality to the wayfarer, be it on the hottest of days and no matter the physical discomfort of the host. To translate the Talmudic passage a bit differently: “Extending hospitality is more important than communion with God [lit. ‘receiving the Shechinah,’ i.e., ‘receiving the Divine Presence’].”8 But what does “communion with God” mean if not doing good deeds such as extending hospitality to the stranger, if not the very gesture of xenophilia? Can we separate religion, or communion with God, from ethics?
Monotheism is not an arithmetic of the divine. It is, rather, a school of xenophilia. To truly pronounce the Name of God is to offer hospitality to the wayfarer, be it on the hottest of days and no matter the physical discomfort of the host. To translate the Talmudic passage a bit differently: “Extending hospitality is more important than communion with God [lit. ‘receiving the Shechinah,’ i.e., ‘receiving the Divine Presence’].”8 But what does “communion with God” mean if not doing good deeds such as extending hospitality to the stranger, if not the very gesture of xenophilia? Can we separate religion, or communion with God, from ethics?