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“Every word of Torah and every mitzvah lifts us higher — may your learning bring you closer to Hashem.”
Parshas Mishpatim carries the revelation of Sinai into the lived reality of law, teaching that covenantal holiness is expressed through justice, responsibility, and compassion in everyday life. The parsha lays out a comprehensive framework of civil, criminal, and moral law governing servants, personal injury, property damage, theft, guardianship, loans, and social trust, insisting that human dignity and accountability shape every interaction. Alongside strict demands for judicial integrity and truth, the Torah repeatedly safeguards the vulnerable — the stranger, the poor, the widow, and the orphan — and binds social ethics directly to awareness of Hashem. The section concludes by expanding from interpersonal law to national destiny: Shabbos, Shemittah, festivals, the promise of Divine guidance into the Land, and the formal sealing of the covenant, as the people affirm “נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע,” accepting a Torah meant to govern both society and soul
"Justice as the Living Expression of Sinai"
וּבַיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי תִּשְׁבֹּת
Shabbos appears here not only as a spiritual commandment but as a social institution: the servant, the stranger, and even the animals must rest. The Torah limits human power and productivity, ensuring dignity and refreshment for all. Shabbos becomes the crown of Mishpatim’s legal system, protecting the weak through sacred time.
לֹא תַעֲשֶׂה כָל מְלָאכָה
The prohibition of labor on Shabbos reinforces the same moral structure. By halting production, the Torah teaches that human beings are not tools of economic output. Society must be governed by dignity and Divine rhythm, not endless exploitation.
וְגֵר לֹא תוֹנֶה וְלֹא תִלְחָצֶנּוּ
Parshas Mishpatim repeatedly commands sensitivity to the vulnerable. The prohibition against oppressing the stranger establishes the emotional and ethical heart of the parsha. Having experienced oppression in Mitzrayim, Klal Yisroel must build a society where weakness does not invite exploitation, but compassion. This mitzvah transforms memory into morality and demands empathy as a legal obligation.
אֱלֹקִים לֹא תְקַלֵּל
In the midst of civil legislation, the Torah inserts the prohibition against cursing Hashem and leaders. This teaches that respect for authority and reverence for the Divine are the foundations of a just society. Law is not merely social structure; it reflects a covenantal order rooted in honor for Hashem.
וּבְכֹל אֲשֶׁר אָמַרְתִּי אֲלֵיכֶם תִּשָּׁמֵרוּ וְשֵׁם אֱלֹקִים אֲחֵרִים לֹא תַזְכִּירוּ
The Torah warns against introducing foreign systems of worship or authority. Even in the context of civil law, the covenant must remain spiritually pure. Mishpatim teaches that justice flows from loyalty to Hashem; when society serves other powers, its moral foundations erode.
וְשֵׁם אֱלֹקִים אֲחֵרִים לֹא תַזְכִּירוּ
The legal system must be rooted in truth and loyalty to Hashem alone. Oaths and testimony form the backbone of justice, and therefore the Torah forbids invoking the names of idols. Even speech in legal contexts must reflect the covenant.
לֹא יֵשְׁבוּ בְאַרְצְךָ פֶּן יַחֲטִיאוּ אֹתְךָ לִי
At the close of the parsha, the Torah warns that foreign nations who serve idols may spiritually corrupt the people. The just society described in Mishpatim must also be a spiritually protected society, where moral law flows from devotion to Hashem.
וַעֲבַדְתֶּם אֵת ה׳ אֱלֹקֵיכֶם
Among the civil laws, the Torah commands service of Hashem, which Chazal interpret as prayer. Mishpatim thus interweaves social justice with spiritual devotion. A righteous society requires both ethical conduct and constant awareness of the Divine.
שְׁאֵרָהּ כְּסוּתָהּ וְעֹנָתָהּ לֹא יִגְרָע
The Torah legislates emotional and physical responsibility within marriage. Even in the case of a maidservant taken as a wife, the husband must provide sustenance, dignity, and closeness. Mishpatim thus protects not only property but relationships, ensuring stability and compassion within the home.
כִּי יְפַתֶּה אִישׁ בְּתוּלָה
The Torah imposes financial and marital obligations upon the seducer. This mitzvah protects the dignity of the woman and the moral structure of society, ensuring that actions carry responsibility and that relationships are not treated lightly.
וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ
The laws of damages, loans, and interpersonal conduct all flow from the obligation to love one’s fellow. Mishpatim gives legal form to this principle.
וַאֲהַבְתֶּם אֶת הַגֵּר
The repeated warnings about the stranger in Mishpatim express this mitzvah in concrete social law.
וְלֹא תִשָּׂא עָלָיו חֵטְא
The Torah’s concern for dignity—seen in the treatment of servants, debtors, and the poor—reflects the prohibition against causing humiliation.
לֹא תִקֹּם
The legal system replaces cycles of revenge with structured justice. Mishpatim channels anger into courts, not retaliation.
וְלֹא תִטֹּר
Many of the parsha’s laws, especially those concerning enemies and debtors, aim to purify the heart from resentment and cruelty.
וְהִתְוַדּוּ אֶת חַטָּאתָם
The system of restitution and compensation presumes moral responsibility and the possibility of repair. Justice is not only punitive; it is corrective.
וְהָלַכְתָּ בִּדְרָכָיו
Parshas Mishpatim reveals a society shaped by Divine attributes. The Torah commands compassion toward the stranger, widow, orphan, debtor, servant, and even the enemy’s animal. These laws are not only social regulations; they are training in imitation of Hashem’s ways. Just as Hashem is merciful, protective, and just, so must His people reflect those traits in courts, contracts, families, and daily interactions. Mishpatim teaches that holiness is expressed not only in prayer or ritual, but in the moral texture of everyday life.
לֹא תֵלֵךְ רָכִיל בְּעַמֶּיךָ
The opening courtroom laws of Mishpatim warn against spreading false reports and joining with the wicked as a corrupt witness. Justice depends not only on laws, but on truthful speech. This mitzvah teaches that gossip, distortion, and careless testimony undermine the moral fabric of society. Mishpatim therefore builds a culture where speech is guarded, testimony is honest, and truth stands at the center of judgment.
These mitzvos together form the living architecture of Parshas Mishpatim. The thunder of Sinai becomes the quiet discipline of honesty, restraint, compassion, marital responsibility, financial integrity, reverence, and rest. The parsha teaches that holiness is not confined to the mountain, but unfolds wherever human relationships are governed by the justice of the Torah.
Rashi opens the parsha by explaining the word וְאֵלֶּה in “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים,” teaching that the civil laws of Mishpatim are not secondary or merely practical regulations. Just as the Aseres HaDibros were given at Sinai, so too these laws were given at Sinai with equal Divine authority (מכילתא; שמו״ר ל:ג).
This establishes a central principle: holiness in Torah is not confined to moments of revelation or ritual sanctity. It is expressed in courts, commerce, family life, and the administration of justice. The placement of the judicial section immediately after the laws of the mizbeach further teaches that the Sanhedrin must be situated near the Mikdash, showing that justice itself is a form of Divine service (מכילתא).
Rashi also emphasizes the phrase “אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם,” teaching that Torah law must be presented clearly and fully, like a table set with food, so that it can be understood and internalized. Torah is not meant to be recited mechanically but grasped with comprehension and clarity (מכילתא).
At the same time, the phrase “לִפְנֵיהֶם” teaches that Jewish disputes must be brought before Jewish courts. Even if foreign courts would rule correctly, bringing cases before them constitutes a desecration of Hashem’s Name and grants honor to alien systems of authority (תנחומא משפטים ג; דברים ל״ב).
Through these teachings, Rashi frames Mishpatim as the practical extension of Sinai, where Divine will becomes the structure of everyday life.
Rashi’s treatment of the laws of the Hebrew servant reveals a striking theme: even in a system that recognizes economic servitude, the Torah protects human dignity and moral responsibility.
He explains that the Hebrew servant described in the parsha is one sold by Beis Din due to theft, not a foreign slave. The servitude is limited to six years and structured around moral accountability (שמות כ״ב; דברים ט״ו; מכילתא).
If the servant entered married, the master must support his wife and children as well, teaching that the servant’s family dignity is preserved even during his term of service (קידושין כ״ב; מכילתא).
When the servant chooses to remain permanently with his master, the Torah requires the piercing of his ear. Rashi, citing Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, explains the symbolism: the ear that heard “לֹא תִּגְנֹב” or “כִּי לִי בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל עֲבָדִים” at Sinai and nevertheless chose servitude deserves to be pierced (ויקרא כ״ה; מכילתא; קידושין כ״ב).
Rabbi Shimon adds that the door and mezuzah witnessed the redemption from Egypt, where Hashem declared Israel His servants. They now stand witness as the servant voluntarily accepts a human master (קידושין כ״ב).
Rashi thus shows that even technical legal rituals carry profound moral symbolism. The Torah’s system of servitude is not about domination but about responsibility, consequence, and the preservation of human dignity.
As the parsha turns to laws of violence and injury, Rashi highlights the Torah’s careful distinctions between intention, accident, and negligence.
On the verse “מַכֵּה אִישׁ וָמֵת,” Rashi explains why the Torah uses multiple formulations regarding murder. Each verse teaches a specific legal boundary—excluding non-lethal blows, including women and minors as victims, excluding minor killers, and excluding non-viable infants. The Torah constructs liability through precise definitions rather than sweeping generalities (ויקרא כ״ד; מכילתא).
In the case of accidental killing, Rashi explains “וְהָאֱלֹקִים אִנָּה לְיָדוֹ” through a Midrash: two killers—one intentional, one accidental—who escaped justice eventually meet. Through a divinely arranged chain of events, the intentional murderer dies and the accidental killer is sent into exile, ensuring that justice is ultimately carried out (שמואל א כ״ד; מכות י׳; מכילתא).
Rashi’s reading reveals a dual system: human courts administer precise legal categories, while Divine providence ensures ultimate moral balance.
Similarly, in the laws of bodily injury, Rashi explains that “עַיִן תַּחַת עַיִן” refers not to physical retaliation but to monetary compensation. The value is assessed according to the loss in the victim’s market value, and additional payments are required for pain, medical costs, and loss of time (בבא קמא פ״ג–פ״ה).
Through these interpretations, Rashi presents a legal system grounded in rational assessment, proportionality, and fairness.
In the laws of damages, Rashi consistently emphasizes responsibility for the consequences of one’s property and actions.
An ox that kills is stoned, and even its meat becomes forbidden. The owner is declared “clean,” meaning he may derive no benefit from the animal after the sentence (בבא קמא מ״א).
Rashi explains the distinction between a תָּם (an ox that has gored once) and a מוּעָד (one known to be dangerous). A תָּם pays only half damages and only from its own body, while a מוּעָד pays full damages, reflecting the owner’s increased responsibility after prior warnings (בבא קמא כ״ג–ל״ג).
In the laws of pits, fire, and animal damage, Rashi repeatedly shows that liability rests on the one who created or failed to guard a hazard. Even if a fire spreads on its own, the one who lit it remains responsible because he did not guard it properly.
The Torah’s system, as read by Rashi, is built on accountability: one must foresee consequences and guard against harm.
In the latter sections of the parsha, Rashi highlights the Torah’s deep concern for the vulnerable.
The prohibition against oppressing a convert includes both verbal and financial oppression. Rashi explains that the Torah reminds Israel of their own history: “כִּי גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם,” teaching that one should not reproach another for a flaw he himself possesses (מכילתא).
Similarly, the Torah warns against afflicting widows and orphans. Rashi explains that the prohibition applies to all people, but Scripture highlights these groups because they are especially vulnerable and frequently mistreated (מכילתא).
In the laws of lending, Rashi teaches that lending to the poor is not optional but obligatory. He derives a hierarchy of priorities: one’s fellow Jew before a non-Jew, the poor before the wealthy, relatives before others, and the poor of one’s own city before those elsewhere (מכילתא).
Rashi also interprets the prohibition of interest metaphorically: interest is called “נֶשֶׁךְ” (a bite) because it resembles a snakebite—initially small but ultimately swelling into great harm (שמו״ר ל״א).
Even the laws of collateral reflect compassion. One must return a poor person’s garment each day or night as needed, mirroring the Divine act of returning a person’s soul each morning after sleep (תנחומא).
Across the parsha, Rashi consistently reveals a unifying theme: the laws of Mishpatim are not merely social regulations but expressions of the covenant with Hashem.
Courts must stand near the Mikdash, servants’ ears recall the voice of Sinai, Divine providence ensures justice where human courts cannot, and laws of damages, lending, and compassion all reflect the awareness that human conduct unfolds before Hashem.
Through Rashi’s lens, Mishpatim is the translation of revelation into reality. The thunder of Sinai becomes the quiet, daily practice of justice, responsibility, dignity, and compassion—where every transaction, judgment, and act of kindness becomes part of the service of Hashem.
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Ramban views Parshas Mishpatim as the direct continuation of the revelation at Sinai. After the Aseres HaDibros, the Torah immediately turns to the civil laws because they concretize the moral and theological principles already revealed. The commandments of belief in Hashem and rejection of avodah zarah are followed by laws that structure society according to Divine justice.
Ramban explains that the opening phrase, “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים,” corresponds particularly to the commandment “לֹא תַחְמֹד.” Without a legal framework defining ownership, people would naturally covet and seize what belongs to others. Therefore, the Torah establishes civil law to prevent desire from becoming theft and injustice.
He cites the Midrash: “כָּל הַתּוֹרָה כֻּלָּהּ תְּלוּיָה בַּמִּשְׁפָּט” — the entire Torah depends upon justice (שמו״ר ל:ט״ו). Mishpatim thus expresses the moral structure underlying the covenant.
Ramban also notes that many specific laws in the parsha directly elaborate the Dibros:
Thus, the civil laws are not separate from the spiritual commandments. They are their practical expression in daily life.
On the phrase “אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם,” Ramban explains that disputes must be brought before Jewish judges. Chazal derive from “לִפְנֵיהֶם” that the laws must be judged before them — meaning ordained Torah courts — and not before non-Jewish courts or unqualified individuals (תנחומא; גיטין פח.).
The Torah could have said “אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לָהֶם,” but instead says “לִפְנֵיהֶם,” indicating formal judicial procedure. Ramban supports this from verses where “לִפְנֵי” clearly refers to standing before judges, such as:
These judges must be properly ordained with semichah tracing back to Moshe Rabbeinu. It is forbidden to appoint an unqualified layman as judge or to bring cases before non-Jewish courts, even if their ruling would match Torah law.
However, if two litigants voluntarily accept a knowledgeable Jewish layman as arbitrator, his ruling stands. The absolute prohibition applies only to non-Jewish courts.
Ramban explains that the Torah begins the mishpatim with the Hebrew servant because his release in the seventh year recalls Yetzias Mitzrayim:
(“וְזָכַרְתָּ כִּי עֶבֶד הָיִיתָ… וַיִּפְדְּךָ ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ” (דברים ט״ו:ט״ו.
This law also alludes to the structure of creation. Just as the seventh day is Shabbos, the seventh year brings freedom to the servant, and the cycle culminates in Yovel. These sevens reflect the deeper pattern of creation from “בְּרֵאשִׁית” until “וַיְכֻלּוּ” (בראשית א–ב).
Because of this profound symbolism, the Torah places the Hebrew servant first among the civil laws. The institution of servitude itself becomes a reminder of redemption, creation, and the ultimate freedom embedded in the Divine order.
Ramban adds that the prophet Yirmiyahu harshly rebuked the people for neglecting this mitzvah, and exile came as punishment — just as exile comes for neglecting the Shemittah of the land (ירמיה ל״ד; ויקרא כ״ו).
Ramban’s treatment of the Hebrew maidservant emphasizes the Torah’s compassion within legal structure. When the verse states “וְיָצְאָה אִשְׁתּוֹ עִמּוֹ,” he explains that the master must support the servant’s wife and children. The Torah ensures that the servant does not suffer knowing his family is abandoned while he labors in another’s house.
The master assumes the husband’s obligations:
However, the wife is not a slave; she may refuse the master’s support and retain her independence.
Ramban shows that these laws reflect Divine compassion. Although a husband is not strictly obligated by Torah law to support his family, it is the normal practice of the world. Therefore, Hashem commands the master to act like a compassionate father toward them.
In the laws of the maidservant designated for marriage, Ramban explains that the Torah requires the master or his son to treat her as a daughter, providing a dowry and proper marital dignity.
He further interprets the phrase “שְׁאֵרָהּ כְּסוּתָהּ וְעֹנָתָהּ” as referring to the core elements of marital life:
The Torah prohibits a husband from treating one wife with honor while degrading another. The law protects the dignity and emotional security of the maidservant turned wife.
On the phrase “וְהִגִּישׁוֹ אֶל הָאֱלֹהִים,” Ramban explains that judges are called “אֱלֹהִים” because Hashem stands among them. Judgment truly belongs to Him:
(“כִּי הַמִּשְׁפָּט לֵאלֹהִים הוּא” (דברים א:י״ז.
He cites verses describing Hashem as present in the court:
A Midrash teaches that when a judge rules truthfully, the Shechinah descends and stands beside him (שמו״ר ל:כ״ד).
Thus, the courtroom becomes a place of Divine presence. Human justice is not merely social order; it is participation in Hashem’s own judgment.
Ramban often explains not only the halachah but its moral or psychological reasoning.
Regarding the death penalty for striking one’s parents, he explains why the Torah is even more severe regarding one who curses them. Cursing is more common and may occur impulsively in anger. A frequently committed sin requires stronger punishment.
Alternatively, cursing involves invoking the Divine Name, combining an offense against parents with an offense against Hashem.
He also cites Rav Saadia Gaon’s explanation for the placement of the kidnapping law between the laws of striking and cursing parents. Kidnapped children may grow up unaware of their parents and later strike or curse them unknowingly. The kidnapper is therefore punished like one who commits those offenses, because he is the cause of them.
Ramban thus reads the Torah’s legal structure as morally coherent and psychologically perceptive.
On the phrase “עַיִן תַּחַת עַיִן,” Ramban affirms the received tradition that it refers to monetary compensation. He supports this from other verses where similar language clearly refers to payment, such as:
“נֶפֶשׁ תַּחַת נֶפֶשׁ” regarding animals (ויקרא כ״ד:י״ח).
He adds a logical argument: earlier, the Torah requires the assailant to pay for lost time and medical expenses. If the punishment were literal retaliation, the assailant himself would then require compensation. The law therefore must refer to monetary payment.
Ramban also explores how the verse might be read literally in certain cases of permanent injury, but concludes that the received tradition of the Sages is the true interpretation.
When the Torah says regarding a dangerous ox, “וְגַם בְּעָלָיו יוּמָת,” Ramban explains that this refers to death at the hands of Heaven, not execution by the court. The wording differs from the usual formula for judicial death sentences.
The ransom payment mentioned afterward functions as atonement, similar to a korban. Because it serves as atonement, the owner cannot be forced to accept it; the verse says “אִם” — if ransom is placed upon him, indicating that it depends on his acceptance of the atonement.
This reflects Ramban’s broader theme: the Torah’s civil laws are not merely about social order but about moral responsibility before Hashem.
Across the parsha, Ramban presents a unified vision. The mishpatim are not independent civil regulations but direct extensions of the covenant at Sinai. They express the principles of the Aseres HaDibros in the structures of society.
Justice prevents coveting. Servitude recalls redemption. Marriage laws protect dignity. Courts become places of Divine presence. Criminal law reflects moral psychology. Damages laws express proportional justice. Atonement laws remind man of his accountability before Heaven.
In Ramban’s reading, Mishpatim teaches that holiness is not confined to revelation on the mountain. It is realized wherever the Torah’s laws govern human relationships — in homes, courts, fields, and marketplaces — turning the entire social order into a reflection of the Divine covenant.
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Parshas Mishpatim represents the moment when the revelation at Har Sinai descends from thunder and fire into the concrete structures of human society. Where Yisro revealed the absolute sovereignty of Hashem in the Aseres HaDibros, Mishpatim reveals how that sovereignty must shape courts, labor, damages, property, compassion, and responsibility. In the Rambam’s worldview, this movement from revelation to law is not incidental; it is the very purpose of Torah.
For the Rambam, the ultimate goal of Torah is the perfection of the human being — intellectually, morally, and socially. In the Moreh Nevuchim (ג:כ״ז–כ״ח), he explains that the Torah aims at two great perfections: the perfection of the soul (knowledge of Hashem) and the perfection of the body (a just and orderly society). Parshas Mishpatim stands at the center of that second goal. It teaches that without justice, restraint, and responsibility, no society can sustain the conditions necessary for spiritual growth.
The Rambam in Hilchos De’os describes the ideal human being as one who walks the derech ha’emtzai, the balanced path of moral moderation (הלכות דעות א–ג). The laws of Mishpatim reflect this principle. Punishments are measured; damages are assessed with precision; courts operate with procedure and witnesses; even the treatment of servants is bounded by time, dignity, and structure. The Torah does not legislate emotional reactions but rational justice. This reflects the Rambam’s belief that true morality is not born from passion or instinct, but from disciplined reason guided by Torah.
In Hilchos Sanhedrin, the Rambam stresses that judges must be wise, humble, God-fearing, lovers of truth, and distant from greed (הלכות סנהדרין ב:ז). This ideal flows directly from the parsha’s opening: “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים” — the laws that create a society governed by justice. The Rambam explains that the court system is the backbone of civilization; without it, society collapses into violence and chaos. The Torah therefore begins its civil legislation immediately after Sinai, showing that Divine revelation must be expressed through human justice.
Parshas Mishpatim also reflects the Rambam’s understanding of freedom. In Hilchos Teshuvah, he teaches that free will is the foundation of Torah: “רְשׁוּת כָּל אָדָם נְתוּנָה לוֹ” (הלכות תשובה ה:א). The laws of damages, theft, negligence, and responsibility assume that human beings are accountable agents. The Torah does not treat people as victims of fate, but as moral actors who must answer for their actions. Responsibility is therefore the practical expression of free will.
The Rambam also emphasizes the eradication of cruelty and the cultivation of compassion. In Hilchos Avadim, he rules that one must treat a servant with dignity, provide him with food and comfort, and never degrade him (הלכות עבדים ט:ח). This reflects the Torah’s laws in Mishpatim governing the eved Ivri. Even within economic realities, the Torah imposes ethical structure. For the Rambam, this demonstrates that the Torah seeks to refine character and eliminate brutality from society.
The repeated commands to protect the stranger, widow, and orphan embody what the Rambam calls the imitation of Hashem’s ways. In Hilchos De’os (א:ו), he writes that a person must emulate the Divine attributes: just as Hashem is merciful, so must we be merciful. The social laws of Mishpatim are therefore not merely civil statutes; they are training in Divine imitation. A just society is a society that reflects the moral attributes of its Creator.
In the Rambam’s understanding, the laws of damages and restitution also serve an intellectual purpose. By establishing predictable consequences for actions, the Torah teaches cause and effect, discipline, and foresight. A society governed by law trains the mind toward rational order. This prepares the individual for higher knowledge — ultimately, the knowledge of Hashem Himself.
The covenant at the end of the parsha — “נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע” — reflects another Rambamian principle. In Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah, the Rambam explains that faith must be grounded in knowledge, not blind acceptance. Yet action precedes full understanding. By committing first to obedience, Klal Yisroel enters a disciplined life of mitzvos that gradually refines the intellect and character, making true knowledge possible. Action becomes the path to comprehension.
Thus, Parshas Mishpatim, through the lens of the Rambam, teaches that the highest spiritual goals are achieved through the most practical laws. Justice, restraint, responsibility, and compassion are not secondary to revelation; they are its fulfillment. The society shaped by these laws becomes the environment in which human beings can reach their ultimate purpose: the knowledge and love of Hashem.
At the end of the legal corpus of Mishpatim, the Torah commands:
שֵׁשֶׁת יָמִים תַּעֲשֶׂה מַעֲשֶׂיךָ וּבַיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי תִּשְׁבֹּת
“Six days you shall do your work, and on the seventh day you shall rest” (Shemos 23:12).
