
3.1 — Why the Torah Begins with a Slave
After the thunder of Sinai and the proclamation of the Aseres HaDibros, one might expect the Torah to begin its civil legislation with courts, contracts, or crimes. Instead, Parshas Mishpatim opens with an unexpected subject:
כִּי תִקְנֶה עֶבֶד עִבְרִי
“When you acquire a Hebrew servant…” (Shemos 21:2)
The first detailed civil law of the Torah concerns a slave.
This choice is not accidental. The Ramban explains that the order of the Torah is always meaningful. The mishpatim follow directly from the revelation at Sinai, and the first subject they address is the Hebrew servant. The Torah begins civil law with this topic because it reflects the deepest memory of the nation: Egypt.
Before Israel became a people of law, they were a people of slaves. The memory of bondage is therefore the foundation of their legal system.
The Torah does not build society on abstract philosophy alone. It builds society on historical memory. The experience of Egypt is not only a story of the past. It is a moral compass for the future.
The Ramban explains that the laws of the Hebrew servant constantly remind Israel of their own redemption. The servant must be treated with dignity, limited in time, and ultimately released. His condition is not permanent, and his humanity is never erased.
The Torah is teaching a principle:
A nation that remembers slavery must build a society of dignity.
This is why the first civil law is not about punishment, property, or procedure. It is about a human being who has lost his freedom. The legal system begins with the question of human dignity.
The Ralbag explains that the Torah arranges its laws in a pedagogical order. It begins with the Hebrew servant because this case expresses the most fundamental moral idea: the value of human freedom.
A servant represents a person at the lowest point of independence. By placing this law first, the Torah declares that the legal system must protect even the most vulnerable. The servant is not a disposable laborer, nor a permanent object of ownership, nor a person without hope of freedom. Instead, he is a brother, temporarily bound by circumstance. His servitude is limited, structured, and ultimately reversed.
This structure teaches that the Torah’s legal system is built not on power, but on dignity.
Throughout the Torah, the memory of Egypt appears again and again. The people are commanded to protect the stranger, the widow, and the orphan because they themselves were strangers in Egypt. They are told not to oppress workers because they remember the cruelty of forced labor.
The law of the Hebrew servant is the first and clearest echo of that memory.
When a Hebrew servant works for six years and is freed in the seventh, the cycle reflects the national story:
The servant’s release reenacts that redemption on a smaller scale. Every cycle of servitude and freedom becomes a reminder of the Exodus.
The Torah does not define Israel primarily by territory, language, or political structure. It defines them by a story: they were slaves, and Hashem freed them. This identity shapes their laws.
A society that remembers slavery cannot tolerate permanent oppression. A nation redeemed by Hashem cannot treat its members as objects. The legal system must reflect the dignity that comes from redemption.
The law of the Hebrew servant therefore teaches several foundational ideas:
These principles shape the entire structure of Mishpatim.
The Ramban sees Parshas Mishpatim as the continuation of the Aseres HaDibros. The spiritual truths of Sinai become the social structures of society.
Within this framework, the law of the Hebrew servant plays a crucial role. It translates the memory of redemption into legal form.
Just as the Aseres HaDibros begin with:
אָנֹכִי ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִיךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם
“I am Hashem your G-d, who took you out of the land of Egypt” (Shemos 20:2),
so too the civil law begins with a reminder of slavery and release.
The covenant begins with redemption, and the legal system begins with the memory of that redemption. The structure is deliberate and symmetrical.
Many legal systems begin with the protection of property or the punishment of crime. The Torah begins with the protection of a person’s dignity. This reveals the spirit behind the mishpatim. The Torah is not only concerned with order and enforcement. It is concerned with compassion.
By beginning with the Hebrew servant, the Torah teaches that justice must protect the vulnerable, that power must be restrained by memory, and that law must reflect moral experience. The first case is not about authority, but about responsibility.
Modern societies often base their laws on abstract ideals such as equality, rights, or economic efficiency. The Torah offers a different model. It builds law on memory. Israel’s laws are shaped by the experience of Egypt, and that history becomes their moral compass.
In our own lives and communities, this principle still applies. A healthy society remembers its moments of suffering and uses them to shape its values.
This means building communities that:
Moral memory is not meant to produce bitterness. It is meant to produce responsibility.
The Torah begins its civil law with a servant to teach a timeless lesson:
A society that remembers slavery will build freedom.
A society that forgets suffering will eventually recreate it.
📖 Sources