The verse does not present Shabbos as a private spiritual experience. Instead, it frames the day of rest as a social institution:
For Rambam, this reflects one of the central purposes of the Torah itself. In the Moreh Nevuchim (III:27–28), he explains that the Torah has two fundamental aims:
Shabbos uniquely accomplishes both.
On the social level, it imposes a universal limit on labor. No person, no servant, and no animal may be driven endlessly for profit. The strongest members of society are restrained, and the most vulnerable are protected. In this way, Shabbos is not only a religious commandment; it is a structural safeguard for human dignity.
On the intellectual and spiritual level, Shabbos turns the human mind away from production and toward reflection. In Hilchos Shabbos, Rambam describes the day as a time of rest, honor, and delight, but in his philosophical works he explains that the deeper purpose of such commandments is to orient the human being toward contemplation of the Creator.
Thus Shabbos serves as a weekly reenactment of the Torah’s twofold goal:
In the context of Mishpatim, this is especially significant. After presenting dozens of civil laws governing damages, servants, and property, the Torah reminds Israel that justice alone is not enough. A society must also build sacred time into its structure. Without rest, reflection, and recognition of the Creator, even a just society can become purely mechanical and material.
Shabbos therefore stands at the conclusion of the parsha as the philosophical crown of its legal system. The laws of Mishpatim create a society of justice; Shabbos ensures that such a society remains humane, reflective, and oriented toward the knowledge of Hashem.
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Ralbag explains that the opening section of the parsha, “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים,” establishes the legal framework by which courts must judge between people according to these Divine laws. The Torah begins with the laws of the Hebrew servant to address the reality of poverty and theft in society.
The Torah limits the term of servitude to six years, after which the servant goes free in the seventh year without payment or document. This structure ensures that no Israelite remains in a permanent state of degradation or poverty. The servant’s condition is temporary, and the memory of eventual freedom provides consolation and hope.
Ralbag emphasizes that the master must support the servant’s wife and children when the servant entered with a family, because the servant himself is obligated to support them. From here he derives that a father is responsible for the sustenance of his children at least until the age of six. Beyond that age, the obligation is uncertain and may be enforced only through the laws of charity.
The laws governing the servant’s marriage to a Canaanite maidservant also serve a moral purpose. If the servant had a family when he entered servitude, the master may compel him to marry a maidservant, producing children who will belong to the master. This arrangement is designed to discourage theft, since the thief will find it painful that his offspring are not considered his own. By contrast, if he entered without a wife and children, the Torah does not impose this burden, because one who has no family does not feel this loss as strongly.
If the servant declares, “אָהַבְתִּי אֶת אֲדֹנִי,” and chooses to remain, the Torah requires his ear to be pierced publicly before the judges. Ralbag explains that this public act humiliates the servant and exposes his moral deficiency. The Torah intentionally makes the process degrading in order to discourage the servant from choosing permanent servitude for the sake of his attachment to the Canaanite maidservant. The embarrassment serves as a corrective moral force.
He also clarifies that the term “לְעוֹלָם” refers only to the longest possible term for a Hebrew servant, meaning until the Jubilee year. At that time, all Hebrew servants are freed, demonstrating that the institution of servitude among Israel is fundamentally temporary and restorative.
Ralbag explains that the Torah allows a father to sell his daughter as a maidservant only when she is a minor and still under his authority. The purpose of this law is not to degrade her, but to create the possibility that the master or his son will marry her. This discourages the father from selling her except to someone he would be willing to accept as a husband for his daughter.
The Torah therefore requires that the master either designate her for marriage, arrange for her redemption, or treat her as a proper wife. It is improper for her to remain in his household without this structure, because it could lead to moral corruption or exploitation. The laws ensure that her status moves toward marriage or freedom, not toward degradation.
Ralbag explains that the Torah grants the father the authority to sell his daughter, but not his son, because the woman was created to assist the man, and therefore the father has authority over her labor in this way. However, once she reaches the age of maturity, she leaves the authority of both father and master.
He further explains that the Torah’s system ensures that she will not remain a servant beyond six years, and that she may also leave earlier through signs of maturity or redemption. All these laws protect her dignity and prevent permanent servitude.
Ralbag explains that the Torah’s command not to diminish a wife’s “שְׁאֵרָהּ כְּסוּתָהּ וְעֹנָתָהּ” serves an essential social function.
If a husband failed to provide food and clothing, the wife would be constantly preoccupied with acquiring basic necessities, and she would not be able to provide the companionship and support for which marriage was instituted. Likewise, if the husband were allowed to withhold conjugal relations, this could lead her toward immoral behavior, damaging both the family and society.
The Torah therefore obligates the husband to provide these needs according to his means. A poor man must provide the minimum necessities, while a wealthy man must provide according to his wealth. The same principle applies to marital relations, which must be suited to the husband’s profession and circumstances.
These laws ensure stability within the household and prevent moral and social breakdown.
Ralbag explains that the Torah’s laws of murder and injury are designed to protect the stability of society. Anyone who intentionally murders another must be executed, even if he attempts to cling to the altar for protection. This demonstrates that justice cannot be evaded through religious pretense.
He notes that the Torah’s phrase “כִּי יָזִד אִישׁ” teaches that capital punishment applies only to a person of sound mind who acts with deliberate intent. Those who lack understanding, such as minors or the mentally incompetent, are not subject to this punishment.
The Torah applies these laws equally to men and women, because the goal is the removal of harm from society. The preservation of the social order requires that all who intentionally cause lethal harm be punished.
Similarly, the laws of assault establish that the assailant must compensate the victim for lost labor and medical expenses. This reflects the principle that justice requires restoration of the damage caused, not arbitrary punishment.
Ralbag explains at length that the Torah’s principle of “עַיִן תַּחַת עַיִן” must be understood as monetary compensation, not literal physical retaliation.
He presents several arguments:
He also explains that the offender must compensate the victim for five categories of damage:
These payments reflect the Torah’s commitment to proportional justice and rational legal order.
Ralbag further explains that monetary compensation is more just and precise than physical retaliation, because bodily punishments cannot be measured accurately according to the exact harm caused.
Throughout the parsha, Ralbag emphasizes that the Torah’s legal system is designed to preserve the “קיבוץ המדיני” — the social order of the community.
The laws:
In this way, the Torah’s civil laws are not merely technical statutes, but instruments for creating a just, stable, and morally ordered society.
Within the broader structure of the mitzvos, the Ralbag emphasizes that the commandments are designed to preserve the stability of society and the well-being of its members. Many of the civil laws aim to prevent harm, regulate relationships, and maintain the integrity of the community. Their purpose is not only legal but teleological: they protect the framework necessary for human flourishing.
In this context, the command of Shabbos functions as a structural safeguard for human life. Just as the laws of damages and servitude limit exploitation and violence, so too the cessation from labor ensures that the worker, the servant, and even the animal are granted rest. The Torah thus embeds compassion into the rhythm of time itself, not only into courts and contracts.
Shabbos therefore reflects the same philosophical principle found throughout Mishpatim:
In this way, the weekly cessation from labor stands alongside the civil laws as part of a unified system designed to sustain the ordered and moral society that the Torah seeks to build.
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The Chassidic masters read Parshas Mishpatim not merely as a legal code, but as a revelation of the inner order of the soul. The mishpatim are not only social laws; they are spiritual pathways through which the hidden unity of the world is revealed. What appears as human justice is, in truth, a reflection of a deeper, Divine justice operating beneath the surface of existence.
On the opening words, “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים” (שמות כ״א:א׳), the Baal Shem Tov cites the Zohar’s interpretation that these ordinances allude to the cycles of reincarnation. Even when a court ruling appears unjust to human eyes, it may be correcting a spiritual debt from a previous life. The Torah’s judgment is therefore always true, even when its reasons are hidden.
Thus, the laws of damages, loans, and responsibility become expressions of Divine providence. What appears as ordinary litigation is, in reality, a rectification of souls and a revelation of higher justice.
The Baal Shem Tov further interprets the “four categories of damages” (בבא קמא ב ע״א) as inner spiritual states:
These are not only external damages, but inner forces within the soul that must be guarded and rectified.
On the verse “אַל־תָּשֶׁת יָדְךָ עִם־רָשָׁע” (שמות כ״ג:א׳), the Baal Shem Tov teaches that one must never speak ill of another Jew. If a person speaks negatively, the evil inclination will later call him to testify against that person in the heavenly court.
A story is told of a disciple who rebuked another for interrupting prayer. The Baal Shem Tov saw that this rebuke caused a heavenly decree of death. Only after the critic himself found a merit in his fellow was the decree annulled. The lesson: judging another harshly creates real spiritual consequences.
The Kedushas Levi interprets the verse “וְהִשְׁתַּחֲוִיתֶם מֵרָחֹק” (שמות כ״ד:א׳) as describing two dimensions of our relationship with Hashem: distance and nearness.
From these two perceptions arise two emotional responses:
The act of bowing expresses awe born from the awareness of His transcendence, yet through that very act, one draws down blessing from the Infinite into the world.
On the verse “וַיָּבֹא מֹשֶׁה וַיְסַפֵּר לָעָם” (שמות כ״ד:ג׳), the Kedushas Levi explains that Moshe was not merely repeating laws the people already knew. He was telling them how much delight Hashem takes in their observance of mitzvos, and how their actions bring joy and blessing to all worlds.
When the people heard this, they responded, “נַעֲשֶׂה”—not only as obedience, but as a desire to bring more delight to Hashem and more blessing to the world.
On the vision beneath the Divine Throne, “כְּמַעֲשֵׂה לִבְנַת הַסַּפִּיר” (שמות כ״ד:י׳), the Kedushas Levi explains that every creature must remain connected to its root in the Infinite (אין סוף).
This is the meaning of “רָצוֹא וָשׁוֹב” (יחזקאל א:י״ד)—a constant movement of returning to the source and then re-entering the world.
The Sfas Emes explains that the mishpatim, though logically understandable, are rooted in Divine will. Even the most rational law is holy because it was commanded at Sinai.
True understanding comes only after surrendering one’s ego to the Divine will.
On the verse “הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי שֹׁלֵחַ מַלְאָךְ” (שמות כ״ג:כ׳), the Sfas Emes teaches that even ordinary weekday actions contain hidden holiness.
Eating, working, and daily tasks can all become channels of blessing when connected to Hashem.
On “לְמַעַן יָנוּחַ שׁוֹרְךָ וַחֲמֹרֶךָ” (שמות כ״ג:י״ב), the Sfas Emes explains that Shabbos uplifts even the lowest aspects of creation.
Shabbos is the revelation of harmony, when all conflict resolves into Divine unity.
On the law of the Hebrew servant, the Sfas Emes explains why the ear is pierced after six years if he refuses to go free.
True freedom is service of Hashem alone.
The Sfas Emes interprets the laws of the watchman (שומרים) as a parable for the soul.
If a person resists the thief, he gains double—like the thief who must pay double when caught. This is the spiritual meaning of teshuvah, where even sins can be transformed into merits (בבא מציעא ל״ד ע״א).
The Sfas Emes, citing the Zohar (ג׳:קי״א ע״ב), teaches that a Jew serves Hashem in two ways:
Through the struggle of the weekdays, one merits the harmony of Shabbos.
In the Chassidic vision, the mishpatim are not merely laws regulating society. They are the spiritual architecture of the world and the soul.
Through the mishpatim, the Torah teaches that holiness is not only found in the heavens, but in every interaction between people. When a person lives by these laws with faith, humility, and awareness, the hidden Divine order of the world begins to shine through everyday life.
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Parshas Mishpatim takes the thunder and fire of Sinai and translates them into the quiet, demanding work of building a just society. Here, revelation becomes responsibility. The ideals proclaimed at the mountain are not left as abstract principles or spiritual experiences; they are woven into the fabric of daily life through laws governing slaves and masters, strangers and citizens, enemies and friends, judges and leaders. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks shows that beneath the legal detail lies a unified moral vision: the Torah seeks to create a society shaped by empathy, responsibility, and covenantal duty. Its laws train the heart as well as the hand, turning memory into morality, vision into structure, and faith into action.
Parshas Mishpatim marks a dramatic shift in the Torah’s narrative. After the thunder of Sinai, we encounter a detailed legal code. Yet beneath these laws lies a profound moral revolution. Again and again, the Torah commands: care for the stranger, help the enemy, defend the vulnerable. This is not incidental. It is the beating heart of the covenantal society the Torah seeks to create.
Human beings are naturally tribal. We form bonds with those like us, and those bonds can inspire great loyalty and kindness. Yet the very same instincts that bind us to our own group often blind us to the humanity of others. Morality, as Rabbi Sacks explains, “binds and blinds.” It creates an “us,” but in doing so it also creates a “them.” Throughout history, this instinct has led to oppression, violence, and cruelty toward the stranger.
The Torah confronts this reality directly. It does not assume that knowledge, reason, or sentiment alone will make people moral. Human beings have often been educated, cultured, and rational—and yet capable of great evil. The Torah therefore builds empathy into law itself, commanding the people to care for those who are not like them.
This is why the Torah repeats the command to love or not oppress the stranger more than any other law. The reason given is always the same: “You know the heart of the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” (שמות כ״ג:ט׳). The Israelites’ suffering was not only a historical experience; it was a moral education. Having known the pain of exclusion and oppression, they are commanded to become a society that protects the outsider.
The Torah is, in this sense, a protest against the cruelty of empires and the arrogance of power. It seeks to build a society in which the widow, the orphan, and above all the stranger are protected. The Jewish people themselves were shaped by exile and displacement so that they would forever remember what it feels like to be a stranger.
The message is radical and timeless: the stranger is not “other.” The stranger is you.
Empathy is not an optional moral extra. It is the foundation of a just society. The Torah understands that law without empathy becomes cold and harsh. Justice alone is not enough; it must be tempered by compassion.
The Torah therefore embeds empathy into its narratives. It tells the stories of Hagar and Yishmael, of Esav, of Leah—the rejected, the unloved, the outsider. These stories force us to see the world from another person’s perspective. Narrative becomes a school for the emotions, training the heart to recognize the dignity of others.
This is why the Torah includes stories at all. It is, after all, largely a book of law. Yet without narrative, law would be abstract and detached. By entering the inner lives of others, we learn compassion. As Rashi teaches, the world could not survive on strict justice alone; it required the addition of mercy.
Empathy also has practical power. It can transform situations that force cannot. Rabbi Sacks illustrates this with the story of a drunk man on a train who is disarmed not by strength but by kindness and understanding. Where confrontation would have led to violence, empathy leads to healing.
To change someone’s behavior, one must enter their mindset, see through their eyes, and speak to their emotions. This is not easy. Few people do it. But those who do can change lives—and sometimes the course of history.
One of the most striking laws in Mishpatim concerns helping an enemy:
“If you see your enemy’s donkey collapsing under its burden… you must surely help him” (שמות כ״ג:ה׳).
The Torah here introduces a principle of great moral beauty: even an enemy remains a fellow human being. Hostility may divide you, but there is something deeper that unites you—the covenant of human solidarity.
The Sages note a remarkable nuance. If you must choose between helping a friend or an enemy, you should help the enemy first, in order to overcome your evil inclination. The command is not only about helping the animal. It is about transforming the human heart.
The Aramaic translation goes further, suggesting that the verse means: release not only the burden from the animal, but also the hatred from your heart. Helping an enemy becomes a spiritual exercise in overcoming resentment.
Yet the Torah is realistic. It does not command us to love our enemies in the abstract. Instead, it gives a practical step: when your enemy is in trouble, help him. Small acts of assistance can gradually dissolve hatred and build trust. The goal is not perfection, but social harmony.
There is also an important principle of responsibility. The Torah requires that the owner of the animal participate in the effort. If he refuses, the passerby is exempt. Moral responsibility must be shared. Helping someone who refuses responsibility can create dependency and weaken society. The Torah is not a code of personal saintliness alone; it is a blueprint for a healthy social order.
At the heart of this law lies a beautiful teaching: “Who is a hero? One who turns an enemy into a friend.”
History shows how difficult this command truly is. Many of humanity’s greatest crimes have been committed against those seen as outsiders. Societies have often dehumanized the stranger, calling them vermin, cockroaches, or barbarians. Once the other is seen as less than human, moral restraints collapse.
Even great philosophical systems have struggled to solve this problem. Plato believed knowledge would lead to virtue. Aristotle believed virtue came from habit. Enlightenment thinkers spoke of sympathy and reason. Yet none of these alone prevented cruelty. Human beings remain tribal creatures, capable of kindness to their own group and cruelty to others.
The Torah therefore takes a different approach. It does not rely on abstract reasoning alone. It commands the people to remember their own suffering. Memory becomes the moral force that counters hatred.
The Jewish experience of exile, persecution, and vulnerability is not accidental. It forms the moral core of the Torah’s vision. By remembering what it is like to be a stranger, the Jewish people are called to defend the dignity of all strangers.
This is why the Torah insists again and again: do not oppress the stranger. You know what it feels like. You were once strangers yourselves.
The power of this command can be seen in real life. Rabbi Sacks recounts the story of a Hungarian nationalist politician who discovered that he himself was Jewish, descended from Holocaust survivors. This revelation transformed his life. He left the antisemitic movement he had served and became a defender of human rights.
The story illustrates a profound truth: when we recognize ourselves in the other, our moral perspective changes. The stranger is no longer an abstract category. He is part of our own story.
This is the Torah’s deepest message. To be a Jew is, in a sense, to be a stranger—to know what it feels like to be outside the circle of power. That memory becomes the source of a universal moral mission.
The Torah therefore asks: why should you not hate the stranger?
Because the stranger is you.
At the heart of Jewish faith stands a remarkable claim: the Written Torah cannot be understood on its own. Between the text and its meaning stands the act of interpretation. Without an authoritative tradition of interpretation—the Oral Law—there would be confusion, contradiction, and ultimately the collapse of religious life.
The Sages illustrated this truth through a famous story. A non-Jew approached Hillel and asked to be converted on condition that he accept only the Written Torah and reject the Oral Law. Hillel agreed to teach him. On the first day he taught him the Hebrew alphabet: aleph, bet, gimel, dalet. On the second day he reversed the order. When the man protested, Hillel replied: “You see, you have to rely on me even to learn the alphabet. Rely on me also for the Oral Law” (שבת ל״א א).
The lesson is simple but profound. No text speaks for itself. Every text requires interpretation. Without shared principles of interpretation, there can be no teaching, no learning, no authority, and no communication. The Torah’s meaning lives within a tradition, not in isolated words alone.
The power of interpretation becomes strikingly clear in a law found in Parshas Mishpatim. The Torah describes a case in which two men are fighting and accidentally strike a pregnant woman, causing her to miscarry:
“If there is no fatal damage [אָסוֹן], he must pay a fine… But if there is fatal damage, then you shall give life for life” (שמות כ״א:כ״ב–כ״ג).
The key word is ason—calamity, harm, or disaster. According to the Sages, the verse means that if the woman miscarries but suffers no further injury, the offender pays damages. If the woman herself dies, the crime is far more serious. From this, Jewish law concludes that causing a miscarriage is not a capital offense. The fetus is not yet considered a full legal person.
However, in the Hellenistic Jewish world of Alexandria, a very different interpretation arose. The philosopher Philo understood ason to refer not to the woman, but to the fetus itself. He distinguished between an “unformed” fetus and one that had taken shape. If the fetus was formed, causing its death was considered murder.
This single interpretive shift had enormous historical consequences. Early Christianity, dependent on Greek translations and commentaries, adopted the Alexandrian view rather than the rabbinic one. Over time, this became the basis for the Christian teaching that abortion is murder at any stage.
Thus, from a single word—ason—emerged two different moral and legal traditions. The example illustrates how interpretation shapes civilization. Without a living tradition, a text becomes vulnerable to radically different meanings.
The need for interpretation is only one part of a larger insight. Parshas Mishpatim itself embodies a profound structural principle of Torah: the fusion of narrative and law.
Up until this point, Sefer Shemos has been a sweeping drama—slavery, plagues, liberation, the splitting of the sea, the revelation at Sinai. Suddenly, the narrative stops. In its place comes a dense legal code covering everything from damages to social justice, from servants to festivals.
Why interrupt the story?
The answer lies in the nature of leadership and the Torah’s vision of society. Great leaders know how to connect grand ideals with precise details. Vision without detail becomes empty rhetoric. Detail without vision becomes tedious bureaucracy. True greatness lies in joining the two.
The Torah does exactly this. The Israelites experienced slavery so that they would cherish freedom. They suffered oppression so that they would build a just society. At Sinai they were given a mission: to become “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”
But ideals alone cannot sustain a nation. They must be translated into daily life. That is the purpose of Mishpatim. Here, vision becomes detail, and narrative becomes law.
Many of the laws in Mishpatim directly reflect the Israelites’ historical experience.
For example:
These laws transform memory into morality. The Israelites’ suffering becomes the foundation of their social order.
Slavery is not abolished overnight. Instead, it is gradually transformed—from a permanent condition of birth into a temporary state. Over time, such laws set the stage for its eventual disappearance. Moral progress is built into the legal structure itself.
This relationship between story and law was described by the legal scholar Robert Cover as the connection between “nomos” and “narrative.”
A nomos is a vision of an ideal social order. A narrative is the story that explains why that vision exists.
In most societies, law and narrative are separate. Law codes rarely contain stories, and historical narratives rarely contain legal systems. But the Torah is unique. It weaves them together.
The Torah is:
The word “Torah” itself reflects this unity. It means law, but also teaching, guidance, and direction. It is both narrative and legislation in one.
This combination gives Torah its enduring power. It does not merely tell people what to do. It explains why those actions matter, rooted in a shared memory and collective mission.
From this structure emerges a powerful model of leadership.
A great leader:
Without vision, people lose motivation.
Without narrative, they lose identity.
Without law, they lose direction.
The Torah integrates all three. It turns the pain of the past into the blueprint of the future. It teaches that a just society is not built by ideals alone, but by the patient work of shaping daily life according to those ideals.
In Mishpatim, the drama of the Exodus becomes a legal system. The memory of slavery becomes the foundation of freedom. The vision of holiness becomes the structure of society.
This extraordinary fusion of story and law, vision and detail, is what gives the Torah its unique and lasting influence.
Near the end of Parshas Mishpatim, the Torah records one of the most famous declarations in Jewish history:
“Na’aseh ve-nishma” — “We will do and we will hear” (שמות כ״ד:ז׳).
These words were spoken when the people accepted the covenant at Sinai. They stand in sharp contrast to the many complaints and rebellions that follow in the wilderness. At this moment, the people rose to extraordinary spiritual heights.
The Sages describe the scene in striking terms. When the Israelites said “We will do” before “We will hear,” heavenly voices praised them, and angels placed crowns upon their heads (שבת פ״ח א). Their response was seen as angelic, expressing complete trust in Hashem.
Yet the meaning of these words is not as simple as it seems.
The word na’aseh is clear: “We will do.” It refers to action, behavior, and deed. But nishma is more complex. It can mean:
This leads to several classic interpretations.
The Talmud and Rashi understand the phrase as an expression of total faith. The people accepted the covenant even before hearing its details. They placed obedience before understanding.
Rashbam explains that the people were referring both backward and forward. They would fulfill the commands already given, and remain faithful to whatever new commands would follow. Here nishma means to hearken or obey.
Sforno reads the phrase as a single idea expressed in two words. The people were saying they would act in obedience to Hashem’s will, not for personal benefit but out of loyalty to the One who redeemed them.
According to the Akeidat Yitzchak, nishma means “we will understand.” The people were expressing a profound philosophical insight: some things can only be understood through action. We learn leadership by leading, music by listening, and faith by living it.
Judaism cannot be understood from the outside. Only by living the mitzvos does their inner meaning gradually become clear.
A closer look at the Torah’s narrative reveals something even more subtle. The Israelites accepted the covenant three times:
The first two statements emphasize unity: the people responded “together” and “with one voice.” The third does not mention unanimity, but adds the phrase “we will hear.”
This difference is meaningful.
At the level of action—na’aseh—the people were united. Judaism is fundamentally a system of deeds. It is a way of life, a code of behavior. Despite differences of custom or legal opinion, the Jewish people have always been bound together by shared practice.
At the level of understanding—nishma—there is room for diversity. Judaism has always included rationalists and mystics, philosophers and poets, scholars and saints. Each person receives the revelation in a way suited to his or her own understanding, as the Sages say: each heard the Divine voice according to their own capacity.
Unity lies in action, not in uniformity of thought.
This insight explains one of Judaism’s defining features. It is not primarily a system of abstract beliefs, but a community of practice.
Across the generations, Jews have differed in philosophy, interpretation, and spiritual style. There were the schools of Hillel and Shammai, the debates of Abaye and Rava, the disagreements between Rambam and the Rosh. Yet these differences rarely fractured the people, because they shared the same framework of halachic life.
Action creates unity. Thought allows diversity.
This is why the Torah emphasizes deed before understanding. What unites the Jewish people is not a single way of thinking, but a shared way of living.
This does not mean that Judaism lacks beliefs. It certainly has them. Many sages summarized the essentials of Jewish faith in three fundamental ideas:
Within these broad foundations, however, there is room for different understandings. People approach faith through different paths—philosophy, mysticism, poetry, study, or lived experience. Judaism allows this diversity, provided the shared framework of action remains intact.
Even Maimonides, who formalized the thirteen principles of faith, was later accused of heresy by some opponents. This irony serves as a warning: excessive rigidity in belief can fracture the community.
The Torah therefore offers a balanced model. There is unity in deed, and openness in understanding.
At its deepest level, na’aseh ve-nishma teaches a profound spiritual truth: action leads to understanding.
Many aspects of life can only be grasped through experience. One cannot learn compassion without acts of kindness, or discipline without practice, or faith without commitment. Knowledge grows out of lived reality.
This principle lies at the heart of Judaism. Mitzvos are not merely obligations. They are pathways to insight. Through action, the soul is shaped and the mind is enlightened.
Thus the covenant at Sinai was not merely an agreement to believe certain truths. It was a commitment to live a certain way, trusting that through that life, understanding would come.
The Israelites declared:
We will act together.
We will understand in our own ways.
Action unites us. Understanding guides us. Together, they form the covenantal life.
Parshas Mishpatim marks a turning point in the Torah’s narrative. Until now, the story has been filled with drama: slavery, plagues, liberation, the splitting of the sea, and the revelation at Sinai. Suddenly, the narrative gives way to a long and detailed code of laws.
At first glance, this seems like an interruption. Why move from the grandeur of revelation to the minutiae of civil law? Why not continue directly to the next dramatic event, the sin of the Golden Calf?
The answer lies in the nature of leadership and the Torah’s vision of society. Great leaders understand that vision alone is not enough. A vision must be translated into detail. Ideals must become institutions. Inspiration must become structure.
Without vision, the details of life become burdensome and uninspiring. Without attention to detail, vision remains empty and unrealized. The task of leadership is to connect the two.
The Torah does precisely this. At Sinai, the people received a mission: to become “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” In Mishpatim, that vision begins to take concrete form.
A well-known story tells of three workers cutting stone. When asked what they are doing, the first replies, “I am cutting stone.” The second says, “I am earning a living.” The third says, “I am building a palace.” The third worker sees the larger vision behind the task, and therefore works with pride and purpose.
Great leaders communicate that larger vision. They show people that their daily work is part of something greater.
Yet great leaders are also attentive to detail. They know that the difference between mediocrity and excellence lies in careful execution. Inspiration alone is not enough. As Thomas Edison said, genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.
The Torah applies this principle to society as a whole. The Israelites experienced slavery so that they would value freedom. They suffered oppression so that they would build a society of justice and compassion. But these lessons would be lost unless they were translated into daily practice.
Mishpatim is that translation. It takes the ideals of Sinai and turns them into laws governing everyday life.
The laws of Mishpatim reveal a remarkable feature of the Torah: its commitment to gradual moral transformation.
For example, the Torah does not abolish slavery outright. Instead, it transforms it step by step:
These laws undermine the foundations of slavery. They shift it from a permanent condition to a temporary one. Over time, such laws pave the way for its eventual disappearance.
This is not revolution, but evolution. The Torah changes society through law, shaping habits and expectations across generations.
The same pattern appears in other areas:
Each law is rooted in memory. The Israelites’ past suffering becomes the foundation of their future justice.
Some of the Torah’s greatest achievements are not dramatic miracles, but quiet, legal changes that reshape society over time.
Consider the transformation of slavery. In the ancient world, slavery was universal and unquestioned. It was part of the natural order. The Torah does not abolish it immediately, but it introduces principles that slowly erode it:
These changes eventually alter the moral landscape. They teach society to see the slave as a human being, not as property. Over time, this leads to the idea that slavery itself is morally unacceptable.
This gradual approach reflects the Torah’s realism. Social change cannot always happen overnight. People must be educated, habits must shift, and institutions must evolve.
The Torah therefore works through law, shaping character and culture across generations.
History does not always move in straight lines. Moral progress is often slow, uneven, and fragile. Yet the Torah suggests that history has a direction.
Sometimes, that direction appears as what Rabbi Sacks calls a “Divine nudge.” Through laws, events, and moral teachings, Hashem gently pushes humanity toward greater justice and dignity.
The laws of Mishpatim are examples of this process. They do not create a perfect society overnight. Instead, they establish principles that gradually reshape human behavior:
These laws act as small moral nudges. Over time, they accumulate into great social transformations.
From Mishpatim emerges a powerful model of leadership. A leader must:
Without vision, people lose inspiration.
Without narrative, they lose identity.
Without law, they lose direction.
The Torah unites all three. It tells the story of slavery and liberation. It gives the vision of a holy nation. And it provides the laws that turn that vision into daily life.
This integration of story, vision, and law is what gives the Torah its enduring power. It transforms memory into morality and ideals into institutions.
One of the Torah’s most striking achievements is its quiet campaign against slavery.
In the ancient world, slavery was everywhere. It was accepted as part of the natural order. Yet the Torah introduces laws that slowly undermine it.
By limiting the duration of servitude, protecting the dignity of the slave, and mandating rest on Shabbos, the Torah changes the moral assumptions of society. It teaches that a slave is still a human being, created in the image of Hashem.
This process took thousands of years to unfold. But its roots lie in the laws of Mishpatim. The Torah planted the seeds of freedom long before the world was ready to harvest them.
The message is profound: moral change often begins with small legal reforms. Over time, those reforms reshape culture, expectations, and the moral imagination of a people.
Parshas Mishpatim shows that revelation is not an end in itself. The purpose of revelation is transformation—of individuals, communities, and societies.
The Israelites left Egypt with a memory of suffering and a vision of holiness. Mishpatim turns that memory and vision into a social order built on justice, compassion, and human dignity.
This is the Torah’s model of leadership and social change:
Through this process, the pain of the past becomes the blessing of the future. The experience of slavery becomes the foundation of freedom. The revelation at Sinai becomes a society of justice.
That is the Torah’s enduring lesson: true leadership transforms vision into detail, and memory into moral progress.
Across these teachings, a single theme emerges. The Torah does not seek perfection through abstract ideals alone, nor through emotion, nor through reason. Instead, it builds a moral society through covenant, memory, and law—through deeds that shape character and institutions that protect the vulnerable. It calls us to empathy for the stranger, responsibility toward the enemy, unity through action, and leadership that joins vision with detail. The message of Mishpatim, as Rabbi Sacks teaches, is that holiness is not found only in moments of revelation, but in the patient, daily work of justice, compassion, and moral courage. Through the laws of the covenant, the experience of slavery becomes the foundation of freedom, and the memory of suffering becomes the source of a society of dignity for all.
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Parshas Mishpatim takes the revelation of Sinai and brings it down into the practical structures of human society. Rav Kook reads these laws not merely as legal instructions, but as expressions of the inner moral and spiritual development of the individual and the nation. Through these teachings, the Torah reveals the soul of Israel, the purpose of law, and the redemptive direction of history itself.
The Torah commands: אַחֲרֵי רַבִּים לְהַטֹּת — “Follow the majority” (שמות כ״ג:ב׳). Rav Kook explains that halachic decision-making sometimes cannot be resolved through pure logic. When arguments are evenly balanced, the Torah provides a second path: consensus. Even if the majority is not objectively correct, unity has inherent value. A society cannot function amid constant dispute. Law requires a shared standard, and following the majority establishes a common path for the nation.
Rabbi Akiva’s decision to follow the majority opinion in a halachic dispute reflects this wisdom. True greatness lies not only in knowing when to lead, but also in knowing when to follow. Law becomes the instrument that binds individuals into a unified community.
The laws of slavery in Mishpatim are difficult for modern readers. Rav Kook explains that the Torah does not idealize slavery, but addresses it as a natural social condition that arises whenever there is inequality between rich and poor. The Torah’s laws are designed to correct the abuses that typically accompany such systems.
By defining the slave as the master’s property, the Torah creates a legal incentive for the master to care for the servant’s well-being. A master who harms his slave is punished severely, and one who kills a slave is treated as a murderer. The goal is not vengeance, but justice.
Historically, when the Torah’s influence weakened, slavery became a monstrous institution. Only in a future era, when the world is filled with compassion and spiritual sensitivity, will forms of servitude exist that provide both material security and moral guidance. The Torah’s laws therefore represent a stage in humanity’s moral education.
Mishpatim follows the revelation at Sinai with a detailed legal code. Rav Kook teaches that this transition shows that Torah is not only about lofty ideals. Its spirit must permeate every aspect of life.
The Torah describes the stone tablets given at Sinai. According to the Midrash, they were made of sapphire so strong that a hammer would shatter against them. This symbolizes the permanence of Torah law. One might think that only the Torah’s spirit is eternal, while its details should change with the times. The sapphire tablets teach the opposite: even the practical laws of daily life are unbreakable and eternal.
The Oral Law, though developed through generations of study, is not a human alteration of the Torah. It is the faithful application of the principles given at Sinai to changing circumstances. All its roots lie in that original revelation.
From the verse requiring an assailant to pay medical expenses, the Sages derived: “The Torah gave permission to the doctor to heal” (ברכות ס׳ א). Rav Kook asks why such permission is needed. Would healing not obviously be a noble act?
Human knowledge is limited. The body is a complex unity, and treatments may cause unforeseen harm. One might therefore conclude that it is better to rely solely on natural healing and Divine providence.
The Torah rejects this view. The world’s scientific and technological progress is itself part of Hashem’s plan. Just as a judge rules based on the evidence he sees, so must a doctor use the best knowledge available. Human initiative is not a rejection of faith, but an expression of it.
Rav Kook distinguishes between two levels of trust in Hashem:
Which level is appropriate depends on the spiritual state of the people. When faith is weak, miracles may be necessary to awaken recognition of Hashem. When faith is strong, it is better for people to use their own abilities, seeing Divine assistance within natural processes.
Just as a parent first feeds a child directly and later teaches him independence, so Hashem educates His people. Early in their history, miracles are needed. Later, they must act through their own efforts, recognizing Hashem as the source of their strength.
This principle also applies to redemption. It may come through miracles, or it may unfold gradually through natural events. The outcome depends on the nation’s spiritual readiness and trust in Hashem.
At Sinai, the people accepted the Torah twice. First they declared: נַעֲשֶׂה — “We will do.” Later they proclaimed: נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע — “We will do and we will understand” (שמות כ״ד:ג׳, ז׳).
Rav Kook explains that these correspond to the Oral and Written Torahs.
The Oral Torah is primarily practical. Its purpose is to teach how to live. Because it requires deep understanding and careful transmission, it was entrusted to the scholars who devote their lives to its study. Therefore, the people accepted it simply with “We will do.”
The Written Torah, by contrast, is accessible to all. Even without full understanding, its study has spiritual value. Thus, when accepting the Written Torah, the people added: “and we will understand.”
This sequence reflects a profound spiritual maturity. The people first committed themselves to obedience and practice, before seeking intellectual comprehension.
The Torah places unusually heavy liability on a borrower. Even if an item is lost through unavoidable accident, the borrower must pay for it.
Rav Kook on Parshas Mishpatim (…
At first glance, this seems unfair. Why should the borrower be responsible for events beyond his control?
Rav Kook explains that the purpose is to encourage kindness. The lender receives no benefit from the loan. To ensure that people remain willing to help one another, the Torah gives the lender extra protection. This prevents selfishness from closing the door to acts of generosity.
The borrower is exempt, however, if the owner was working for him at the time of the loan. In such cases, their relationship is already friendly and cooperative. There is no need for additional legal incentives to encourage kindness.
Thus, even technical financial laws serve a deeper moral goal: fostering a society built on chessed.
At Sinai, the people proclaimed: נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע — “We will do and we will listen” (שמות כ״ד:ז׳). The Midrash teaches that angels crowned them for this declaration.
Rav Kook explains that this response reflected an intuitive spiritual knowledge. Just as a bee instinctively builds perfect honeycombs, the Jewish people at Sinai discovered their own inner holiness. They recognized that the Torah was not foreign to them, but an expression of their true nature.
Their declaration was therefore not blind obedience. It was a revelation of their inner essence, free from the distortions of external influences.
The Torah states: עַיִן תַּחַת עַיִן — “eye for an eye” (שמות כ״א:כ״ד). The Sages interpret this as monetary compensation. Rav Kook explains that the literal wording still serves an educational purpose.
Through a parable, he compares the Written Torah to a father and the Oral Torah to a mother. The father initially seeks strict punishment, while the mother tempers it with compassion. The child ultimately receives a lighter sentence, but understands the seriousness of his offense.
Similarly, the Torah’s wording teaches the offender that his actions truly deserved the same injury he inflicted. Monetary compensation alone does not erase the moral gravity of the act. As Rambam writes, even after paying damages, the offender must seek forgiveness from the victim (הלכות חובל ומזיק ה:ט).
Thus, the Written and Oral Torah work together: one expressing the full moral weight of justice, the other guiding its compassionate application.
Across these teachings, Rav Kook reveals a unified vision. The laws of Mishpatim are not merely legal rules. They are instruments of spiritual growth—tools for shaping a compassionate society, refining the individual soul, and guiding humanity toward redemption.
Torah law unites the nation, protects the vulnerable, encourages kindness, and harmonizes human effort with trust in Hashem. Through both its written word and oral tradition, it reveals the inner essence of Israel and the divine direction of history.
In Mishpatim, the lofty light of Sinai enters the structures of daily life, transforming society from within and preparing the world for its ultimate redemption.
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Parshas Mishpatim is the Torah’s insistence that “spirituality” is not mainly what we feel in rare moments, but what we do in ordinary life. The same Sinai that gave thunder and fire also gave contracts, damages, wages, lending, courts, and the protection of the vulnerable—because holiness is meant to enter the marketplace, the group chat, the office, the home, and the streets. The first rung of the ladder is not ecstasy; it is integrity.
Rashi emphasizes that “וְאֵלֶּה” connects Mishpatim directly to Sinai: these civil laws are not “practical extras,” but Divine Torah given with the same authority as the Aseres HaDibros. When our financial and interpersonal conduct is governed by Torah seriousness, daily life becomes avodah.
In today’s world, it is easy to create a religious/non-religious split inside our own lives: Shacharis is “holy,” but billing, negotiating, managing employees, paying contractors, returning a text, or disputing a charge is “just business.” Mishpatim says: no. If Hashem is present at Sinai, He is present in the invoice, the refund, the contract clause, and the way we speak when we feel wronged.
Practical training for the week:
The laws of servitude (and the symbolism of the pierced ear) teach that even when a person is constrained by circumstance, Torah refuses to let dignity be erased. The ear that heard “כִּי לִי בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל עֲבָדִים” and still chooses human servitude becomes a moral mirror: What masters are we choosing—status, comfort, approval, money—when we already belong to Hashem?
In modern life, this shows up in workplaces and hierarchies: how we treat those with less power, how we speak to employees, how we pay, how we schedule, and whether we quietly take advantage because we can. Mishpatim pushes us to build systems where people don’t feel trapped, disposable, or unseen.
Practical training for the week:
Torah insists that conflicts be handled with seriousness and integrity, not through humiliation, mob pressure, or “who can be louder.” Even when one is convinced he is right, Mishpatim trains a person to submit conflict to a process rather than to ego. It is a society-building principle: justice must be close to sanctity.
In 2026, many disputes happen in public: screenshots, social posts, review platforms, and group chats. Mishpatim demands something countercultural: don’t turn conflict into entertainment; don’t recruit “a crowd” to punish the other side; don’t weaponize shame. Choose clarity, process, and restraint.
Practical training for the week:
Rabbi Sacks frames Mishpatim as a moral revolution: empathy is not a sentimental extra but the foundation of justice, especially toward the outsider. The Torah repeats “You know the heart of the stranger” because history is meant to become moral education.
Today, “the stranger” may be the immigrant, the convert, the kid who doesn’t fit in, the coworker from a different background, the neighbor with different politics, or the person who feels invisible in shul. Mishpatim says: don’t build your identity by creating a “them.” Learn to enter another person’s inner world, because empathy changes what force cannot.
Practical training for the week:
Rashi calls interest “נֶשֶׁךְ,” a bite—small at first, then swelling into great harm. Even financial structures that look “standard” can quietly become predatory.
He also stresses the compassion embedded in collateral: the poor person’s garment is returned as needed, mirroring Hashem’s daily kindness in returning the soul after sleep. Finance is never meant to crush dignity.
In modern terms, this speaks directly to:
Practical training for the week:
Shabbos is presented not as a private spiritual hobby, but as a social structure: “so the ox and donkey may rest; so the servant and stranger may be refreshed.” A Torah society restrains power for the sake of the vulnerable.
In a world of burnout, always-on phones, and identity built on output, Shabbos becomes a weekly protest: a human being is not a machine, and profit is not the highest good. It is also a weekly training in seeing other people—not as tools for our goals, but as souls who need menuchah.
Practical training for the week:
The Baal Shem Tov reads “אַל־תָּשֶׁת יָדְךָ עִם־רָשָׁע” as a warning about speech: if you speak negatively of another Jew, the yetzer hara will later “call you to testify” against him in the heavenly court. Words create spiritual testimony.
In our era, lashon hara scales instantly. A “small comment” becomes a thread. A complaint becomes a pile-on. Mishpatim trains us to protect justice by protecting language: criticize the harmful behavior if necessary, but don’t assault the person’s essence.
Practical training for the week:
Rabbi Sacks highlights a crucial distinction: unity exists at the level of deed (na’aseh), while diversity exists at the level of understanding (nishma). Action unites; thought allows different paths.
In a fractured world, this is a survival strategy for families, communities, and friendships: you do not need identical politics, identical personalities, or identical spiritual vocabulary to build a covenantal life together. You need shared commitments—acts of chesed, daily honesty, Shabbos rhythms, learning, and responsibility.
Practical training for the week:
Chassidus reads the “four damages” as inner states: the ox as harmful focus, the pit as emptiness and neglect of Torah, the tooth as uncontrolled consumption, and the fire as anger that burns within. Mishpatim is not only about courts; it is about inner repair.
Modern life intensifies all four:
Practical training for the week:
Rav Avigdor Miller’s synthesis is that Mishpatim is not a detour from holiness but the first rung of a ladder: from responsibility and integrity, to character, to commitment, to happiness and gratitude, to tikkun atzmi and closeness with Hashem.
This is the most practical ending possible: you do not wait to “feel spiritual” before becoming better. You become better—more honest, more careful, more empathetic, more restrained—and that itself creates inner elevation. Over time, the ordinary becomes luminous.
Practical training for the week:
Parshas Mishpatim marks a decisive transition from revelation to responsibility. Following the thunder and fire of Sinai, the Torah turns to the lived expression of covenant—law governing daily life, human dignity, justice, compassion, and accountability. Rashi opens this parsha by emphasizing that these civil laws are not ancillary or merely pragmatic; they were given at Sinai with the same Divine authority as the Aseres HaDibros. Through meticulous analysis, legal nuance, and Midrashic depth, Rashi reveals how Torah law shapes not only external conduct but inner moral awareness, weaving Divine will into commerce, courts, family life, and communal ethics. Mishpatim thus becomes the framework through which holiness enters ordinary human interaction.
Rashi explains the significance of the word ואלה. Wherever the Torah says אלה (“these”), it severs what follows from what came before; however, ואלה (“and these”) adds to and continues the previous subject. Here, ואלה teaches that just as the Aseres HaDibros were given at Sinai, so too these civil laws were given at Sinai (מכילתא; שמות רבה ל:ג; תנחומא משפטים ג).
Rashi then asks why the section of judicial laws is placed immediately after the commandment concerning the mizbeach. He explains that this teaches that the Sanhedrin should be placed near the Mikdash, emphasizing that justice must operate in proximity to Divine service and sanctity (מכילתא).
אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם
Rashi explains that Hashem instructs Moshe not merely to teach the laws by rote repetition, but to present them with their reasoning and clarity. The phrase “אשר תשים לפניהם” teaches that Torah law must be set before the people like a fully prepared table, ready to be understood and internalized, not merely memorized (מכילתא).
לִפְנֵיהֶם
Rashi emphasizes that Torah law must be brought before Jewish courts and not before non-Jewish courts. Even if non-Jewish judges would rule identically, one may not litigate before them. Doing so desecrates Hashem’s Name and grants honor to foreign systems of authority, as implied by the verse “כי לא כצורנו צורם ואויבינו פלילים” (דברים ל״ב). When enemies judge us, it testifies to the elevation of what they revere (תנחומא משפטים ג).
Rashi clarifies that “עבד עברי” means a servant who himself is a Hebrew, not a Canaanite servant owned by a Hebrew. He rejects the possibility that the six-year term applies to a Canaanite servant purchased from a Jew, proving instead from “כי ימכר לך אחיך העברי” (דברים ט״ו) that the law applies specifically to one’s fellow Jew (מכילתא).
Rashi further explains that “כי תקנה” refers to a Hebrew servant sold by Beis Din due to theft, as stated “אם אין לו ונמכר בגנבתו” (שמות כ״ב). Although the Torah also discusses one who sells himself due to poverty (ויקרא כ״ה), this verse must refer to the case of judicial sale, since the self-seller is already addressed elsewhere (מכילתא).
לַחָפְשִׁי
Rashi explains that “לחפשי” means into freedom, with the extra י serving as a grammatical form rather than changing the meaning.
Rashi explains that this means the servant entered servitude unmarried, as rendered by the Targum “בלחודוהי.” The term בגפו refers to entering alone, wrapped only in his garment, without a family.
בְּגַפּוֹ יֵצֵא
From this, Rashi derives that if the servant entered unmarried, the master may not give him a Canaanite maidservant to produce slaves (קידושין כ׳).
אִם בַּעַל אִשָּׁה הוּא
Rashi specifies that this refers to an Israelite wife (מכילתא).
וְיָצְאָה אִשְׁתּוֹ עִמּוֹ
Rashi explains that although the wife did not enter servitude, the Torah teaches that the master must provide sustenance for the servant’s wife and children during his term of service (מכילתא; קידושין כ״ב).
Rashi teaches that the master may give the servant a Canaanite maidservant in order to produce slaves. This cannot refer to a Hebrew woman, since a Hebrew maidservant goes free after six years or even earlier upon reaching signs of maturity, as derived from “אחיך העברי או העבריה” (דברים ט״ו). Therefore, the verse must be referring specifically to a Canaanite woman (מכילתא; קידושין י״ד).
Rashi clarifies that this refers to the Canaanite maidservant given by the master.
Rashi explains that “אל האלקים” means to Beis Din. The servant must consult the court that originally sold him, since they were responsible for his sale (מכילתא).
אֶל הַדֶּלֶת אוֹ אֶל הַמְּזוּזָה
Rashi explains that although the verse mentions the doorpost, the actual piercing must be done into the door itself, as derived from “ונתתה באזנו ובדלת” (דברים ט״ו). The comparison teaches that just as the mezuzah is upright, so too the door must be upright and attached during the piercing (מכילתא; קידושין כ״ב).