3.1 — Why the Torah Begins with a Slave
After the thunder of Sinai and the proclamation of the Aseres HaDibros, one might expect the Torah to begin its civil legislation with courts, contracts, or crimes. Instead, Parshas Mishpatim opens with an unexpected subject:
כִּי תִקְנֶה עֶבֶד עִבְרִי
“When you acquire a Hebrew servant…” (Shemos 21:2)
The first detailed civil law of the Torah concerns a slave.
This choice is not accidental. The Ramban explains that the order of the Torah is always meaningful. The mishpatim follow directly from the revelation at Sinai, and the first subject they address is the Hebrew servant. The Torah begins civil law with this topic because it reflects the deepest memory of the nation: Egypt.
Before Israel became a people of law, they were a people of slaves. The memory of bondage is therefore the foundation of their legal system.
The Torah does not build society on abstract philosophy alone. It builds society on historical memory. The experience of Egypt is not only a story of the past. It is a moral compass for the future.
The Ramban explains that the laws of the Hebrew servant constantly remind Israel of their own redemption. The servant must be treated with dignity, limited in time, and ultimately released. His condition is not permanent, and his humanity is never erased.
The Torah is teaching a principle:
A nation that remembers slavery must build a society of dignity.
This is why the first civil law is not about punishment, property, or procedure. It is about a human being who has lost his freedom. The legal system begins with the question of human dignity.
The Ralbag explains that the Torah arranges its laws in a pedagogical order. It begins with the Hebrew servant because this case expresses the most fundamental moral idea: the value of human freedom.
A servant represents a person at the lowest point of independence. By placing this law first, the Torah declares that the legal system must protect even the most vulnerable. The servant is not a disposable laborer, nor a permanent object of ownership, nor a person without hope of freedom. Instead, he is a brother, temporarily bound by circumstance. His servitude is limited, structured, and ultimately reversed.
This structure teaches that the Torah’s legal system is built not on power, but on dignity.
Throughout the Torah, the memory of Egypt appears again and again. The people are commanded to protect the stranger, the widow, and the orphan because they themselves were strangers in Egypt. They are told not to oppress workers because they remember the cruelty of forced labor.
The law of the Hebrew servant is the first and clearest echo of that memory.
When a Hebrew servant works for six years and is freed in the seventh, the cycle reflects the national story:
The servant’s release reenacts that redemption on a smaller scale. Every cycle of servitude and freedom becomes a reminder of the Exodus.
The Torah does not define Israel primarily by territory, language, or political structure. It defines them by a story: they were slaves, and Hashem freed them. This identity shapes their laws.
A society that remembers slavery cannot tolerate permanent oppression. A nation redeemed by Hashem cannot treat its members as objects. The legal system must reflect the dignity that comes from redemption.
The law of the Hebrew servant therefore teaches several foundational ideas:
These principles shape the entire structure of Mishpatim.
The Ramban sees Parshas Mishpatim as the continuation of the Aseres HaDibros. The spiritual truths of Sinai become the social structures of society.
Within this framework, the law of the Hebrew servant plays a crucial role. It translates the memory of redemption into legal form.
Just as the Aseres HaDibros begin with:
אָנֹכִי ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִיךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם
“I am Hashem your G-d, who took you out of the land of Egypt” (Shemos 20:2),
so too the civil law begins with a reminder of slavery and release.
The covenant begins with redemption, and the legal system begins with the memory of that redemption. The structure is deliberate and symmetrical.
Many legal systems begin with the protection of property or the punishment of crime. The Torah begins with the protection of a person’s dignity. This reveals the spirit behind the mishpatim. The Torah is not only concerned with order and enforcement. It is concerned with compassion.
By beginning with the Hebrew servant, the Torah teaches that justice must protect the vulnerable, that power must be restrained by memory, and that law must reflect moral experience. The first case is not about authority, but about responsibility.
Modern societies often base their laws on abstract ideals such as equality, rights, or economic efficiency. The Torah offers a different model. It builds law on memory. Israel’s laws are shaped by the experience of Egypt, and that history becomes their moral compass.
In our own lives and communities, this principle still applies. A healthy society remembers its moments of suffering and uses them to shape its values.
This means building communities that:
Moral memory is not meant to produce bitterness. It is meant to produce responsibility.
The Torah begins its civil law with a servant to teach a timeless lesson:
A society that remembers slavery will build freedom.
A society that forgets suffering will eventually recreate it.
📖 Sources




כִּי תִקְנֶה עֶבֶד עִבְרִי
The Torah commands that a Hebrew servant be acquired and treated only according to the laws of the Torah. His servitude is limited, structured, and oriented toward eventual freedom, reflecting the memory of Egypt.
לֹא תִרְדֶּה בוֹ בְּפָרֶךְ
A Hebrew servant may not be subjected to harsh or degrading labor. Even in servitude, his dignity must be preserved, reminding Israel that they themselves were once slaves.
לֹא תַעֲבֹד בּוֹ עֲבֹדַת עָבֶד
The servant must not be treated as a chattel slave or assigned humiliating tasks. The Torah limits the master’s authority in order to protect the servant’s human dignity.
הַעֲנֵק תַּעֲנִיק לוֹ
When a Hebrew servant is released, the master must provide him with gifts. His freedom must begin with dignity and material support, reflecting the spirit of redemption.
לֹא תְשַׁלְּחֶנּוּ רֵיקָם
The master is forbidden from dismissing the servant without provisions. This ensures that the transition from servitude to freedom reflects compassion and responsibility.


“Why the Torah Begins with a Slave”
Parshas Mishpatim opens with the laws of the Hebrew servant, reminding Israel of their own experience of slavery in Egypt. The Torah begins its civil legislation with this case to teach that the legal system must be built on the memory of redemption and the dignity of every human being.

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