וְרָצַע אֲדֹנָיו אֶת אָזְנוֹ
Rashi explains that the right ear is pierced, derived by a gezeirah shavah from the purification of the metzora, where the right ear is specified (ויקרא י״ד).
Rashi then brings Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai’s teaching: the ear that heard at Sinai “לא תגנוב” and yet stole deserves piercing; alternatively, the ear that heard “כי לי בני ישראל עבדים” (ויקרא כ״ה) and nevertheless chose another master deserves piercing (מכילתא; קידושין כ״ב).
Rabbi Shimon adds that the door and mezuzah were witnesses in Egypt when Hashem proclaimed Israel as His servants alone. Therefore, they now stand witness as this person voluntarily chooses continued servitude (קידושין כ״ב).
וַעֲבָדוֹ לְעֹלָם
Rashi explains that “לעולם” does not mean forever literally, but until Yovel. Fifty years are called “olam,” as derived from “ואיש אל משפחתו תשובו” (ויקרא כ״ה). The servant serves until the Jubilee, whether it is near or far (קידושין ט״ו; מכילתא).
Rashi explains that the verse speaks specifically of a minor girl. One might think that a father could sell his daughter even after she has shown signs of na’arus, but Rashi rejects this through a kal va’chomer. If a girl who was already sold goes free upon showing signs of na’arus, as derived from “וְיָצְאָה חִנָּם אֵין כָּסֶף,” then certainly a girl who has not yet been sold cannot be sold once she has reached that stage. This establishes that the sale applies only to a ketanah (ערכין כ״ט).
לֹא תֵצֵא כְּצֵאת הָעֲבָדִים
Rashi clarifies that this does not mean she lacks the standard release mechanisms of Hebrew servants. Rather, it excludes the special release of Canaanite servants, who go free if the master causes the loss of a tooth or an eye. An amah ivriyah does not go free through such injury; instead, she goes free after six years, at the Yovel, or upon showing signs of na’arus—whichever comes first. The master must still pay compensation for the injury.
Rashi considers an alternative reading—that she does not go free like Hebrew servants at six years or Yovel—but rejects it based on the verse “כִּי יִמָּכֵר לְךָ אָחִיךָ הָעִבְרִי אוֹ הָעִבְרִיָּה” (דברים ט״ו), which equates the Hebrew woman to the Hebrew man regarding exits. The phrase therefore excludes only release via loss of limbs. Rashi adds that this comparison also teaches that a Hebrew man does not go free through loss of limbs either (מכילתא; קידושין כ׳).
Rashi explains that this means she did not find favor in his eyes such that he wished to marry her.
אֲשֶׁר לֹא יְעָדָהּ
Rashi teaches that the master was obligated to designate her as a wife, with the original purchase money serving as kiddushin. The Torah hints that yi’ud is a mitzvah and that no additional act of kiddushin is required (קידושין י״ח).
וְהֶפְדָּהּ
Rashi explains that the master must assist in her redemption by reducing the redemption price proportionally to the years she has already worked, treating her labor like hired service. If she was purchased for a maneh and served two years, the master deducts that portion and allows her to redeem herself for the remainder (קידושין י״ד).
לְעַם נָכְרִי לֹא יִמְשֹׁל לְמָכְרָהּ
Rashi explains that neither the master nor the father may sell her to another person, as she may not be transferred onward (קידושין י״ח).
בְּבִגְדוֹ בָהּ
Rashi explains that this refers to betrayal—either by the master, if he refuses to fulfill the mitzvah of yi’ud, or by the father, who already betrayed her by selling her and therefore may not sell her again (מכילתא; קידושין י״ח).
Rashi explains that “he” refers to the master. The verse teaches that the son may also designate her as a wife, with the father’s consent, and no new kiddushin is required. The son merely declares that the original purchase money serves as kiddushin (קידושין י״ט).
כְּמִשְׁפַּט הַבָּנוֹת
Rashi explains that this means she is entitled to the standard marital obligations: sustenance, clothing, and marital relations (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this refers to taking another wife in addition to her.
שְׁאֵרָהּ כְּסוּתָהּ וְעֹנָתָהּ לֹא יִגְרָע
Rashi explains that these obligations may not be diminished for the amah who was designated as a wife.
שְׁאֵרָהּ refers to food, כְּסוּתָהּ refers to clothing, and עֹנָתָהּ refers to marital relations (כתובות מ״ז).
Rashi explains that these three obligations are: designation to himself, designation to his son, or reduction of the redemption price to allow her to go free. If he fulfills none of these, and she lacks the means to redeem herself, she must be released without payment (מכילתא).
וְיָצְאָה חִנָּם
Rashi explains that the Torah adds an additional avenue of release for her beyond those of male servants. She goes free upon showing signs of na’arus, even before six years. If six years arrive first, she goes free then, as already established from דברים ט״ו. The phrase “ויצאה חנם” teaches release through na’arus, while “אין כסף” adds release at the stage of bagrus. Both expressions are needed to remove any ambiguity and prevent dispute (מכילתא; קידושין ד׳).
Rashi opens by noting that the Torah contains multiple verses dealing with murder, and he undertakes to explain why each formulation is necessary.
Rashi explains that this verse teaches liability only when the blow results in death. From the verse “וְאִישׁ כִּי יַכֶּה כָּל נֶפֶשׁ אָדָם” (ויקרא כ״ד), one might have inferred that even a non-fatal blow incurs the death penalty; therefore the Torah specifies “מכה איש ומת,” teaching that death liability applies only when the blow is lethal.
Conversely, had the Torah stated only “מכה איש ומת,” one might have thought that liability applies only when a man is killed, excluding a woman or a minor. Therefore the Torah says “כי יכה כל נפש אדם,” which includes women and minors.
Rashi further explains that had the Torah only said “מכה איש,” one might have included even a minor who kills; therefore it says “ואיש כי יכה,” excluding a minor killer.
Finally, Rashi notes that “כל נפש אדם” could have included non-viable premature infants; therefore the Torah specifies “מכה איש,” teaching that liability applies only when one kills a viable human being, one fit to become an “ish” (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this refers to one who did not lie in ambush and did not intend the killing.
Rashi analyzes the word “צדה,” explaining that it means lying in wait, as in “ואתה צֹדֶה את נפשי” (שמואל א כ״ד). He rejects the interpretation that connects it to hunting game (“הצד ציד”), noting grammatical differences between the roots and their forms. He also rejects Menachem ben Saruk’s classification and explains that even if the word is connected to the root “צד,” meaning “side” or “turning,” it still conveys the idea of deliberate plotting or ambush. In all cases, the operative meaning is lack of premeditation.
וְהָאֱלֹקִים אִנָּה לְיָדוֹ
Rashi explains that this means Hashem caused the event to come about, preparing it for his hand, using the same sense as in “לֹא תְאֻנֶּה אֵלֶיךָ רָעָה” (תהילים צ״א) and “לֹא יְאֻנֶּה לַצַּדִּיק כָּל אָוֶן” (משלי י״ב).
Rashi then presents a foundational Midrash. David says, “כַּאֲשֶׁר יֹאמַר מְשַׁל הַקַּדְמֹנִי מֵרְשָׁעִים יֵצֵא רֶשַׁע” (שמואל א כ״ד). Rashi explains that “the proverb of the קדמוני” refers to the Torah itself. Where does the Torah express this principle? In the verse “והאלקים אנה לידו.”
Rashi explains that the verse speaks of two men: one who killed intentionally and one who killed unintentionally, but neither had witnesses, so neither received proper justice. Hashem arranges that they meet at the same inn. The intentional murderer sits beneath a ladder; the unintentional killer climbs the ladder, falls, and kills the intentional murderer. Witnesses now testify, obligating the unintentional killer to exile and the intentional killer to death. Thus Divine justice is ultimately carried out (מכילתא; מכות י׳).
וְשַׂמְתִּי לְךָ מָקוֹם
Rashi explains that even in the wilderness Hashem provided a place of refuge. That place was the camp of the Leviyim, which served as asylum before formal cities of refuge were established (מכילתא; מכות י״ב).
Rashi explains why this verse is necessary. From “מכה איש ומת” one might have included many cases: killing a non-Jew, a physician whose treatment caused death, a court agent administering lashes, a father disciplining his son, a teacher disciplining a student, or even a case of error. Therefore the Torah specifies “וכי יזיד” — excluding accidental killing; “על רעהו” — excluding killing a non-Jew; “להרגו בערמה” — excluding the physician, court agent, father, and teacher, who do not act with guile even if intentional (מכילתא).
מֵעִם מִזְבְּחִי תִּקָּחֶנּוּ לָמוּת
Rashi explains that even if the murderer is a Kohen standing at the altar ready to perform service, he must be taken from the altar and executed (יומא פ״ה).
Rashi explains that since one who injures another person is generally liable only for monetary compensation, the Torah must explicitly teach that striking one’s father or mother incurs the death penalty. This applies only when the blow causes an actual wound (חבורה) (סנהדרין פ״ה).
אָבִיו וְאִמּוֹ
Rashi clarifies that this means either the father or the mother (מכילתא).
מוֹת יוּמָת
Rashi explains that the mode of execution is strangulation (מכילתא).
Rashi explains why this formulation is necessary. From the verse “כִּי יִמָּצֵא אִישׁ גֹּנֵב נֶפֶשׁ מֵאֶחָיו” (דברים כ״ד), one might think that only a man who kidnaps a person is liable to death. The verse here therefore teaches that liability applies regardless of the kidnapper’s gender or physical status, including a woman, a tumtum, or an androginos.
Conversely, since this verse says “וגונב איש,” one might think that liability applies only if the victim is male. The Torah therefore also says “גונב נפש,” which includes a female victim. Both verses are needed, as each supplies what the other omits (מכילתא; סנהדרין פ״ה).
וְנִמְצָא בְיָדוֹ
Rashi explains that witnesses must have seen him both steal and sell the person, and that the victim must have been found in his possession before the sale (מכילתא).
מוֹת יוּמָת
Rashi explains that the mode of execution is strangulation, since any unspecified death penalty in the Torah refers to strangulation. Rashi adds an explanatory note: the Torah inserts the law of kidnapping between the verses about striking one’s parents and cursing one’s parents. This interruption underlies a dispute in Sanhedrin regarding whether striking and cursing parents are to be fully equated, particularly concerning liability after the parents’ death (סנהדרין פ״ה).
Rashi explains why this formulation is needed. From “אִישׁ אִישׁ אֲשֶׁר יְקַלֵּל אֶת אָבִיו” (ויקרא כ׳), one might think only a man is liable. This verse teaches that the prohibition applies to both men and women. The word “איש” in the other verse serves to exclude a minor (מכילתא).
מוֹת יוּמָת
Rashi explains that execution here is by stoning. Wherever the Torah states “דָּמָיו בּוֹ,” the mode is stoning, as derived from the general rule established in ויקרא כ׳ (מכילתא; סנהדרין ס״ו).
Rashi explains that this passage is needed because from “עַיִן תַּחַת עַיִן” alone one would learn only compensation for bodily damage, but not compensation for loss of time or medical expenses. Therefore this section teaches those additional liabilities (מכילתא).
וְנָפַל לְמִשְׁכָּב
Rashi explains that this means the injured party falls into illness that incapacitates him from work, as rendered by the Targum.
Rashi explains that this means the injured person regains his former strength and health (מכילתא).
וְנִקָּה הַמַּכֶּה
Rashi explains that the assailant is detained until it becomes clear whether the injured person will recover. Only when the injured party rises and walks about in health is the assailant released. Until then, he is not absolved (כתובות ל״ג; סנהדרין ע״ח).
רַק שִׁבְתּוֹ
Rashi explains that this refers to payment for loss of labor due to illness. If a limb was severed, loss-of-time compensation is calculated as though the injured party were fit only for minimal labor, such as guarding cucumbers, since the assailant already paid for the permanent loss of the limb as damages (בבא קמא פ״ה).
וְרַפֹּא יְרַפֵּא
Rashi explains that this means the assailant must pay the physician’s fee.
Rashi explains that the verse refers to a Canaanite servant, as indicated by “כִּי כַסְפּוֹ הוּא,” meaning one owned permanently. Although killing a servant would seemingly fall under the general rule of murder, the Torah singles it out to apply the special rule of “a day or two,” exempting the master from capital punishment if the servant survives at least twenty-four hours (מכילתא).
בַּשֵּׁבֶט
Rashi explains that the rod must be one capable of causing death. By kal va’chomer from the case of killing an Israelite, liability applies only when the instrument and the blow are capable of causing death (מכילתא).
נָקֹם יִנָּקֵם
Rashi explains that this refers to execution by the sword, as derived from “חֶרֶב נֹקֶמֶת” (ויקרא כ״ו) (מכילתא; סנהדרין נ״ב).
Rashi explains that “a day or two” means a full twenty-four-hour period. The Torah uses both terms to define “day” as a period spanning parts of two calendar days (מכילתא).
לֹא יֻקָּם כִּי כַסְפּוֹ הוּא
Rashi explains that this exemption applies only to the master. If another person struck the servant and the servant survived twenty-four hours before dying, that person would still be liable to death.
Rashi explains that the verse speaks of two men who are fighting with one another, where one intended to strike his fellow but inadvertently struck a pregnant woman instead (סנהדרין ע״ט).
וְנָגְפוּ
Rashi explains that נגיפה always denotes striking or pushing forcefully. He brings multiple Scriptural parallels, such as “פֶּן תִּגֹּף בָּאֶבֶן רַגְלֶךָ” (תהילים צ״א) and “וּלְאֶבֶן נֶגֶף” (ישעיהו ח׳), establishing that the injury resulted from a forceful blow.
וְלֹא יִהְיֶה אָסוֹן
Rashi explains that this means no fatal harm occurred to the woman herself, even though the pregnancy was terminated (סנהדרין ע״ט).
עָנוֹשׁ יֵעָנֵשׁ
Rashi explains that the offender must pay monetary compensation for the loss of the fetuses. The valuation is calculated by assessing how much the woman’s market value would have increased due to her pregnancy if she were sold as a slave (בבא קמא מ״ט).
Rashi further explains that the word עָנוֹשׁ denotes monetary punishment, as in “וְעָנְשׁוּ אֹתוֹ מֵאָה כֶסֶף” (דברים כ״ב).
כַּאֲשֶׁר יָשִׁית עָלָיו
Rashi explains that this refers to the husband bringing the case before Beis Din, who impose the fine upon the assailant.
וְנָתַן
Rashi clarifies that the assailant is the one who must pay the value of the offspring.
בִּפְלִלִים
Rashi explains that this means according to the ruling of the judges (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this refers to fatal harm to the woman herself.
וְנָתַתָּה נֶפֶשׁ תַּחַת נָפֶשׁ
Rashi notes that the Sages dispute the meaning of this phrase. Some understand it literally as life for life, while others understand it as monetary compensation rather than capital punishment. Rashi explains that the latter view holds that since the assailant intended to strike someone else and unintentionally caused death, he is exempt from the death penalty and must instead pay compensation to the heirs, assessed by the victim’s market value (סנהדרין ע״ט).
Rashi explains unequivocally that this refers to monetary compensation, not physical retaliation. If one blinds another’s eye, he pays the monetary value corresponding to the loss, measured by the reduction in the injured person’s market value. The same principle applies to all other bodily injuries, as established by Chazal in Bava Kamma (פ״ג).
Rashi explains that כוויה refers to a burn caused by fire. Up to this point, the Torah addressed injuries that cause a decrease in market value; here it addresses cases involving pain alone, without loss of value. For example, burning a person’s fingernails with a hot skewer. Compensation is assessed by how much a person would be willing to accept in exchange for enduring such pain (בבא קמא פ״ג).
פֶּצַע
Rashi explains that this is an injury that causes blood to flow. Depending on the outcome, multiple payments may apply: damages for loss of value, compensation for lost time, medical expenses, embarrassment, and pain.
Rashi explains that this verse appears redundant, but Chazal derive from it that payment for pain is required even when payment for bodily damage has already been made. One cannot argue that having paid the limb’s value grants license to inflict additional pain; the Torah requires compensation for unnecessary suffering (בבא קמא פ״ה).
חַבּוּרָה
Rashi explains that this is a wound where blood congeals beneath the skin without emerging, causing redness. He traces the word to expressions meaning “beating” or “striking,” including its usage for discoloration and impact elsewhere in Tanach.
Rashi explains that this verse refers specifically to a Canaanite servant. A Hebrew servant does not go free due to injury to an eye or tooth, as previously explained.
תַּחַת עֵינוֹ
Rashi explains that this law applies not only to the eye but to twenty-four primary limbs, including fingers, toes, ears, the nose, and the reproductive organ.
Rashi explains why both eye and tooth are mentioned. If only the eye were mentioned, one might think the law applies only to limbs present from birth, excluding teeth. If only the tooth were mentioned, one might think even a child’s tooth that will regrow qualifies. Mentioning both teaches that the law applies only to permanent limbs of an adult servant (קידושין כ״ד).
Rashi explains that although the Torah speaks of an ox, the law applies equally to all animals, wild or domestic, and even birds. The Torah mentions an ox because it is the most common case (בבא קמא נ״ד).
וְלֹא יֵאָכֵל אֶת בְּשָׂרוֹ
Rashi explains that although the ox is already forbidden as carrion once sentenced to stoning, the Torah adds this phrase to teach that even if it were properly slaughtered after sentencing, it remains forbidden for consumption.
Rashi further explains that the phrase “וּבַעַל הַשּׁוֹר נָקִי” teaches that no benefit whatsoever may be derived from the ox. Halachically, the owner is “clean” of any residual ownership or benefit (בבא קמא מ״א).
Rashi adds that according to the plain meaning, the verse emphasizes that unlike the case of a habitual goring ox (מועד), whose owner may be liable to death, the owner of a first-time goring ox (תם) is exempt from personal liability.
מִתְּמוֹל שִׁלְשֹׁם
Rashi explains that the phrase “from yesterday and the day before” establishes the requirement of three goring incidents (including the present one) for an ox to be classified as a מוּעָד (habitually dangerous) (מכילתא; בבא קמא כ״ג).
וְהוּעַד בִּבְעָלָיו
Rashi explains that this refers to a formal warning delivered to the owner in the presence of witnesses, as in the expression “הָעֵד הֵעִד בָּנוּ הָאִישׁ” (בראשית מ״ג) (בבא קמא כ״ד).
וְהֵמִית אִישׁ אוֹ אִשָּׁה
Rashi explains that although the Torah initially uses the term יגח, which connotes goring with horns, this verse broadens liability to any manner by which the animal causes death—biting, pushing, or kicking—since the verse states generally “והמית” (מכילתא).
וְגַם בְּעָלָיו יוּמָת
Rashi explains that this refers to death at the hands of Heaven, not execution by Beis Din. The Torah distinguishes between death caused directly by a person, which warrants human judicial execution, and death caused by one’s ox, which incurs Divine punishment (סנהדרין ט״ו).
Rashi explains that the word “אם” here is not conditional but functions as “when,” similar to “אם כֶּסֶף תַּלְוֶה.” The law is that Beis Din imposes a ransom (כֹּפֶר) upon the owner.
וְנָתַן פִּדְיוֹן נַפְשׁוֹ
Rashi records a dispute between Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Yishmael understands the ransom as the value of the victim, while Rabbi Akiva understands it as the value of the ox owner himself (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this refers to a minor son.
אוֹ בַת יִגָּח
Rashi explains that this refers to a minor daughter. Since the Torah earlier mentions only a man or woman, one might think liability applies only to adults. This verse teaches that liability applies equally to minors (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this refers specifically to Canaanite servants.
שְׁלֹשִׁים שְׁקָלִים יִתֵּן
Rashi explains that this is a fixed Torah decree, regardless of the servant’s actual market value. The amount is always thirty shekels, whether the servant was worth far more or far less. Rashi adds a note explaining the standard weight of a shekel (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this refers to uncovering an already existing pit that had previously been covered.
אוֹ כִּי יִכְרֶה
Rashi explains that this phrase includes the case of one who deepens a pit after another had already begun digging it. The one who completes the pit to a dangerous depth becomes liable (בבא קמא נ״א).
וְלֹא יְכַסֶּנּוּ
Rashi explains that if he did cover it, he is exempt from liability. The Torah speaks of a pit dug in the public domain (בבא קמא נ׳).
שׁוֹר אוֹ חֲמוֹר
Rashi explains that the law applies to all animals. The Torah mentions ox and donkey to exclude humans and inanimate objects from this liability (בבא קמא נ״ג).
Rashi explains that this means the one who created the hazard. Even though the pit is not his property, the Torah assigns him responsibility as its “owner” because he caused the damage.
כֶּסֶף יָשִׁיב לִבְעָלָיו
Rashi explains that the word “ישיב” teaches that restitution may be made with any item of monetary value, even bran, and not necessarily with currency (בבא קמא ז׳).
וְהַמֵּת יִהְיֶה לוֹ
Rashi explains that the carcass belongs to the injured party. Its value is assessed and credited toward the compensation, with the damager paying the remainder necessary to cover the full loss (בבא קמא י׳).
Rashi explains that יגף means to strike or thrust. The damage may occur through goring with horns, pushing with the body, kicking with the foot, or biting with the teeth. All such actions are included in the term נגיפה, which denotes any forceful blow (מכילתא).
שׁוֹר אִישׁ
Rashi clarifies that this means the ox belonging to a man—the word שור is in the construct form with איש.
וּמָכְרוּ אֶת הַשּׁוֹר הַחַי
Rashi explains that the Torah speaks of a case where both oxen were of equal value while alive. Each party then takes half of the living ox and half of the carcass, resulting in each bearing half of the loss caused by the death.
From this, Rashi derives the foundational rule that a תם (an ox that gored for the first time) pays half damages—no more and no less. From cases of equal value, we learn how to assess cases of unequal value: the carcass is valued, and the injured party receives half the depreciation.
Rashi explains why the Torah phrases the law as division rather than simply stating “he pays half.” This teaches that a תם pays only from its own body. If the goring ox dies, the injured party receives only the carcass, even if it does not cover half the damage. Likewise, the owner of a תם is never required to pay from his personal assets (בבא קמא ל״ג).
Rashi explains that this refers to an ox that was already known to be dangerous—having gored three times—thus classifying it as a מוּעָד.
שָׁלֵם יְשַׁלֵּם שׁוֹר
Rashi explains that the owner of a מוּעָד must pay full damages.
וְהַמֵּת יִהְיֶה לוֹ
The carcass belongs to the injured party and is included as part of the compensation. The damager must complete the payment until the claimant is fully compensated for the loss (בבא קמא כ״ג).
חֲמִשָּׁה בָקָר יְשַׁלֵּם
Rashi cites Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, who teaches that Hashem shows compassion for human dignity. Since an ox can walk on its own, the thief does not degrade himself by carrying it and therefore pays fivefold. A sheep, which must be carried, causes the thief humiliation, so the Torah reduces the payment to fourfold.
Rabbi Meir adds that this also reflects the Torah’s valuation of labor: stealing an ox deprives the owner of productive work and thus incurs greater restitution, while stealing a sheep does not (מכילתא; בבא קמא ע״ט).
תַּחַת הַשּׁוֹר … תַּחַת הַשֶּׂה
Rashi explains that the Torah repeats these terms to teach that the laws of fourfold and fivefold restitution apply only to an ox and a sheep, and not to other animals (בבא קמא ס״ז).
Chapter 21 establishes the Torah’s legal vision for human dignity, bodily integrity, and responsibility for harm. Rashi guides us through laws governing Hebrew servitude, revealing that even when economic failure leads to servitude, the Torah preserves freedom, family dignity, and moral accountability. The chapter then turns to criminal and civil liability—murder, assault, injury, negligence, and damages—where Rashi carefully distinguishes intent from accident, monetary compensation from capital punishment, and human justice from Divine judgment. Through these laws, Rashi shows that justice in the Torah is precise, proportionate, and deeply concerned with both the victim’s loss and the moral standing of the perpetrator. Human life, bodily wholeness, and accountability form the ethical backbone of this chapter.
Rashi explains that this refers to a thief caught while breaking into the house, in the very act of tunneling through.
אֵין לוֹ דָּמִים
Rashi explains that killing such a burglar is not considered murder. The thief is regarded as if he were already dead, because the Torah presumes that a person who breaks in knows the homeowner will resist, and therefore enters with intent to kill if necessary. From here the Torah teaches the principle: If someone comes to kill you, rise early and kill him first (סנהדרין ע״ב).
Rashi explains that this is a metaphor. Just as the sun brings peace to the world, so too this phrase means that it is clear and evident that the thief does not intend to kill. An example is a father breaking in to steal from his son, where it is certain that he would not kill his child even if confronted.
דָּמִים לוֹ
In such a case, the thief is considered fully alive, and killing him would constitute murder.
שָׁלֵם יְשַׁלֵּם
Rashi explains that in this scenario, the thief is liable only for monetary restitution and not subject to the death penalty.
Rashi then cites Onkelos, who explains the verse differently: if witnesses have already seen the thief and warned him not to kill, then it is evident that he does not come with murderous intent, and killing him would be forbidden. Since he knows he is observed, he will not kill the homeowner.
Rashi explains that this means the stolen object is found in the thief’s possession, and that he neither slaughtered nor sold it.
מִשּׁוֹר עַד חֲמוֹר
Rashi explains that the obligation of double payment (כפל) applies to all stolen property, whether animate or inanimate. This is derived from a later verse that includes clothing and all lost objects.
חַיִּים שְׁנַיִם יְשַׁלֵּם
Rashi explains that the thief must pay with living animals or their monetary equivalent, not with dead animals.
Rashi explains that all the terms in this verse relate to damage caused by animals.
He explains that the verse addresses a case where a person allows his animals to damage another’s field or vineyard in one of two ways:
• וְשִׁלַּח — damage caused by trampling (רגל)
• וּבִעֵר — damage caused by eating (שֵׁן), where the animal consumes and destroys produce
בִּשְׂדֵה אַחֵר
Rashi clarifies that this means the field of another person, not simply another field.
מֵיטַב שָׂדֵהוּ … יְשַׁלֵּם
Rashi explains that damages are assessed, and if the payment is made with land, it must come from the best quality land of the damager. From here the Torah teaches that damages are collected from superior property (עִדִּית).
Rashi explains that liability applies even if the fire spreads on its own.
וּמָצְאָה קוֹצִים
Rashi identifies קוצים as thorns, which allow the fire to spread.
וְנֶאֱכַל גָּדִישׁ
The fire consumes stacks of grain or standing crops after spreading through the thorns.
אוֹ הַשָּׂדֶה
Rashi explains that this includes damage to plowed land, which becomes hardened by fire and must be plowed again.
שָׁלֵם יְשַׁלֵּם הַמַּבְעִיר
Even though the fire was lit on one’s own property, the one who kindled it is liable if it spreads and causes damage, because he failed to guard it properly.
Rashi explains that this refers to a case where a bailee claims that an entrusted item was stolen from his house.
אִם יִמָּצֵא הַגַּנָּב
If the thief is found, the thief pays double to the owner of the item, not to the bailee.
Rashi explains that in this case, the bailee—who currently possesses the item—must come before the judges.
וְנִקְרַב אֶל הָאֱלֹהִים
Rashi explains that this means approaching the judges to take an oath, swearing that he did not misappropriate the item himself.
Rashi explains that this refers to a case where the bailee is exposed as a liar—witnesses testify that he himself stole the item.
יְשַׁלֵּם שְׁנַיִם לְרֵעֵהוּ
The Torah teaches that if a bailee falsely claims theft, swears an oath, and is later exposed by witnesses, he must pay double to the owner. This applies only when the oath preceded the testimony.
Rashi explains that the phrase “ונקרב בעל הבית אל האלקים” indicates that the liability of double payment arises through an oath, not merely through denial.
אֲשֶׁר יֹאמַר כִּי הוּא זֶה
Rashi gives two explanations.
According to the plain meaning, witnesses testify that the very item sworn about is in the bailee’s possession. The judges investigate, and if the bailee is found guilty, he pays double; if the witnesses are found to be false, they pay double instead.
Chazal, however, derive from כי הוא זה that an oath is imposed only when the defendant admits partial liability—acknowledging part of the claim and denying the rest.
Rashi explains that the earlier section (22:6–8) deals with a shomer chinam (unpaid bailee), who is exempt from liability for theft by means of an oath.
This section, however, addresses a shomer sachar (paid bailee). Since he receives compensation, he is liable for theft, as stated later: “if it is surely stolen from him, he shall pay.”
Nevertheless, for unavoidable accidents—such as natural death, injury, or forcible seizure by armed robbers—where no witnesses are present, he may exempt himself through an oath.
Rashi explains that the bailee must swear that the loss occurred as described and that he did not misappropriate the item beforehand. If he had used it for his own purposes and only afterward it was lost through accident, he would be liable even for אונס (unavoidable loss).
וְלָקַח בְּעָלָיו
The owner accepts the oath.
וְלֹא יְשַׁלֵּם
The bailee pays nothing—not even the principal value.
Rashi explains that this refers to an animal torn by a wild beast.
יְבִיאֵהוּ עֵד
The bailee must bring witnesses that the animal was torn in circumstances beyond his control.
הַטְּרֵפָה לֹא יְשַׁלֵּם
Rashi clarifies that there are cases of tearing for which the bailee is liable and others for which he is not.
If the animal was torn by smaller predators (such as a cat, fox, or marten), he is liable, because he could have prevented it.
If it was torn by powerful beasts (such as a wolf, lion, bear, or snake), he is exempt, since these constitute true אונס. This distinction is derived by analogy to death, injury, and captivity—events beyond human control.
Rashi explains that this verse introduces the law of a borrower (שׁוֹאֵל), who is liable even for unavoidable accidents.
בְּעָלָיו אֵין עִמּוֹ
If the owner of the animal is not working together with the borrower at the time of the loan, the borrower bears full responsibility.
Rashi explains that if the owner was employed with the borrower at the time of borrowing, the borrower is exempt from liability—even if the owner was not present when the animal was injured or died.
אִם שָׂכִיר הוּא
If the animal was hired rather than borrowed, it does not fall under the strict liability of a borrower. Since the hirer pays for its use and does not enjoy full benefit, he is not liable for accidents like a borrower.
However, the Torah does not specify whether a hirer’s liability is like that of a shomer chinam or a shomer sachar. Therefore, the Sages dispute this point:
Rashi explains that this refers to persuasion—speaking to the young woman until she consents. The Aramaic translation renders this as שידול, persuasion.
מָהֹר יִמְהָרֶנָּה
The man must assign her a marriage portion, as is customary, by writing a ketubah and marrying her.
Rashi explains that the standard mohar of a virgin is fifty shekels, as established in the Torah regarding one who violates a virgin by force (Devarim 22).
Rashi explains that witches are executed by the court. The law applies equally to men and women, but Scripture speaks in the feminine because women more commonly practiced witchcraft (Sanhedrin 67a).
Rashi explains that both men and women who engage in bestiality are executed by stoning, as derived from the phrase “their blood is upon them” in Vayikra 20.
Rashi explains that לָאֱלֹהִים refers specifically to idols. The grammatical form indicates false gods and not Hashem.
יַחֳרָם
Rashi explains that this means execution by Beis Din. The verse specifies “one who sacrifices” to teach that the death penalty applies only to forms of idolatrous worship analogous to sacrificial service in the Temple—such as slaughtering, burning incense, or pouring libations—whether or not that is the usual form of worship for that idol.
Other acts of reverence, such as sweeping, sprinkling, hugging, or kissing the idol, do not incur the death penalty.
Rashi explains that this refers to verbal oppression (אוֹנָאַת דְּבָרִים): causing pain through words, reminding a convert of his origins, or speaking to him in a demeaning manner. Rashi notes the parallel usage of the root in “וְהַאֲכַלְתִּי אֶת מוֹנַיִךְ” (ישעיהו מ״ט), which also denotes causing distress.
וְלֹא תִלְחָצֶנּוּ
This refers to monetary oppression—cheating, withholding payment, or robbing him financially (מכילתא).
כִּי גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם
Rashi explains that if one oppresses a convert, the convert can answer in kind: “You too descend from converts.” This teaches the ethical principle: Do not reproach another for a fault that exists within yourself (מכילתא).
Rashi adds a general definition: throughout Scripture, גר means a person not born in that land, but one who came from elsewhere to dwell there.
Rashi explains that in truth this prohibition applies to any person, but Scripture speaks of widows and orphans because they are especially vulnerable and commonly mistreated. The Torah addresses what is frequent and foreseeable (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this is an elliptical threat: the verse warns but does not immediately state the punishment, similar to “לָכֵן כָּל הֹרֵג קַיִן” (בראשית ד׳). The implication is: You will ultimately pay for it.
Why is this certain? Because the verse continues: “כִּי אִם צָעֹק יִצְעַק אֵלַי” — if they cry out to Hashem, He will surely hear.
Rashi asks: if the Torah already says “I will kill you by the sword,” is it not obvious that the wives will be widows and the children orphans?
Rashi explains that this is a distinct curse: the wives will become living widows—unable to remarry because there will be no witnesses to confirm their husbands’ deaths. The children will be considered orphans in practice, since Beis Din will not allow them to inherit property when it is unclear whether their fathers are dead or merely captured (מכילתא; בבא מציעא ל״ח).
Rashi cites Rabbi Yishmael: although the word אם usually indicates something optional, there are three exceptions in the Torah where it means when—and this is one of them. Lending money to the needy is not optional; it is an obligation (מכילתא).
אֶת עַמִּי
Rashi derives an ordered hierarchy of lending priorities:
Rashi adds another explanation: Do not treat him disrespectfully when lending, because despite his poverty he is still “My people.”
אֶת הֶעָנִי עִמָּךְ
Rashi teaches an ethical directive: view yourself as if you were the poor person (מדרש תנחומא).
לֹא תִהְיֶה לוֹ כְּנֹשֶׁה
Rashi explains that this forbids pressuring the borrower for repayment. If you know he cannot pay, do not behave toward him as though you had lent money at all—do not embarrass or humiliate him.
נֶשֶׁךְ
Rashi explains that this means interest (ריבית). It is called “biting” because it resembles a snakebite: initially unnoticed, but eventually it swells and causes great harm. Interest seems small at first, but ultimately drains a person of large sums (שמות רבה ל״א).
Rashi explains that חבלה never refers to taking collateral at the time of the loan, but only after the loan is due and unpaid (בבא מציעא קי״ד).
The doubled expression teaches repeated action: taking the pledge and returning it again and again. Rashi cites a Midrash: just as Hashem takes a person’s soul nightly to account and returns it each morning, so too one must repeatedly take and return the pledge (תנחומא).
עַד בֹּא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ תְּשִׁיבֶנּוּ לוֹ
Rashi explains that this refers to a daytime garment. It must be returned for use during the day and may be taken again at night, then returned again in the morning (מכילתא; בבא מציעא קי״ד).
Rashi explains that this refers to the outer cloak (טלית).
שִׂמְלָתוֹ
This refers to the inner garment worn against the skin.
בַּמֶּה יִשְׁכָּב
Rashi explains that this phrase includes bedding and coverings used for rest during the day. These too must be returned when needed (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this verse contains two prohibitions:
The warning for blasphemy appears here; its punishment is stated later (ויקרא כ״ד). The warning against cursing a judge is derived from the same term (מכילתא; סנהדרין ס״ו).
מְלֵאָתְךָ
Rashi explains that this refers to the obligation that devolves upon a person when his produce becomes fully ripe. The term designates bikkurim (first fruits), which must be separated as soon as the crop reaches maturity.
וְדִמְעֲךָ
Rashi explains, following Chazal, that this refers to terumah. He notes, however, that he does not know the etymological origin of the word דמע, though its meaning is established by tradition (מכילתא).
לֹא תְאַחֵר
Rashi explains that this is not merely a prohibition against delay in time, but against altering the prescribed order of separations. One may not give terumah before bikkurim, nor ma‘aser before terumah. The Torah demands fidelity to the divinely mandated sequence (מכילתא).
בְּכוֹר בָּנֶיךָ תִּתֶּן לִי
Rashi explains that this refers to pidyon ha-ben, the redemption of the firstborn son with five sela’im paid to a Kohen. Although this mitzvah is taught elsewhere, it is repeated here in order to juxtapose it with the law of firstborn animals that follows.
Rashi derives a comparison: just as a firstborn human is redeemed after thirty days, as stated “וּפְדוּיָו מִבֶּן חֹדֶשׁ תִּפְדֶּה” (Bamidbar 18), so too the owner of a firstborn kosher animal must tend to it for thirty days before giving it to the Kohen (Mekhilta; Bekhorot 26b).
שִׁבְעַת יָמִים יִהְיֶה עִם אִמּוֹ
Rashi explains that this is an admonition to the Kohen, not to the Israelite owner. Even if the animal is given early, the Kohen may not offer it before the eighth day, because an animal younger than that is considered mechusar zman—unfit due to insufficient time (Vayikra 22:27).
בַּיּוֹם הַשְּׁמִינִי תִּתְּנוֹ לִי
Rashi explains that this does not mean an obligation to give it precisely on the eighth day. Rather, through a gezeirah shavah with “וּמִיּוֹם הַשְּׁמִינִי וָהָלְאָה יֵרָצֶה” (Vayikra 22), the verse teaches eligibility, not immediacy. From the eighth day onward, it is fit to be offered. The meaning is: on the eighth day you may give it to Me (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that this verse establishes a conditional identity. If Israel conduct themselves in holiness and separate from the abominations of carrion and trefa, then they are truly Hashem’s people. If not, they forfeit that designation (מכילתא).
וּבָשָׂר בַּשָּׂדֶה טְרֵפָה לֹא תֹאכֵלוּ
Rashi explains that the prohibition applies equally if the animal was torn in the house. The Torah mentions the field only because that is the most common place for animals to be attacked. Scripture frequently speaks in terms of what is typical, not exclusive.
Rashi cites parallels: “כִּי בַשָּׂדֶה מְצָאָהּ” (Devarim 22) and “מִקְרֵה לָיְלָה” (Devarim 23), where the law applies beyond the literal setting.
Rashi also brings the Targum, which renders this as flesh torn from a living animal, whether from a wild kosher animal or domestic kosher livestock, disqualifying it from consumption.
לַכֶּלֶב תַּשְׁלִכוּן אֹתוֹ
Rashi explains that the meat may be given not only to dogs, but also to non-Jews, since the Torah explicitly permits selling carrion to a foreigner (Devarim 14). By kal va’chomer, trefa—being less severe than carrion—is permitted for benefit.
Why then specify the dog? Rashi explains that the Torah teaches two lessons:
Because dogs did not bark at Bnei Yisrael during the Exodus (“וּלְכֹל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לֹא יֶחֱרַץ כֶּלֶב לְשֹׁנוֹ” — Shemos 11), Hashem decreed their reward here (מכילתא).
Chapter 22 expands the Torah’s legal system into the realms of property, responsibility, trust, and social vulnerability. Rashi elucidates laws of theft, restitution, and damages, clarifying when force is permitted in self-defense and when restraint is required. He then develops the nuanced framework of guardianship—unpaid bailees, paid bailees, borrowers, and renters—each held to different standards of liability based on benefit and trust. The chapter culminates in powerful moral imperatives: protecting converts, widows, and orphans; lending with dignity; prohibiting interest; and guarding the poor from humiliation. Rashi presents Mishpatim not merely as law, but as a system designed to cultivate empathy, restraint, and moral sensitivity within a just society.
Rashi explains, following the Targum, that this prohibits accepting false testimony or slander. The command applies both to an individual—who must not accept lashon hara—and to a judge, who may not hear the claims of one litigant before the other appears (מכילתא; סנהדרין ז׳).
אַל תָּשֶׁת יָדְךָ עִם רָשָׁע
Rashi explains that this forbids joining with a wicked person who advances a false claim, including agreeing to serve as a witness whose testimony would cause injustice—becoming an “eid chamas.”
Rashi presents the classic derashos of Chazal in capital cases:
Rashi then offers the peshat: if you see the many perverting justice, do not say, “Since they are many, I will follow them.” Truth is not determined by numbers.
וְלֹא תַעֲנֶה עַל רִב לִנְטֹת
On peshat, if asked your view, do not answer in a way that tilts judgment away from truth to align with the majority; state the matter as it truly is and let responsibility rest where it belongs (סנהדרין ז׳).
Rashi explains that a judge may not favor the poor out of compassion—saying, “He is indigent; I will rule for him.” Justice must be impartial.
Rashi explains that כִּי here means “perhaps,” spoken as a question: Can you see your enemy’s donkey collapsed under its load and refrain from helping?
עָזֹב תַּעֲזֹב עִמּוֹ
Rashi clarifies that עזיבה here means assistance—to help unload the burden. Chazal derive limits: there are cases where one may refrain (e.g., if helping would compromise one’s dignity, or where the animal belongs to a non-Jew but the load to a Jew) (מכילתא).
Rashi explains אֶבְיֹנְךָ as one who is destitute and longs (אבה) for all good. The prohibition forbids distorting justice against the poor—neither favoring nor disadvantaging him.
Rashi derives procedural law:
כִּי לֹא אַצְדִּיק רָשָׁע
Rashi explains that if an acquitted person is in truth guilty, Hashem will not vindicate him in Divine judgment; human courts need not reopen the case (מכילתא).
Rashi explains that bribery is forbidden even to judge truthfully, and certainly to pervert judgment (כתובות ק״ה).
יְעַוֵּר פִּקְחִים
Even a Torah scholar who takes a bribe will ultimately have his judgment clouded, forget his learning, and lose clarity.
וִיסַלֵּף דִּבְרֵי צַדִּיקִים
Rashi explains that bribery corrupts upright words—true judgments given at Sinai—rendering them distorted.
Rashi explains that the Torah repeatedly warns against oppressing the ger because his background makes him especially vulnerable; mistreatment is therefore both common and particularly harmful (בבא מציעא נ״ט).
אֶת נֶפֶשׁ הַגֵּר
Rashi explains this as an appeal to empathy: you know how painful it is for him when he is oppressed.
וְאָסַפְתָּ אֶת תְּבוּאָתָהּ
Rashi explains that אסיפה means gathering produce into the house, as elsewhere in Tanach, emphasizing the normal agricultural cycle preceding Shemittah.
תִּשְׁמְטֶנָּה
Rashi explains: cease from labor—do not till the land.
וּנְטַשְׁתָּהּ
Rashi explains: cease from consumption after the time of biur.
Alternatively: refrain even from secondary acts such as fertilizing or hoeing (סוכה מ״ד).
וְיֶתֶרָם תֹּאכַל חַיַּת הַשָּׂדֶה
Rashi explains that this juxtaposes the poor with wild animals: just as animals eat without tithes, so too the poor eat Shemittah produce without ma‘aser. From here Chazal derive that there is no ma‘aser in the seventh year (מכילתא).
כֵּן תַּעֲשֶׂה לְכַרְמְךָ
Rashi clarifies that the opening phrase spoke of a grain field; this extends the same Shemittah laws to vineyards.
Rashi explains that even during the Shemittah year, the weekly Shabbos remains fully in force. One may not argue that the year-long “Sabbath” replaces Shabbos Bereishis (מכילתא).
לְמַעַן יָנוּחַ שׁוֹרְךָ וַחֲמֹרֶךָ
Rashi explains that this means to give the animal satisfaction, allowing it to graze freely—not to restrain it, which would cause distress.
בֶּן אֲמָתֶךָ
Rashi explains this refers to an uncircumcised Canaanite servant.
וְהַגֵּר
This refers to a ger toshav, a resident alien who has renounced idolatry.
Rashi explains that the language of שְׁמִירָה places even positive commandments under a framework of warning, since “guarding” in the Torah often carries the force of a prohibition (מנחות ל״ו).
וְשֵׁם אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים לֹא תַזְכִּירוּ
Rashi explains that one may not reference idolatry even incidentally, such as arranging meetings by reference to an idol or its festival.
Alternatively, the juxtaposition teaches that idolatry is equivalent to rejecting the entire Torah, and avoidance of it is equivalent to observing all mitzvos (הוריות ח׳).
לֹא יִשָּׁמַע עַל פִּיךָ
Rashi explains that one may not enter partnerships with non-Jews that could lead them to swear by their gods, thereby causing idolatry to be invoked through one’s agency (סנהדרין ס״ז).
Rashi explains that רְגָלִים means occasions / times, as elsewhere in Tanach.
חֹדֶשׁ הָאָבִיב
Rashi explains that this is the month in which grain reaches its first ripening; אָבִיב connotes maturity and firstness.
וְלֹא יֵרָאוּ פָנַי רֵיקָם
Rashi explains that appearing before Hashem on the festivals requires bringing offerings, specifically olos (מכילתא; חגיגה ז׳).
Rashi identifies this as Shavuos.
בִּכּוּרֵי מַעֲשֶׂיךָ
Rashi explains that this is the season for bringing bikkurim. The offering of the two loaves on Shavuos permits the new grain for meal offerings and authorizes bringing first fruits to the Mikdash (מנחות ס״ח).
וְחַג הָאָסִף
Rashi identifies this as Sukkos, when produce that dried in the fields over the summer is gathered indoors ahead of the rains.
Rashi explains that since the context includes Shemittah, the Torah emphasizes that the festival cycle remains unchanged even in the seventh year (מכילתא).
כָּל זְכוּרְךָ
This refers to all male members of Israel.
Rashi explains that the Korban Pesach may not be slaughtered while chametz is still present in one’s possession on the fourteenth of Nissan (מכילתא).
וְלֹא יָלִין חֵלֶב חַגִּי
Rashi explains that sacrificial fats must not remain off the altar overnight.
עַד בֹּקֶר
Rashi clarifies that “overnight” means until dawn. Fats may be placed on the altar throughout the night; the prohibition applies only if they were not offered by morning (ויקרא ו׳; מגילה כ׳).
Rashi explains that bikkurim apply even in the seventh year in cases where produce grows. Therefore, even within the broader context of Shemittah, the Torah repeats the obligation of first fruits.
Rashi describes the procedure: a person enters his field, sees the first fig to ripen, ties a reed around it as a sign, and consecrates it.
Rashi emphasizes that bikkurim apply only to the seven species for which Eretz Yisrael is praised: wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives, and dates (Mishnah Bikkurim 3:1).
לֹא תְבַשֵּׁל גְּדִי
Rashi explains that גְּדִי does not mean only a goat; it refers to any young animal, including a calf or lamb. He proves this from verses where the Torah must specify “גדי עזים,” implying that an unspecified גדי includes other species.
Rashi teaches that this prohibition appears three times in the Torah:
Rashi explains that this verse hints that Israel will one day sin, necessitating a messenger rather than Hashem’s direct Presence, as stated later: “I will not go up among you” (Shemos 33).
אֲשֶׁר הֲכִנֹתִי
On the peshat level, this means the place prepared for you.
Midrashically, Rashi explains that it refers to the Heavenly Temple, aligned directly opposite the earthly Temple. This verse is among those teaching that the Mikdash above corresponds exactly to the Mikdash below (Midrash Tanchuma).
Rashi explains that this means do not rebel against him, using the same root as rebellion against authority (Yehoshua 1).
כִּי לֹא יִשָּׂא לְפִשְׁעֲכֶם
The angel cannot forgive sins, because forgiveness belongs solely to Hashem. Moreover, the angel does not sin and is merely executing his mission.
כִּי שְׁמִי בְּקִרְבּוֹ
Rashi explains that Hashem’s Name is associated with this angel. Chazal identify him as Metatron, whose name shares a numerical value with שדי (Sanhedrin 38b).
Rashi explains, in accordance with the Targum, that this means: I will distress your enemies.
Rashi explains that this refers specifically to their gods, which must be utterly destroyed.
מַצֵּבֹתֵיהֶם
These are stone monuments erected for idol worship, before which people would prostrate themselves.
Rashi explains that this promise is conditional: if you do My will, no woman will miscarry or lose her children prematurely.
מְשַׁכֵּלָה
This refers to a woman who miscarries or buries her children at a young age.
Rashi explains that this word is derived from המם (to confuse), not from מוּת (to kill). It means: I will confound them.
Rashi provides a detailed grammatical explanation, showing that the vowelization and dagesh prove it does not mean killing, but panic and disorientation.
עֹרֶף
This means the nape of the neck. The enemies will flee, turning their backs toward Israel.
Rashi explains that the hornet was a flying creature that struck enemies in the eyes and injected poison.
The hornet did not cross the Jordan. It afflicted the peoples of Sichon and Og. Although the Chivvi lived beyond the Jordan, Chazal teach that the hornets stood at the riverbank and hurled venom across (Sotah 36a).
Rashi explains that this means desolate of people. Hashem would not expel the nations all at once, because Israel was not yet numerous enough to inhabit the land fully.
וְרַבָּה עָלֶיךָ
This refers to wild animals multiplying if the land were emptied too quickly.
Rashi explains that תפרה means you will increase, from the root פרי, as in “פרו ורבו.”
Rashi explains this is from the root שית, meaning to set or establish. The grammatical doubling of the letter ת accounts for both the root and the conjugation.
עַד הַנָּהָר
This refers to the Euphrates.
וְגֵרַשְׁתְּמוֹ
Rashi explains simply: you will drive them out.
Rashi explains that both instances of כִּי here mean “that” (אֲשֶׁר), not “if.”
The verse warns: that if you serve their gods, it will surely become a snare for you.
Rashi notes that כִּי has four possible meanings in the Torah, and here it functions as a clause of consequence, not contingency.
Chapter 23 turns toward the moral integrity of leadership, courts, and communal conscience. Rashi highlights the Torah’s uncompromising demand for truth—rejecting false testimony, mob justice, favoritism, and bribery. Justice must be pursued without distortion, whether born of compassion, fear, or convenience. Alongside judicial ethics, Rashi weaves in mitzvos of kindness, environmental responsibility, and sacred time: assisting an enemy’s animal, observing Shemittah, honoring Shabbos, and celebrating the pilgrimage festivals. The chapter concludes with promises of Divine guidance and gradual conquest, teaching that spiritual fidelity, patience, and obedience are prerequisites for national success. Law, compassion, and faith are shown to be inseparable pillars of covenantal life.
Rashi explains that this section was spoken before the Aseres HaDibros. The verb אָמַר is in the pluperfect sense: Hashem had said to Moshe. The command “עלה” was given on the fourth of Sivan (Shabbat 88a).
Rashi explains that Moshe alone was permitted to approach the thick darkness (הָעֲרָפֶל), as described earlier (Shemos 20:18). The others were not allowed to draw near.
Rashi explains that this took place on that very day, the fourth of Sivan.
אֵת כָּל דִּבְרֵי ה'
These were the commands of separation from marital relations and the setting of boundaries around Mount Sinai.
וְאֵת כָּל הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים
Rashi explains that these were laws already given prior to Sinai:
Rashi explains that Moshe wrote from Bereishis until Matan Torah, as well as the commandments that had been given at Marah.
וַיַּשְׁכֵּם בַּבֹּקֶר
This was the fifth of Sivan (Shabbat 88a).
Rashi explains that הַנְּעָרִים refers to the firstborn sons, who at this stage served in the sacrificial service (Zevachim 115b; Onkelos).
Rashi asks: Who divided the blood into two halves?
He answers: an angel descended and divided it (Vayikra Rabbah 6).
בָּאַגָּנֹת
There were two basins:
From here Chazal derive that Klal Yisrael entered the covenant through three acts:
Although immersion is not stated explicitly, Rashi explains that sprinkling is invalid without immersion beforehand (Keritot 9a).
Rashi explains that this was the written Torah from Bereishis until Matan Torah, together with the commandments given at Marah (as described in verse 4).
Rashi explains that this refers to sprinkling, not throwing.
The Targum renders it: he poured the blood upon the altar as atonement for the people, interpreting עַל הָעָם as on behalf of the people, not literally upon them.
Rashi explains that they gazed improperly, peering in an attempt to apprehend the Divine, and thereby became liable to death.
Hashem, however, did not punish them immediately, so as not to disturb the joy of Matan Torah.
כְּמַעֲשֵׂה לִבְנַת הַסַּפִּיר
Rashi explains that this sapphire-like brickwork was before Hashem during the Egyptian bondage, serving as a memorial of Israel’s suffering in brick labor (Vayikra Rabbah).
וּכְעֶצֶם הַשָּׁמַיִם לָטֹהַר
Once Israel was redeemed, there was radiance and joy before Him.
כְּעֶצֶם
Means appearance, as rendered by the Targum.
לָטֹהַר
Means clarity and brightness.
Rashi identifies these as Nadav, Avihu, and the elders.
לֹא שָׁלַח יָדוֹ
This implies that they were worthy of punishment, yet Hashem withheld His hand (Midrash Tanchuma).
וַיֶּחֱזוּ אֶת הָאֱלֹהִים וַיֹּאכְלוּ וַיִּשְׁתּוּ
Midrashically, Rashi explains that they gazed at Hashem with a sense of casual familiarity, as though in the midst of eating and drinking.
Onkelos, however, interprets the verse positively: they rejoiced in the acceptance of their offerings, as though eating and drinking.
אֲצִילֵי
Means great ones or nobles, as in other verses denoting elevation and distinction.
Rashi explains that this occurred after Matan Torah.
עֲלֵה אֵלַי הָהָרָה וֶהְיֵה שָׁם
Moshe was commanded to remain forty days.
אֶת לֻחֹת הָאֶבֶן וְהַתּוֹרָה וְהַמִּצְוָה
Rashi explains that all 613 mitzvos are implicitly contained within the Aseres HaDibros.
Rabbi Saadia Gaon later articulated which mitzvos correspond to each Dibbur.
Rashi explains that Yehoshua accompanied Moshe only until the boundary of the mountain, beyond which he was not permitted to proceed.
Yehoshua then remained there for the entire forty days, which explains how he later heard the sound of the people at the sin of the Golden Calf (Shemos 32:17).
Rashi explains that this was said when Moshe departed from the camp.
שְׁבוּ לָנוּ בָּזֶה
The elders were instructed to remain and judge disputes among the people.
חוּר
Rashi explains that Hur was the son of Miriam, and his father was Calev ben Yefuneh (Sotah 11b).
מִי בַעַל דְּבָרִים
Means anyone who has a legal claim.
Rashi records a dispute among Chazal:
וַיִּקְרָא אֶל מֹשֶׁה בַּיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי
Hashem called Moshe by name, granting him honor, even though all of Israel stood present.
Rashi explains that this cloud was thick like smoke, and Hashem formed a path within it so Moshe could enter (Yoma 4b).
Chapter 24 returns the narrative to Sinai, sealing the covenant between Hashem and Israel. Rashi emphasizes that this chapter is chronologically earlier than many of the laws preceding it, underscoring that acceptance precedes obligation. Through sacrifices, blood sprinkling, and the proclamation of Naaseh v’Nishma, the nation binds itself fully to Divine law. Rashi’s commentary reveals the profound seriousness of this moment—where leaders behold the Divine Presence, Moshe ascends into the cloud, and Torah is entrusted to human hands. The chapter concludes with Moshe’s forty-day ascent, marking the transition from revelation to transmission, and setting the stage for both the greatness and fragility of the covenant that follows.
Across Parshas Mishpatim, Rashi reveals that the Torah’s system of law is not a departure from revelation but its fulfillment. The civil ordinances that follow Sinai are shown to be saturated with Divine intent, balancing justice with compassion, accountability with dignity, and authority with restraint. Through precise legal distinctions and penetrating Midrashic insight, Rashi demonstrates that every law—whether governing courts, property, labor, injury, or social responsibility—shapes moral consciousness as much as external behavior. Mishpatim emerges as a vision of a society ordered not merely by rules, but by covenantal ethics, where human interaction becomes a daily expression of service to Hashem and fidelity to the revelation at Sinai.
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Ramban approaches Parshas Mishpatim as the natural continuation of the revelation at Sinai. After the awe of the Ten Commandments, the Torah now turns to the concrete laws that shape the daily life of a holy nation. For Ramban, these ordinances are not merely civil regulations, but expressions of Divine wisdom, forming a just society rooted in reverence for Hashem and compassion for fellow human beings. The laws of servants, damages, loans, judges, and strangers all reflect the same covenantal relationship established at Sinai.
Throughout his commentary, Ramban shows how these mitzvot flow directly from the principles revealed in the Ten Commandments. Justice between people, sensitivity to the weak, and the rejection of idolatry are not separate themes but parts of a single Divine system. Mishpatim, in Ramban’s view, demonstrates that holiness is not confined to the mountain of revelation; it is realized in courts, homes, fields, and marketplaces, wherever the Torah’s laws govern human conduct.
וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם
“And these are the ordinances which you shall set before them.”
Ramban explains that the placement of the mishpatim here is deliberate. After the revelation of the Aseres HaDibros, Hashem chose to present the civil laws immediately, because they complete and concretize the moral demands already stated in the Ten Commandments.
In the Aseres HaDibros, the first commandment establishes knowledge of Hashem, and the second prohibits avodah zarah. Afterward, Hashem told Moshe:
“אַתֶּם רְאִיתֶם כִּי מִן הַשָּׁמַיִם דִּבַּרְתִּי עִמָּכֶם” — “You have seen that I spoke with you from heaven” (שמות כ:כ״ב).
This corresponds to “אָנֹכִי,” reinforcing the reality of the revelation, and the prohibition of making gods of silver and gold corresponds to “לֹא יִהְיֶה לְךָ.”
Ramban explains that “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים” corresponds to the commandment “לֹא תַחְמֹד.” Without knowledge of legal ownership—of houses, fields, and property—a person may assume that another’s possessions belong to him, and thus covet and seize them. Therefore, the Torah establishes just laws to govern society, so that people will not desire what does not legally belong to them.
This concept is reflected in the teaching of the Midrash:
“כָּל הַתּוֹרָה כֻּלָּהּ תְּלוּיָה בַּמִּשְׁפָּט” — “The entire Torah depends on justice” (שמו״ר ל:ט״ו).
Therefore, Hashem gave the civil laws immediately after the Ten Commandments.
Ramban further notes that this section elaborates upon several commandments from the Aseres HaDibros, including:
Thus, the mishpatim function as the practical legal expression of the moral foundations of the Dibros.
Ramban then turns to the phrase “לִפְנֵיהֶם” — “before them.” Chazal derive from this wording that the laws must be judged “before them,” meaning before Jewish judges, and not before non-Jewish courts (תנחומא א; גיטין פח:).
This interpretation is based on the fact that the verse could have said “אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לָהֶם” — “which you shall set for them,” as in:
“שָׁם שָׂם לוֹ חֹק וּמִשְׁפָּט” (שמות ט״ו:כ״ה).
Instead, it says “לִפְנֵיהֶם,” implying that the laws are to be placed before judges.
Ramban supports this reading by citing verses where “לִפְנֵי” refers specifically to judicial proceedings:
Chazal further interpret:
“לִפְנֵיהֶם” — and not before laymen.
This is derived from the language used in the laws themselves:
These terms refer to ordained expert judges who received semichah in an unbroken chain from Moshe Rabbeinu.
Therefore, Ramban explains, the verse teaches that these laws must be brought before properly ordained Torah judges, and not before:
It is forbidden to appoint such a layman as judge or to compel another litigant to appear before him, even if he is knowledgeable and would rule correctly. The layman himself is also forbidden to judge such cases.
However, Ramban distinguishes between these two cases. Although Chazal mentioned both together:
כִּי תִקְנֶה עֶבֶד עִבְרִי
“When you acquire a Hebrew servant…”
Ramban explains that the Torah begins the civil laws with the subject of the Hebrew servant because his release in the seventh year is a remembrance of Yetzias Mitzrayim, which is referenced in the first commandment.
As it says regarding this mitzvah:
“וְזָכַרְתָּ כִּי עֶבֶד הָיִיתָ בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם וַיִּפְדְּךָ ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ”
“You shall remember that you were a servant in the land of Egypt, and Hashem your G-d redeemed you” (דברים ט״ו:ט״ו).
This law also serves as a remembrance of Maaseh Bereishis, just as Shabbos does. The seventh year grants the servant a complete rest from his master’s labor, just as the seventh day provides rest from labor.
In addition, there is another “seventh” among the years—the Yovel. The number seven is singled out among:
All these point to a single underlying concept:
the secret of the days of the world, from “בְּרֵאשִׁית” (בראשית א:א) until “וַיְכֻלּוּ” (בראשית ב:א).
Because of this deep symbolism, the mitzvah of the Hebrew servant is fitting to be placed first among the mishpatim, since it alludes to profound truths embedded in the structure of creation.
Ramban adds that the prophet Yirmiyahu was extremely strict about this mitzvah. He declared:
“אָנֹכִי כָּרַתִּי בְרִית אֶת אֲבוֹתֵיכֶם… מִקֵּץ שֶׁבַע שָׁנִים תְּשַׁלְּחוּ אִישׁ אֶת עַבְדּוֹ”
“I made a covenant with your fathers… at the end of seven years you shall release each man his servant” (ירמיה ל״ד:י״ג–י״ד).
Because this commandment was violated, exile was decreed, just as the Torah decrees exile for neglecting the Shemittah of the land (ויקרא כ״ו:ל״ד–ל״ה). Ramban notes that he will explain this further in his commentary to that section.
Ramban then describes the internal order of the laws in the parsha. After completing the laws of the Hebrew servant, the Torah proceeds through a structured sequence reflecting the Aseres HaDibros:
Thus, Ramban concludes, all the sections are arranged in a deliberate and proper order, with precise intention.
וְיָצְאָה אִשְׁתּוֹ עִמּוֹ
“Then his wife shall go out with him.”
Ramban begins by citing Rashi, who asks: who brought the wife in, that the verse should say she goes out? Rather, the Torah teaches that one who acquires a Hebrew servant is obligated to provide sustenance for the servant’s wife and children. This is based on the Midrash (מכילתא), and the inclusion of the children is learned from the verse:
“וְיָצָא מֵעִמָּךְ הוּא וּבָנָיו עִמּוֹ” (ויקרא כ״ה:מ״א).
Ramban notes that he is uncertain whether the earnings of the wife and children belong to the master during the time he supports them. He suggests that the master takes the place of the husband. The Torah had compassion on the wife and children, whose livelihood depends on the husband. Since the husband is now sold as a servant, they would otherwise be left destitute. Therefore, the Torah commands the master—who now receives the servant’s labor—to assume the husband’s role toward them.
Accordingly:
This is the meaning of “וְיָצְאָה אִשְׁתּוֹ עִמּוֹ”—the wife was together with the servant as a kind of handmaid to the master, for the labor of both belonged to him, and he in turn was obligated to support them. The difference is that the wife retains the right to leave and is not bound to work for the master if she chooses not to accept his support.
Similarly, the master’s obligation toward the children applies only when the father would ordinarily be responsible for them—namely, when they are minors or at the age when it is customary to support them, as Rashi explains in Kiddushin.
All of this is an expression of Hashem’s compassion for the servant and his family. The Torah ensures that the servant does not suffer the anguish of knowing that while he toils in another’s house, his wife and children are abandoned. Although the Torah does not strictly obligate a man to support his family (כתובות מ״ט), it is the normal practice of the world. Therefore, in His mercy, Hashem commands the master to act like a compassionate father toward them. The term “בָּנָיו” includes both sons and daughters.
Ramban cites a teaching in the Mechilta:
This supports Ramban’s explanation: since such women are not ordinarily supported by the man, the Torah did not impose their support on the master. Even if the husband or yavam becomes obligated at a certain time to support them, that is merely a debt of his, and does not transfer to the master.
Ramban then cites another teaching from the Mechilta of Rabbi Shimon:
However:
Similarly:
The phrase “וְיָצְאָה אִשְׁתּוֹ עִמּוֹ” also teaches:
Ramban concludes that, in his view, if the wife and children choose to be supported by the master, then he may take their earnings, as he explained earlier. The Beraitha only teaches that they are not automatically his, as in the case of a Canaanite slave or the Hebrew servant himself. Rather:
From the Beraitha it is also learned:
Finally, from the word “עִמּוֹ,” the Sages derive that the master may not force the servant to live with the bondwoman he gave him instead of his Jewish wife. The matter is left to the servant’s own choice.
אִם אֲדֹנָיו יִתֶּן לוֹ אִשָּׁה
“If his master gives him a wife…”
Ramban cites a Beraitha from the Mechilta:
Rashi had explained that the verse might refer to a Hebrew maidservant, since she too goes free after six years, or earlier upon reaching signs of maturity, as stated:
“כִּי יִמָּכֵר לְךָ אָחִיךָ הָעִבְרִי אוֹ הָעִבְרִיָּה” (דברים ט״ו:י״ב).
Ramban rejects this explanation.
If the verse referred to a Hebrew woman sold by her father as a minor:
Therefore, the case cannot refer to a Hebrew maidservant.
Ramban also challenges Rashi’s proof that a Hebrew maidservant goes free after six years:
If so:
Therefore, the verse must be speaking of a Canaanite woman.
The proof is the phrase:
“הָאִשָּׁה וִילָדֶיהָ תִּהְיֶה לַאדֹנֶיהָ” — the wife and her children belong to the master.
This is true only of a Canaanite bondwoman:
But in the case of a Jewish woman:
וְהִגִּישׁוֹ אֲדֹנָיו אֶל הָאֱלֹהִים
“Then his master shall bring him to the judges.”
Ramban cites Rashi, who explains that “אֶל הָאֱלֹהִים” refers to the court (בית דין), and that the servant must consult with those who sold him, as stated in the Mechilta.
Ibn Ezra explains that judges are called “אֱלֹהִים” because they uphold the laws of Hashem on earth.
Ramban, however, offers his own interpretation. He explains that the Torah uses the expression “אֶל הָאֱלֹהִים” to indicate that Hashem is present with the judges in the act of judgment. It is He who declares who is righteous and who is guilty. This is reflected in the verse:
Similarly:
This means that Hashem stands among the judges, for He is the true Judge. So too it says:
This, Ramban explains, is also the meaning of the verse:
According to the correct interpretation, the judgment belongs to Hashem.
Ramban further cites a Midrash (שמות רבה ל:כ״ד) which states:
When a judge sits and renders judgment truthfully, the Holy One, blessed be He, as it were, leaves the highest heavens and causes His Shechinah to dwell beside him, as it says:
“וַה׳ הָיָה עִם הַשֹּׁפֵט” (שופטים ב:י״ח).
וַעֲבָדוֹ לְעוֹלָם
“And he shall serve him forever.”
Chazal interpret this phrase to mean until the Yovel year (מכילתא).
Ibn Ezra explains that the word “עוֹלָם” in the holy tongue does not necessarily mean eternity, but rather a span of time. For example:
Accordingly, “וַעֲבָדוֹ לְעוֹלָם” means until the time of the Yovel, since among the appointed times of Israel, the Yovel is the most distant. When the servant goes free then, it is as though a new world begins for him, and he returns to his original state of freedom.
Ramban adds that the one who understands the deeper wisdom will grasp that “לְעוֹלָם” retains its plain meaning of “forever,” because one who serves until the Yovel has effectively served for all the days of his world.
The Mechilta states:
“Come and see that ‘olam’ is no more than fifty years, for it says ‘וַעֲבָדוֹ לְעוֹלָם’—until the Yovel.”
Ramban concludes by remarking that Ibn Ezra forgot what he himself had written with understanding in another place.
לֹא תֵצֵא כְּצֵאת הָעֲבָדִים
“She shall not go out as the male servants go out.”
Ramban cites Rashi, who explains that a Hebrew maidservant does not go free due to the loss of a tooth or an eye, as Canaanite slaves do. This interpretation is also taught by Chazal in the Mechilta.
Ramban accepts the ruling, but questions why the Torah needed to state it explicitly. Perhaps the verse was needed to prevent a kal va-chomer argument: since a Canaanite maidservant goes free because of the loss of a tooth or eye, one might think the same should apply to a Hebrew maidservant. Therefore, the Torah states explicitly that she does not go out in that manner. The law is written regarding the Hebrew maidservant, and the Hebrew male servant is compared to her, so the same rule applies to him as well.
However, the author of the Halachot Gedolot explains differently. He writes that the release of a slave due to the loss of a tooth or eye is a penalty imposed on the master, and one cannot derive laws from penalties by logical reasoning. According to this approach, the verse constitutes a negative commandment:
Ramban explains the moral logic of this view:
Therefore, the Torah imposed a strict prohibition, so that the master should not deprive her of her rightful compensation by simply freeing her.
Ramban adds that it may even be forbidden for the master to free her before the fixed time, because:
This parallels the warning given after designation:
According to this understanding, the verse “לֹא תֵצֵא כְּצֵאת הָעֲבָדִים” is counted among the 365 negative commandments.
לְעַם נָכְרִי לֹא יִמְשֹׁל לְמָכְרָהּ
“To a foreign people he shall have no power to sell her.”
Ramban begins by citing Rashi, who explains:
According to this reading, “לְעַם נָכְרִי” would mean “to a foreign man.” Ramban objects that throughout Tanach, the word “עַם” is not used to mean an individual man.
He therefore proposes a grammatical explanation: the phrase should be read as “לְעַם לְנָכְרִי”—“to a people, namely a foreigner.” Similar constructions appear elsewhere, such as:
There, the second phrase explains the first: “to a people”—who are they?—“those of the wilderness.” So too here:
Thus, the term “נָכְרִי” here means “another man,” as in:
In these cases, “נָכְרִי” refers to someone who is not the person’s own spouse or household member. Ramban offers this interpretation to uphold the teaching of Chazal that a father may not sell his daughter into servitude more than once. Once he has “dealt deceitfully” with her by selling her, he may not do so again.
However, Ramban then cites the Mechilta, which explains differently:
From the language of the Mechilta, it appears this is not a prohibition against reselling her to another Jewish master, but rather an absolute prohibition against selling her at all to a non-Jew.
This was necessary because regarding a Hebrew male servant, the Torah states:
Since a Hebrew man may be sold to a non-Jew, the Torah needed to specify that a daughter may not be sold in this way. The reason is self-evident.
According to the plain meaning of the verse:
The Torah emphasized this because a father might be tempted:
The Torah therefore warns him against doing so.
Alternatively, the phrase may refer back to the opening of the section:
If so, the Talmudic teaching that one may not sell his daughter twice into servitude is derived not from “לְעַם נָכְרִי,” but from the phrase:
Since he can never sell her to a non-Jew, why mention “בְּבִגְדוֹ בָהּ”? The phrase teaches:
Thus Chazal interpret the verse as:
Ramban notes that such interpretive structures are common in the Torah, where phrases are split and recombined for halachic derivations. He gives examples:
Similarly:
Ramban then presents the straightforward meaning of the passage:
Rather:
If she does not please him:
And he may not sell her to a foreign people at that point, because:
Alternatively, Ramban concludes, the verse may mean more broadly:
כְּמִשְׁפַּט הַבָּנוֹת יַעֲשֶׂה לָּהּ
“He shall deal with her according to the manner of daughters.”
According to the plain meaning, Ramban explains:
If the master designates her for his son, the term “יִיעָדֶנָּה” refers to arranging a marriage, as in:
Then he must treat her as a father treats his daughters:
This parallels the mitzvah of הענקה (gifts to a freed servant), and reflects Hashem’s kindness.
However, according to the interpretation of Chazal—which Ramban affirms as the true one—the verse means:
The Torah then explains what this entails:
It is obvious that if he does not take another wife he must provide these, but the Torah speaks of the common case.
Rashi explains:
Onkelos likewise renders “שְׁאֵרָהּ” as sustenance.
However, Ramban notes that in the Gemara (כתובות מ״ז:), the opinion that “שְׁאֵרָהּ” refers to food is that of a single Sage. The accepted halachah is that the husband’s obligation to provide food is rabbinic, not biblical.
Moreover, on the plain level, it would be strange for the Torah to refer to food using the term “שְׁאֵר,” which literally means flesh. It would have been more natural to say “לחמה,” since bread is the primary sustenance of man.
Ramban therefore offers his own explanation. The word “שְׁאֵר” consistently refers to flesh that is close to a person’s own flesh. It is related to the term “שְׁאֵר בְּשָׂרוֹ,” meaning close relatives, as in:
This is related to expressions such as:
Similarly, meat is called “שְׁאֵר” because when eaten it becomes part of one’s flesh, as in:
Thus, a wife is called “שְׁאֵר” to her husband, as the Sages interpret:
This derives from the verse:
Therefore, Ramban explains:
Thus, the verse speaks of the three elements of marital life:
The meaning is that even if he takes another wife:
For example:
Therefore, the Torah forbids such behavior.
Chazal similarly interpret:
Ramban concludes:
וְאִם שְׁלָשׁ אֵלֶּה… לֹא יַעֲשֶׂה לָהּ
“And if these three he does not do for her…”
Ramban explains that the verse refers back to the three options previously stated regarding the Hebrew maidservant:
If none of these are done for her, then:
וּמַכֵּה אָבִיו וְאִמּוֹ מוֹת יוּמָת
“And he that smiteth his father or his mother shall surely be put to death.”
Ramban notes that the Sages already taught that the death penalty for striking one’s parents is strangulation (חנק). Therefore:
However, the Torah separates this from the verse:
This is learned from the expression:
Ramban explains why the Torah is more severe regarding one who curses his parents than one who strikes them:
Alternatively:
Rav Saadia Gaon explains the placement of the law of kidnapping between the two parental laws:
Therefore:
וְגוֹנֵב אִישׁ וּמְכָרוֹ… וְנִמְצָא בְיָדוֹ
“And he that stealeth a man and selleth him… and he be found in his hand.”
Rashi explains:
Ramban questions this:
Rather, Ramban explains that the verse teaches a halachic condition:
This parallels the laws of monetary theft:
So too here:
If he sold the victim but the buyer never removed him from the thief’s domain:
Ramban is uncertain whether:
He concludes that it appears to be the latter.
Rashi, however, explains in the Talmud that:
According to Ramban, this adds nothing new beyond the regular laws of theft.
Ramban suggests another reading of the verse:
Or:
בְּאֶבֶן אוֹ בְּאֶגְרוֹף
“With a stone or with a fist.”
Ramban explains that, according to the Sages, “אֶגְרוֹף” refers to the hand closed into a fist, with the fingers gathered into the palm for striking. Examples include:
The Torah mentions two types of blows:
The point is:
If the victim dies from the blow:
If he survives:
The Mechilta teaches:
If the stone becomes mixed with other stones:
Other commentators explain:
The Torah mentions this to teach:
עַל מִשְׁעַנְתּוֹ
“Upon his staff.”
Ramban cites Rashi, who explains that this means the injured person returns to his former health and strength. Ibn Ezra interprets the phrase to mean that he is no longer dependent on others, as sick people are, but can walk on his own; only then is the assailant released from prison.
Ramban, however, explains the term in its literal sense: a staff. As in the verses:
The Torah is thus saying that when the injured person improves to the point that he can walk about in the streets, even with a staff, like someone recovering from a serious illness, the assailant is released. The verse also teaches that even if the injured person later neglects his health and dies as a result, the assailant is not liable for the death penalty.
The Torah speaks in the language of normal human conduct: one who has been bedridden does not go out into the streets until he has healed and is out of danger. Therefore, the phrase “and he walks abroad” indicates real recovery. If he merely rises and walks within his house on a staff and then dies, the assailant is not exempt.
The Mechilta explains:
This means that he must fully rise from his sickbed and regularly walk outside, not returning to bed as the sick normally do. Even if he is still weak and must lean on a staff, the assailant is exempt.
All this is figurative language reflecting ordinary behavior. The actual legal principle is that the victim must be medically assessed as likely to recover.
The verse then states:
“רַק שִׁבְתּוֹ יִתֵּן וְרַפֹּא יְרַפֵּא”
“Only he shall pay for his lost time, and shall cause him to be thoroughly healed.”
The Torah does not say “he shall pay his lost time and his medical expenses,” but rather “he shall heal him.” This teaches that the assailant must pay the doctors directly to heal the injured person, and the victim cannot demand the money and use it for other purposes. He must be healed under all circumstances.
וְכִי יַכֶּה אִישׁ אֶת עַבְדּוֹ
“And if a man smites his servant…”
Ramban explains that Chazal derived from the phrase “for he is his money” that this verse refers to a Canaanite slave. This is also the plain meaning, since a Hebrew servant is never called simply “eved” or “amah” without qualification.
The Torah specifies:
This reflects the common custom of a master holding a rod in his hand. Even if the rod is one of discipline and not a heavy stick, the Torah warns him not to strike the slave with excessive blows.
The phrase:
means that the master struck him repeatedly until he died.
The Torah does not need to spell out the punishment. It only states that he is not exempt because the slave is his property. Rather, he is punished just like any other person who strikes another and causes death, about whom the Torah says:
The next verse states:
“אַךְ אִם יוֹם אוֹ יוֹמַיִם יַעֲמֹד”
“Notwithstanding, if he stands for a day or two…”
According to the plain meaning:
Initially, the verse said:
which might imply immediate death. Therefore the Torah clarifies:
But if he never stood at all, even if he died on the second day:
The Torah does not mention the third day, because if the slave lived three days, the master is exempt, since this is no longer considered immediate death under his hand.
According to Chazal, however, the phrase “a day or two” teaches a precise measure:
The word “יַעֲמֹד” thus means “he continues to live,” as in:
This, Ramban says, is the correct and true interpretation.
כַּאֲשֶׁר יָשִׁית עָלָיו בַּעַל הָאִשָּׁה
“As the woman’s husband shall lay upon him.”
Rashi explains that this means:
Ramban accepts this interpretation. The verse means that the assailant must pay compensation for the miscarriage when the husband takes him to court—not when the woman does so, since the compensation belongs to the husband.
Onkelos translates the phrase as:
Ibn Ezra explains that the meaning is:
Ramban rejects this explanation, asking why the verse would mention such an arrangement.
He explains that the damage here is not easily measurable:
Therefore, although exact monetary damages cannot be calculated, the Torah imposes a penalty in the form of a fine.
This is similar to verses that use the term “עֹנֶשׁ” (penalty):
Thus, the punishment is determined as the husband lays upon him, since the children are dear to him. However:
As the Mechilta states:
עַיִן תַּחַת עַיִן
“An eye for an eye.”
Ramban states that it is well known from the tradition of Chazal that this phrase refers to monetary compensation. The same expression is used in the Torah to denote payment, as in:
There, the meaning is clearly monetary compensation.
Ibn Ezra explains that the Torah uses such language to indicate that the offender truly deserves to lose the corresponding limb, but instead he pays ransom. The Torah forbids taking ransom for a murderer who is liable for death, but ransom may be taken from one who has injured another’s limb. Therefore:
Ramban supports the interpretation of Chazal with a logical proof. Earlier, the Torah states:
If we were to do to the assailant exactly as he did to the victim, why would he then pay compensation? He himself would require compensation for lost time and medical care. Therefore, the verse must be speaking of monetary payment rather than literal retaliation.
One might argue that the victim would receive the difference between a slow and a fast recovery, but this is not the plain meaning of the verse. The Torah speaks in general terms, and even if the assailant recovered more quickly, the punishment would already have been exacted by doing to him what he did.
According to the literal reading of Scripture, there is no easy resolution to this question unless one distinguishes between two kinds of injuries:
Thus, when the Torah says:
these are included, in the simple reading, in the category of injuries that may heal completely.
When the Torah elsewhere states:
it uses the general term “blemish” (מוּם) to include all injuries, even those that are temporary, because any wound creates a blemish, at least for a time.
We even use the term “temporary blemish,” and the Torah calls certain curable conditions a “blemish,” as in:
The general principle, Ramban concludes, is that the received tradition of the Sages is always correct.
וְגַם בְּעָלָיו יוּמָת
“And its owner also shall be put to death.”
Ramban explains that the Sages received by tradition that this “death” refers to death at the hands of Heaven, not execution by the court. Similar expressions appear in the Torah:
Ramban observes that when the Torah refers to a death sentence carried out by a court, it usually uses the phrase:
not merely “יוּמָת.”
He notes that there are apparent exceptions, such as:
but in those cases, the Torah already specified elsewhere that the punishment is by court execution.
Ramban then discusses the translation of Onkelos, who renders the phrase in a way that suggests execution. Ramban suggests possible explanations:
Thus, Ramban understands the verse as teaching that the owner is liable to death at the hands of Heaven, not by human court.
אִם כֹּפֶר יוּשַׁת עָלָיו
“If a ransom is laid upon him…”
Ramban explains that the ransom functions as atonement, similar to the role of sacrifices.
Because it serves as atonement:
For this reason, the verse says:
אוֹ בֵן יִגָּח אוֹ בַת יִגָּח
“Or if it gore a son, or if it gore a daughter…”
Ramban explains that the word “אוֹ” (“or”) here is an addition to the earlier phrase. The full sense of the verse is:
Some commentators suggest that “אוֹ” here functions like “אִם” (“if”), as in other verses where such usage appears. Ramban rejects these comparisons, stating that the contexts do not support that interpretation.
According to the Sages, the Torah needed to mention children explicitly. Earlier, the verse stated:
which teaches that men and women are equal in all laws of damages. One might have thought that liability applies only when an adult man or woman is killed. Therefore the Torah adds:
to teach that the owner is liable for the death of minors just as for adults.
Ramban also offers a plain-sense explanation:
However:
The Torah therefore states:
וְהַמֵּת יִהְיֶה לוֹ
“And the dead [animal] shall be his.”
Ramban cites Rashi, who explains:
However, Ramban argues that this does not fully explain the verse. There would be no need for the Torah to state this, because even if the damaging party had other items of value—even inferior goods—he could use them for payment, since compensation for damages need not be made in cash.
Rather, the verse teaches:
Therefore:
He pays only the difference between:
For example:
This principle applies to all damages. It is known among the Sages as:
וְלֹא יִשְׁמְרֶנּוּ בְּעָלָיו
“And its owner did not guard it.”
Ramban explains that even in the case of a תָּם (an ox not previously known to gore), if the owner guarded it properly and it escaped by accident and caused damage, he would be exempt.
The verse specifies this phrase regarding a מוּעָד (an ox known to gore) for two possible reasons, depending on the Talmudic opinions:
According to the view that a mu’ad requires stricter guarding:
According to the view that both tam and mu’ad require the same level of guarding:
The verse concludes:
Rashi explains:
Ramban explains that according to this approach, the verse means:
This follows the rabbinic teaching that:
According to the plain meaning, however, the verse could also be read differently:
Meaning:
Yet in either interpretation, the practical law is the same:
Ramban explains that the Torah begins its civil legislation with the laws of the Hebrew servant to establish human dignity as the foundation of the legal system. Even one sold into servitude retains moral status, family integrity, and spiritual worth. The Torah regulates his term of service, protects his rights, and frames the institution in a way that prevents exploitation. From there, the chapter addresses cases of violence, distinguishing between intentional murder, accidental killing, and negligence, and establishing just consequences for each.
The laws of bodily injury and damages reveal, in Ramban’s understanding, the Torah’s concern for both justice and proportionality. Penalties are measured and purposeful, ensuring that responsibility is assigned carefully. Whether dealing with assault, harm caused by animals, or property damage, the Torah’s system emphasizes accountability while preserving the sanctity of life and property. In this way, the laws of the chapter transform social order into a reflection of Divine justice.
אִם זָרְחָה הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ עָלָיו
“If the sun has risen upon him…”
Rashi explains that this phrase is metaphorical. It does not mean that the sun literally rose upon him, but that the situation is as clear as daylight: if it is evident that the thief does not intend to kill, the householder may not kill him.
Onkelos, however, translates the phrase differently:
“If the eye of the witnesses fell upon him,” meaning that witnesses saw the thief.
According to this interpretation, if witnesses encountered the thief before the householder arrived, and when the householder came they warned him not to kill the thief, then:
Ramban questions this explanation. When the Torah earlier said that there is “no bloodguilt” for killing the thief, that must refer to a case where the householder was warned, because no murderer is liable without prior warning. Thus, the first verse completely exempts him, both from Heavenly punishment and from the court.
Perhaps, Ramban suggests, Rashi meant that:
This explains the expression “if the sun has risen upon him”:
Ramban then presents his own understanding of Onkelos:
The Torah speaks in typical circumstances:
The term “sun” thus means:
The reasoning behind the law is simple:
כִּי יִתֵּן אִישׁ אֶל רֵעֵהוּ כֶּסֶף אוֹ כֵלִים לִשְׁמֹר
“If a man delivers to his neighbor money or vessels to keep…”
Ramban explains that this section speaks of an unpaid guardian (שׁוֹמֵר חִנָּם). Therefore:
The Torah mentions the case in general terms because:
In the following section (verses 9–12), the Torah speaks of a paid guardian (שׁוֹמֵר שָׂכָר) and mentions animals:
This reflects normal practice:
וְגֻנַּב מִבֵּית הָאִישׁ
“And it be stolen out of the man’s house…”
Rashi explains that this refers to the guardian’s claim:
Ramban argues that this explanation is unnecessary. The verse is speaking plainly:
If the thief is not found:
Whoever the court determines is the thief must pay double, because:
אִם לֹא שָׁלַח יָדוֹ בִּמְלֶאכֶת רֵעֵהוּ
“Whether he has not put his hand to his neighbor’s goods.”
According to Rashi:
Ramban explains more precisely:
If he did use it:
אֲשֶׁר יֹאמַר כִּי הוּא זֶה
“Whereof one says: ‘This is it.’”
Rashi explains:
The Sages interpret the phrase differently:
Ramban notes that this principle, as stated by Rashi, follows the opinion of certain individual Sages, but is not the accepted halachah regarding guardians.
In practice:
However, in a different situation—where the guardian denies the entire deposit and claims:
Then:
Accordingly, Ramban explains the verse as referring to such a case:
If the court determines that he is the thief:
Thus:
The rule of partial admission applies broadly to all monetary claims:
Ramban concludes:
אִם טָרֹף יִטָּרֵף
“If it be torn in pieces…”
Rashi explains:
Ramban questions this explanation. Earlier in the same section, regarding a paid guardian, the Torah stated:
The law there applies equally to all cases:
In all these situations:
So why does the Torah here specifically mention the need for witnesses in the case of a torn animal?
Ramban offers one explanation:
But when a lion or bear attacks:
Therefore the Torah says:
Ramban offers a second explanation based on the opinion of Isi ben Yehudah:
Thus:
Since attacks by wild animals often occur in the presence of other shepherds:
Ibn Ezra explains the phrase differently:
Ramban notes that this interpretation also appears in the Mechilta of Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai, which teaches:
וְכִי יְפַתֶּה אִישׁ
“And if a man seduces…”
Rashi explains that the term “יפתה” means speaking to the girl’s emotions until she submits to him, and that the phrase “מהֹר ימהרנה לו לאשה” means he assigns her a marriage portion, writes her a ketubah, and marries her.
Ramban disagrees with this interpretation. He explains that the word “פיתוי” does not merely mean speaking gently or emotionally, but rather:
This usage appears in several verses, such as:
Because of this, people whose minds are easily swayed and misled are called:
Thus, one who seduces a virgin:
Onkelos translates the word “יפתה” as:
This term refers to:
Ramban explains that such effort is called:
Seduction can take many forms:
Because the methods vary, Onkelos uses a general term meaning “to endeavor” or “to maneuver” the situation until she agrees.
Rashi explains that this refers to assigning her a marriage portion and writing a ketubah. Ramban rejects this as incorrect.
He explains:
Rather, the word “מוהר” refers to:
These are called:
The term may derive from the idea of haste, since:
Thus, “מהֹר ימהרנה לו לאשה” means:
The wording of the verse implies:
If he does not wish to marry her:
If the father refuses to give her to him:
The reason for this penalty is:
The Sages teach that:
However, the Torah distinguishes between the two cases:
In the case of rape:
This is because:
In the case of seduction:
If he does marry her with the consent of both her and her father:
Ramban explains that this law applies only to:
The Torah did not need to mention this explicitly here because:
The verse’s reference to the father’s refusal implies:
מְכַשֵּׁפָה לֹא תְחַיֶּה
“You shall not suffer a sorceress to live.”
Ramban explains that in most cases of capital punishment, the Torah uses the expression:
This indicates:
Here, however, the Torah does not say:
but instead:
This is a stricter formulation:
Ramban explains the reason:
Because of its harmful influence on many people, the Torah is more stringent and expresses the law as a prohibition. Ramban notes that similar severity appears regarding others who cause widespread corruption, such as:
זֹבֵחַ לָאֱלֹהִים יָחֳרָם
“He who sacrifices to other gods shall be utterly destroyed.”
Rashi explains:
Ibn Ezra suggests that, according to the plain meaning, this verse is directed not to Israel, who were already warned against idolatry in the second commandment, but to the “stranger” mentioned in the following verse. The idea would be that he may dwell in the land only on condition that he not sacrifice to his gods.
Ramban rejects this explanation sharply. He explains:
Therefore:
The term is used because:
Ramban adds that the verse may also imply:
The verse mentions sacrificing, but the same law applies to:
However:
Ramban then explains that the term “אֱלֹהִים” here may refer to angels:
Therefore the verse emphasizes:
This also hints at a deep mystical understanding of sacrifices, which Ramban alludes to but does not explain here.
וְגֵר לֹא תוֹנֶה וְלֹא תִלְחָצֶנּוּ
“You shall not wrong a stranger, nor oppress him.”
The verse continues:
Rashi explains:
Ibn Ezra explains:
Ramban, however, says that neither explanation provides a true reason for the commandment.
He explains the verse differently:
Hashem declares:
Therefore:
In another verse the Torah adds:
Meaning:
Hashem will therefore have mercy on him, just as He had mercy on Israel in Egypt:
כָּל אַלְמָנָה וְיָתוֹם לֹא תְעַנּוּן
“You shall not afflict any widow or orphan.”
Ramban explains that this includes:
The reason is:
The verse says:
Therefore, the punishment is measure for measure:
This punishment is not counted among those who die by the hand of Heaven in the usual sense. In other cases, such punishment refers to direct death from Heaven.
Here, however, the meaning is different:
As a result:
אִם עַנֵּה תְעַנֶּה אֹתוֹ
“If you afflict him at all…”
Rashi explains that this is an abbreviated verse, which threatens punishment without specifying it. The meaning, according to him, is:
Ramban rejects this interpretation. He says that the verse does not contain such a large omission, and the prooftext Rashi cites does not support that idea.
Ramban suggests that the word “כִּי” in the phrase:
may mean “if,” as it sometimes does. The verse would then read:
The repetition emphasizes the seriousness of the matter.
Ramban’s preferred explanation is:
He needs nothing else:
Because:
Other people must seek helpers and defenders, and perhaps they will not succeed. But the orphan or widow is saved simply by crying out to Hashem, who will avenge him.
Ramban compares this idea to several verses:
Thus, the verse teaches:
לֹא תִהְיֶה לוֹ כְּנֹשֶׁה
“You shall not be to him as a creditor.”
Ramban explains:
Rather:
The loan should be:
כִּי חַנּוּן אָנִי
“For I am gracious.”
Ramban explains that the word “חַנּוּן” (gracious) derives from:
Hashem accepts the prayers of anyone who cries out to Him, even if he is unworthy.
Therefore:
The verse teaches:
אֱלֹהִים לֹא תְקַלֵּל
“You shall not curse elohim.”
Onkelos translates “elohim” here as:
Thus, the verse teaches:
The verse continues:
Ramban explains:
According to the Sages:
Ramban adds:
Thus the verse warns:
מְלֵאָתְךָ וְדִמְעֲךָ
“The fullness of your harvest and the outflow of your presses…”
Ramban explains:
“דִמְעָה” (“outflow,” literally “tear”) refers to:
The verse teaches:
Instead:
According to the Sages:
They therefore established the order:
The Torah here mentions these commandments only in general terms. Their full details are explained elsewhere.
וְאַנְשֵׁי קֹדֶשׁ תִּהְיוּן לִי
“And you shall be holy men unto Me.”
Ramban explains:
Therefore it introduces the section with:
This teaches:
Forbidden foods:
Permitted foods:
Thus the verse means:
Therefore:
As it says elsewhere:
Creeping creatures:
Treifah (torn meat):
In this chapter, Ramban highlights the Torah’s concern for ethical responsibility in matters of property, trust, and social relations. The laws governing theft, guardianship, loans, and damages establish a framework of accountability that preserves social trust. A person is held responsible not only for direct wrongdoing, but also for negligence, misuse of entrusted property, or exploitation of another’s vulnerability.
At the same time, the chapter turns repeatedly to the protection of the weak: the stranger, widow, orphan, and poor borrower. Ramban emphasizes that these individuals rely directly on Hashem, and their cries reach Him without mediation. The Torah therefore warns strongly against oppressing them, promising swift Divine justice. The prohibition of sorcery and idolatry in this chapter also reflects the Torah’s concern for spiritual and moral purity, removing influences that corrupt society at its root.
תִּשְׁמְטֶנָּה וּנְטַשְׁתָּהּ
“But the seventh year you shall let it rest and lie fallow.”
Rashi explains:
Another interpretation:
Ramban rejects this explanation. According to the Torah itself:
This was the conclusion reached by the Sages at the beginning of tractate Moed Katan:
Likewise, the law of removing produce at the proper time (“bi’ur”) is not derived from this verse.
Ibn Ezra explains:
Ramban rejects this as well. Instead, he explains that the verse continues the earlier statement:
Thus:
Rather:
This is similar to the verse:
לְמַעַן יָנוּחַ שׁוֹרְךָ וַחֲמֹרֶךָ
“That your ox and your donkey may rest.”
Ramban explains that the word “לְמַעַן” means:
Thus the verse should be understood:
The purpose is:
The verse parallels the command:
וּבְכֹל אֲשֶׁר אָמַרְתִּי אֲלֵיכֶם תִּשָּׁמֵרוּ
“And in all things that I have said to you, take heed.”
Rashi explains:
Ramban objects:
Moreover, the Sages taught:
Thus, according to Ramban:
He notes that in the Mechilta, the Sages interpret this verse in various ways.
According to the plain meaning:
Thus, the meaning is:
This includes:
For example:
Even without calling them gods:
Alternatively:
It is also possible that:
And:
This is as stated in the book of Yehoshua:
וְחַג הַקָּצִיר בִּכּוּרֵי מַעֲשֶׂיךָ
“And the Feast of Harvest, the first-fruits of your labors…”
Ramban asks:
It would have been more natural to say:
Ramban suggests:
Now it refers back and clarifies:
All three festivals are tied to agricultural cycles:
Thus the verse says:
He is called:
When they take their portion from Him:
According to the deeper, mystical interpretation:
לֹא תִזְבַּח עַל חָמֵץ דַּם זִבְחִי
“You shall not offer the blood of My sacrifice with leavened bread.”
Rashi explains:
Ramban clarifies that Rashi should not be understood to mean:
According to the halachic conclusion:
Rather, the meaning of the verse is:
Thus:
Ramban notes that the verse could have said:
since:
However, the Sages interpret the verse to include:
Thus the verse implies:
It is therefore an abbreviated or elliptical verse.
הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי שֹׁלֵחַ מַלְאָךְ לְפָנֶיךָ
“Behold, I send an angel before you…”
Rashi explains:
He also cites the teaching of the Sages:
Ramban raises a difficulty:
The Sages also taught:
Ramban answers:
But after Moshe’s death:
The Midrash teaches:
Thus:
Ramban then presents the mystical interpretation:
This is the angel referenced by the Patriarchs:
This angel:
Thus the verse means:
This “place” refers to:
The command:
means:
Onkelos hints to this idea by translating:
Ramban concludes:
Thus:
When this angel dwells among Israel:
But after the sin of the Golden Calf:
כִּי לֹא יִשָּׂא לְפִשְׁעֲכֶם כִּי שְׁמִי בְּקִרְבּוֹ
“For he will not pardon your transgression, for My Name is in him.”
Ramban explains:
Therefore:
Ramban suggests another possible reading:
לֹא תִשְׁתַּחֲוֶה לֵאלֹהֵיהֶם וְלֹא תָעָבְדֵם
“You shall not bow down to their gods, nor serve them.”
Ramban explains:
The Sages taught:
Therefore the Torah warns again and again:
Ramban suggests:
The verse continues:
וְלֹא תַעֲשֶׂה כְּמַעֲשֵׂיהֶם
“Nor do after their deeds.”
This may refer to:
More likely, Ramban says:
For example:
Even if a person intends the act as mockery:
וַעֲבַדְתֶּם אֵת ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם
“And you shall serve Hashem your G-d…”
Ramban explains:
Some believe:
Therefore the verse teaches:
Thus:
The verse continues:
Meaning:
As a result:
The promise also includes:
And:
Ramban notes:
The verse continues with the fate of Israel’s enemies:
Ramban explains:
Its effect:
Thus:
Ramban explains:
He adds:
This is reflected in the book of Yehoshua:
Some explained the “hornet” as a disease,
but Ramban rejects that interpretation.
לֹא תִכְרֹת לָהֶם וְלֵאלֹהֵיהֶם בְּרִית
“You shall make no covenant with them, nor with their gods.”
Ramban explains:
Likewise:
Another possible meaning:
כִּי תַעֲבֹד אֶת אֱלֹהֵיהֶם כִּי יִהְיֶה לְךָ לְמוֹקֵשׁ
“For you will serve their gods, for they will be a snare to you.”
Ramban rejects Rashi’s grammatical interpretation of the word “כִּי.”
Instead, he explains the verse as follows:
This parallels another verse:
The meaning is:
Ramban explains that this chapter continues the legal and ethical structure of the covenant, beginning with laws that safeguard justice in the courts. The Torah warns against false testimony, bribery, and partiality, insisting that truth and righteousness must guide every legal decision. Even an enemy’s lost animal must be returned, demonstrating that compassion and responsibility extend beyond personal loyalties.
The chapter then turns to the sanctity of time and land, with the commandments of the Sabbatical year and Shabbat. These laws, according to Ramban, serve as testimony to creation and to Hashem’s mastery over nature. The festivals are likewise tied to the agricultural cycles, teaching gratitude to the One who sustains the world. The chapter concludes with promises of Divine protection in the Land, accompanied by stern warnings against idolatry and assimilation, for the spiritual environment of the land must remain pure for Israel to dwell there securely.
וְאֶל מֹשֶׁה אָמַר
“And unto Moses He said…”
Rashi explains:
Ramban objects strongly to this approach.
He notes:
Therefore:
Ramban praises Ibn Ezra’s explanation, which keeps the verses in their proper order:
After all this, Hashem told Moshe:
Moshe then:
The people accepted everything with joy and said:
This means:
On that day:
The next morning:
He then:
He then:
After completing the covenant:
Thus:
Ramban notes that the Sages debated this matter:
Ramban concludes:
Ramban also explains the wording:
This phrasing indicates:
The meaning is:
Accordingly:
Ramban then explains the phrase:
On the simple level:
But the Talmud asks:
The Sages therefore say:
Ramban explains:
He adds:
וְנִגַּשׁ מֹשֶׁה לְבַדּוֹ אֶל ה׳
“And Moshe alone shall come near to Hashem.”
Ibn Ezra explains:
But this is common biblical style.
Ramban offers a different explanation:
Thus:
וַיָּבֹא מֹשֶׁה וַיְסַפֵּר לָעָם
“And Moshe came and told the people…”
Ramban explains:
Now:
He told them:
The verse does not say:
When Moshe approached:
They thought:
Moshe then:
They responded:
After this:
At that time:
He told Moshe:
He then instructed:
This is the meaning of:
Meaning:
וַיִּשְׁלַח אֶת נַעֲרֵי בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל
“And he sent the young men of the children of Israel…”
Ramban explains:
He asks:
He suggests:
According to the plain meaning:
Ramban explains why the offerings were oxen:
Therefore:
וַיָּשֶׂם בָּאַגָּנֹת
“And he placed it in basins…”
Ramban explains:
Ibn Ezra explains differently:
Onkelos also supports this view:
וַיִּרְאוּ אֵת אֱלֹהֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל
“And they saw the G-d of Israel…”
Ibn Ezra explains:
The vision included:
Ramban explains the plain meaning:
On a deeper, mystical level:
Onkelos hints to this:
וְאֶל אֲצִילֵי בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל
“And upon the nobles of the children of Israel…”
Ramban explains:
They are called “atzilim” (nobles):
The verse says:
This means:
Thus:
The verse continues:
וַיֹּאכְלוּ וַיִּשְׁתּוּ
“And they ate and drank.”
Ramban explains:
Peace-offerings must be eaten:
The phrase “and they drank” means:
It is proper:
Ramban cites examples:
So too here:
עֲלֵה אֵלַי הָהָרָה
“Come up to Me into the mountain…”
Ramban explains:
He will stay there:
The phrase:
Meaning:
Ramban rejects Ibn Ezra’s explanation:
He adds:
וַיָּקָם מֹשֶׁה וִיהוֹשֻׁעַ מְשָׁרְתוֹ
“And Moshe arose, and Yehoshua his minister…”
Rashi explains:
This is shown later:
Ramban offers his own explanation:
Even though the elders were later punished:
שְׁבוּ לָנוּ בָזֶה
“Tarry here for us…”
Ramban explains:
It does not mean:
For he said:
Therefore:
Ramban offers another explanation:
Thus:
Moshe said:
Ramban rejects Rashi’s explanation:
Ramban views the events of this chapter as the formal sealing of the covenant between Hashem and Israel immediately after the giving of the Torah. Moshe conveys the Divine laws to the people, and they respond with a unified declaration of commitment. The covenant is then ratified through sacrifices and the sprinkling of blood, symbolizing the shared bond between the Divine and the nation.
The ascent of Moshe, Aharon, Nadav, Avihu, and the elders marks a moment of elevated spiritual vision, as they behold a manifestation of the Divine glory and celebrate in joy. Ramban interprets their eating and drinking as a sacred celebration of the covenant, like a wedding feast marking the union between Hashem and His people. The chapter concludes with Moshe’s ascent into the cloud to receive the tablets, signaling the transition from the initial revelation to the ongoing transmission of Torah through Moshe to Israel.
Ramban’s commentary on Parshas Mishpatim presents the parsha as the practical unfolding of the covenant of Sinai. The revelation of the Ten Commandments is translated into a comprehensive legal and moral system that governs relationships between people, protects the vulnerable, and preserves the purity of Israel’s faith. Civil law, ritual observance, and spiritual warnings are woven together into a unified vision of a holy society.
For Ramban, these laws are not merely social regulations, but expressions of Divine will that refine the soul and shape the nation’s character. Justice in the courts, compassion toward the weak, sanctification of time, and rejection of idolatry all flow from the same covenantal foundation. The parsha culminates in the formal sealing of the covenant, reminding Israel that their legal system is not a human contract, but a sacred bond with Hashem, rooted in revelation and sustained through faithful observance.
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Sforno approaches Parshas Mishpatim as the natural continuation of the revelation at Sinai, translating the lofty ideals of the Aseres HaDibros into the structure of a just and holy society. For Sforno, the mishpatim are not merely technical legal codes, but the practical expression of spiritual truth: the inner prohibition of coveting becomes the outer discipline of fair dealings, humane treatment, and measured justice. Through these laws, the covenant is embodied in daily life—shaping courts, property, labor, compassion for the vulnerable, reverence for authority, and the sanctification of time and land. The parsha thus reveals that holiness is achieved not only in moments of revelation, but in the moral order created through Torah law.
Sforno explains that this section follows directly from the prohibition of coveting: “לֹא תַחְמוֹד כָּל אֲשֶׁר לְרֵעֶךָ” (שמות כ:יד). That commandment addressed the inner desire for another person’s possessions without involving action. By contrast, the mishpatim now describe the concrete realities of “אֲשֶׁר לְרֵעֶךָ” — the actual, tangible matters belonging to one’s fellow.
“אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם” indicates that these are not universal commands of “עשה” or “לא תעשה” that apply constantly to every person. Rather, they are judicial laws that apply only when relevant situations arise. These matters must be judged properly when circumstances call for legal adjudication.
Sforno explains that it is not fitting for an upright person to purchase a Jewish girl as a servant against her will. Such a sale is only appropriate if the intention is that she will later become the wife of the purchaser or his son once she reaches maturity.
The money paid for her will function as kiddushin funds given to her father, who is entitled to them, as established by Chazal (כתובות מו:).
Even though the normal arrangement anticipates marriage, if she proves unsuitable in his eyes, he is not required to marry her, since forced marriage could lead to hatred. Instead, the father and the master must cooperate to redeem her and free her from the arrangement.
“לְעַם נָכְרִי לֹא יִמְשֹׁל לְמׇכְרָהּ בְּבִגְדוֹ בָהּ”
Sforno explains that the father had already “betrayed” his daughter by selling her initially. This is similar to the complaint of Lavan’s daughters: “הֲלוֹא נׇכְרִיּוֹת נֶחְשַׁבְנוּ לוֹ כִּי מְכָרָנוּ” (בראשית לא:טו).
The Torah describes the disgraceful impression created when a Jewish father sells his daughter for a purpose other than marriage. Therefore, once a man has behaved in this improper way, no other Jewish father may sell his daughter to him. Here, “נכרי” refers not to a non-Jew, but to a Jew who behaves contrary to Jewish norms.
If the master’s son marries her, he must treat her according to the standard obligations owed to a wife: שְׁאֵר, כְּסוּת, וְעוֹנָה. He must provide these necessities even though he did not personally purchase or betroth her; his father had done so.
One is not permitted to marry multiple wives unless he can provide for them fully without diminishing the needs of the first wife. This principle is taught by Chazal (יבמות סה:).
This refers to a killing that was not intentional. Sforno explains the principle: “מְגַלְגְּלִין חוֹבָה עַל יְדֵי חַיָּב” — guilt is brought about through one who is himself guilty. This reflects the teaching: “וְגַם רָשָׁע לְיוֹם רָעָה” (משלי טז:ד).
“וְשַׂמְתִּי לְךָ מָקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יָנוּס”
The place of refuge serves to atone for his wrongdoing through exile.
Even before the formal establishment of cities of refuge, the entire camp of the Levi’im in the wilderness functioned as a place of refuge, not only the altar itself.
“תִּקָּחֶנּוּ לָמוּת”
The murderer must still be taken to death, as the prophet says: “הַמְעָרַת פָּרִצִים הָיָה הַבַּיִת הַזֶּה” (ירמיהו ז:יא). The sanctuary cannot serve as protection for deliberate criminals.
If a master kills his slave with a cruel blow, vengeance must be exacted for the slave’s blood. Although the master is permitted to discipline the slave physically for correction, as implied in “בִּדְבָרִים לֹא יִוָּסֶר עָבֶד” (משלי כט:יט), he is not permitted to administer such a brutal strike.
Since the slave is his property, the master has the responsibility to discipline him. Sometimes a slave’s rebellion escalates until the master administers a severe blow. This reflects the idea: “אַךְ מְרִי יְבַקֶּשׁ רָע” (משלי יז:יא).
In strict justice, the punishment should literally correspond to the injury — measure for measure. However, the received tradition teaches that monetary compensation is paid instead (בבא קמא פג:).
This is because human judgment cannot accurately measure the precise equivalent of physical injury. A literal application might lead to excessive punishment beyond the proper measure.
This refers to punishment by Heaven. If there are no witnesses to impose financial atonement in court, the owner is nevertheless liable to heavenly judgment.
If witnesses testify in a manner that allows the court to impose compensation, the judges can obligate the owner to pay the kofer as a form of atonement.
The thirty shekels correspond to the Torah’s valuation of a woman in her prime. This comparison reflects the status of the slave regarding mitzvah obligations, since both Jewish women and non-Jewish male slaves share certain mitzvah responsibilities, as discussed in Chagigah.
Sforno presents the opening chapter as the Torah’s translation of the command not to covet into concrete legal realities. The laws of servitude, marriage, injury, and property define how one must treat another’s body, dignity, and possessions with restraint and responsibility. Even where harsh circumstances exist—such as servitude or physical harm—the Torah imposes limits, compassion, and accountability. Justice must be measured and precise, recognizing intention, circumstance, and the limits of human judgment. Through these laws, the Torah establishes a social order in which power is restrained, dignity is preserved, and wrongdoing is addressed through balanced justice rather than cruelty or excess.
Sforno explains that if the Torah had not legislated that a thief may be sold to repay his theft, most poor people would become thieves. Knowing they had no assets to pay restitution, they would feel no obligation to return stolen goods, and society would deteriorate into lawlessness and violence. This law preserves social order and prevents widespread anarchy.
“כִּי יַבְעֶר אִישׁ שָׂדֶה אוֹ כֶרֶם” refers initially to a person acting within his own property.
“וּבִעֵר בִּשְׂדֵה אַחֵר” teaches that even if his animal wandered off on its own into another’s field, the owner remains liable.
“מֵיטַב שָׂדֵהוּ וּמֵיטַב כַּרְמוֹ יְשַׁלֵּם”
The restitution must come from the best of his field or vineyard. This reflects the halachic principle that damage caused by an animal’s tooth or foot is considered expected behavior in the injured party’s domain (בבא קמא ב:). Since such occurrences are common, the Torah requires payment from the best quality produce, even if this appears more valuable than the actual damage.
These are typical items entrusted to a neighbor for safekeeping, usually without payment. Such arrangements are generally reciprocal, where people guard one another’s property as a favor.
If the trustee did not misuse the entrusted object, he is not liable. However, if he did make improper use of it, he becomes responsible even for accidents that occur afterward.
This refers to a case where the defendant admits part of the claim while denying the rest — known in the Talmud as “מוֹדֶה בְּמִקְצָת.”
“עַד הָאֱלֹהִים יָבֹא דְּבַר שְׁנֵיהֶם”
Both parties must come before the judges to take an oath, whether the case concerns a loan or an item entrusted for safekeeping, when there is a partial admission.
“אֲשֶׁר יַרְשִׁיעֻן אֱלֹהִים יְשַׁלֵּם שְׁנַיִם”
If the judges convict someone of falsely claiming that property was stolen, he must pay double. Such a false claim is treated as theft itself.
These animals were typically entrusted to poorer people for safekeeping in exchange for payment.
Whenever the Torah uses the term “עֵד” in the singular, it implies two witnesses (סוטה ב:).
“If it was torn apart” — this refers to an attack by a wild animal. Presumably, such an event would have witnesses, since other shepherds would be nearby.
The witnesses must testify that the animal was lost through an unavoidable accident.
“לֹא יְשַׁלֵּם”
In such a case, the shepherd is exempt from payment.
However, if the animal was eaten due to negligence, he must pay. As Chazal explain (בבא מציעא צג:), a single wolf or dog is not considered an unavoidable attack; a shepherd is expected to defend against such threats. Smaller animals certainly do not constitute an unavoidable danger.
If the owner was present with the borrowed animal during the work for which it was borrowed, the borrower is exempt from liability.
Sforno explains that a loan in such circumstances resembles a gift given with the understanding that it will be returned. In such a case, the owner does not stipulate detailed conditions. If he had done so, the arrangement would no longer be a loan but a different type of transaction.
Since the owner’s presence indicates he never relinquished ownership, he is not entitled to compensation if the animal is lost. One does not receive payment for losing what still belongs to him.
Therefore, the tradition teaches that any guardian is exempt when the owner is present, even in cases of negligence.
This refers to one who sacrifices to all deities together, even if he intends also to include Hashem among them. Such worship is forbidden.
“יָחֳרָם”
The offender is executed, and the offering itself is forbidden for any benefit. Just as false gods are to be completely rejected, so too those who serve them, as in “וְהָיִיתָ חֵרֶם כָּמֹהוּ” (דברים ז:כו).
“לַה׳ לְבַדּוֹ”
Service must be directed exclusively to Hashem, without any partnership with other powers.
If one oppresses an orphan solely for the purpose of afflicting him, it is forbidden.
However, if one’s “affliction” is intended as discipline in order to improve him and ultimately benefit him, such rebuke is considered an act of kindness. Sforno understands the following verse (“אִם עַנֵּה תְעַנֶּה”) as introducing this moderating qualification.
22:23 — “וְחָרָה אַפִּי”
Sforno explains that Hashem promises to show mercy to the one who cries out and anger toward the one who oppresses. This mirrors what happened to Yisrael in Mitzrayim: Hashem responded to their suffering and punished their oppressors.
The punishment will follow the principle of measure for measure. One who willingly afflicts a widow or orphan will, against his own will, bring suffering upon his own wife and children.
Sforno explains that this refers to a situation in which the ideal promise — “אֶפֶס כִּי לֹא יִהְיֶה בְּךָ אֶבְיוֹן” (דברים טו:ד), that there will be no destitute among Yisrael — has not been fulfilled.
Instead, the alternative reality described in the Torah comes to pass: “כִּי לֹא יֶחְדַּל אֶבְיוֹן” (דברים טו:יא), that poverty will never fully disappear. In such circumstances, the poor person will require a loan.
Even though the debtor cannot cry out against the creditor as a wrongdoer — since he legitimately owes the money — he may still cry out to Hashem about his poverty, especially if his garment has been taken as collateral and he is left exposed.
Hashem will then give him part of what He had intended to grant the creditor. If the creditor was given wealth beyond his needs, it was so that he could support others.
“כִּי חַנּוּן אָנִי”
Hashem shows compassion to anyone who has no one else to turn to. Therefore, it is in the creditor’s own interest to act compassionately and return the pledge when needed. By doing so, he ensures that Hashem’s favor will remain with him, enabling him to continue supporting others.
Even if a person believes a judge has ruled unfairly, he must not curse him. The reason is that no one can judge his own guilt or innocence objectively.
“וְנָשִׂיא בְעַמְּךָ לֹא תָאֹר”
Cursing the legitimate authority of the nation can bring widespread harm to the public. As Shlomo says: “יְרָא אֶת ה' בְּנִי וָמֶלֶךְ, וְעִם שׁוֹנִים אַל תִּתְעָרָב” (משלי כד:כא).
This refers to the terumah taken from grain. The term “מלאה” is similar to the phrase “מְלֵאוֹת וְטֹבוֹת” describing the full, good ears of grain in Pharaoh’s dream (בראשית מא:כב).
“וְדִמְעֲךָ”
This refers to the terumah from wine and oil, the liquids that “flow” from the produce.
Sforno on Parshas Mishpatim Exo…
“בְּכוֹר בָּנֶיךָ תִּתֶּן לִי”
The firstborn are dedicated to sacred service — including service in the Mikdash and the teaching of Torah. Later, this role was fulfilled primarily by the kohanim, as it says: “כִּי שִׂפְתֵי כֹהֵן יִשְׁמְרוּ דַעַת, וְתוֹרָה יְבַקְשׁוּ מִפִּיהוּ” (מלאכי ב:ז).
The firstborn of animals must also be given to Hashem once it is clear that the animal is viable and not a stillbirth.
Chazal taught: “כָּל שֶׁשָּׁהָא שְׁלֹשִׁים יוֹם בְּאָדָם אֵינוֹ נֵפֶל… שְׁמוֹנָה יָמִים בִּבְהֵמָה אֵינוֹ נֵפֶל” (שבת קלה).
This is how Yisrael becomes a people of holiness: by dedicating their firstborn sons and the required gifts to Hashem’s service. Initially, the firstborn were meant to teach Torah and guide the people in the laws of service.
Through this structure, the people sanctify themselves and fulfill: “וְהִתְקַדִּשְׁתֶּם וִהְיִיתֶם קְדֹשִׁים” (ויקרא כ:ז).
Sforno on Parshas Mishpatim Exo…
“וּבָשָׂר בַּשָּׂדֶה טְרֵפָה”
Even a treifah that does not transmit ritual impurity is still forbidden for consumption. If such meat is prohibited, then certainly an animal that died without proper slaughter (נבלה) is forbidden as well.
In this chapter, Sforno emphasizes the preservation of social trust and compassion within economic and interpersonal life. Laws of theft, damages, guardianship, loans, and pledges create a system in which property is protected and responsibility is clearly defined. At the same time, the Torah demands mercy toward the poor, the orphan, and the widow, reminding society that wealth is entrusted by Hashem for the sake of supporting others. The chapter balances strict accountability with moral sensitivity, teaching that justice must coexist with compassion. Through these principles, society avoids both anarchy and cruelty, building a community grounded in responsibility and kindness.
Sforno explains that this prohibits signing a document together with a wicked person. Chazal taught that the people of Yerushalayim would not sign a document unless they knew the integrity of the co-signers (סנהדרין כג.).
“לִהְיוֹת עֵד חָמָס”
If one signs with a wicked person, he may end up being the sole valid witness, since the wicked person’s testimony is invalid. The judge could then confiscate money based on a document supported only by one valid signature, which is not acceptable under halachah.
This refers to capital cases. One may not cast the deciding vote to convict when doing so would create only a majority of one. A death sentence cannot be based on the equivalent of a single judge’s ruling.
“וְלֹא תַעֲנֶה עַל רִב”
When fellow judges ask for your opinion, you must not answer merely that the majority’s view should be followed.
“לִנְטוֹת אַחֲרֵי רַבִּים”
If ten judges declare the defendant innocent and eleven declare him guilty, you may not simply join the majority to create a majority of two. You must state your own reasoning and conviction. Only when there is a majority of two for guilt may a capital conviction be imposed.
This prohibits treating litigants differently based on status. A judge must not be gentle with one and harsh with another. Even small differences—such as one litigant sitting while the other stands—constitute improper discrimination.
The judge must distance himself from anything that could lead to falsehood or even the appearance of corruption. Chazal warned: “הֱוֵי זָהִיר בִּדְבָרֶיךָ, שֶׁמָּא מִתּוֹכָם יִלְמְדוּ לְשַׁקֵּר” (אבות א:ט) — a judge must guard his words so that liars cannot exploit them.
This refers to the release of debts at the end of the Shemittah year: “וְזֶה דְּבַר הַשְּׁמִטָּה, שָׁמוֹט כָּל בַּעַל מַשֵּׁה יָדוֹ” (דברים טו:ב).
“וּנְטַשְׁתָּהּ וְאָכְלוּ אֶבְיֹנֵי עַמֶּךָ”
During the agricultural Shemittah, the poor may eat from the produce of the land.
“וְיִתְרָם… תֹּאכַל חַיַּת הַשָּׂדֶה”
After the poor have taken what they need, the remainder is left for the animals. The poor have priority, as Chazal taught that one may not feed animals food fit for human consumption (תענית כ).
One must refrain even from activities that are not technically classified as melachah, but that resemble weekday exertion. This follows the teaching: “וְכִבַּדְתּוֹ מֵעֲשׂוֹת דְּרָכֶיךָ, מִמְּצוֹא חֶפְצְךָ וְדַבֵּר דָּבָר” (ישעיהו נח:יג), as explained in Shabbos 113.
“לְמַעַן יָנוּחַ שׁוֹרְךָ וַחֲמֹרֶךָ”
Through your rest, your animals will also rest.
“וְיִנָּפֵשׁ בֶּן אֲמָתְךָ וְהַגֵּר”
Your servants and the stranger will gain respite as well, unlike the experience in Mitzrayim where the Jews had no rest: “תִּכְבַּד הָעֲבֹדָה עַל הָאֲנָשִׁים” (שמות ה:ט).
This reflects the national dimension of Shabbos emphasized in “וְזָכַרְתָּ כִּי עֶבֶד הָיִיתָ” (דברים ה:יד), in contrast to the universal dimension stressed in the Aseres HaDibros in Shemos.
The people must guard themselves not only from violating the commandments, but also from situations that might lead to violation. The clearest example is avodah zarah: not only must one not worship idols, but one must not even mention their names.
“לֹא יִשָּׁמַע עַל פִּיךָ”
One must not even cause others to mention such names with his approval.
The festivals are to be celebrated in joy before Hashem, as in “יִשְׂמַח יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּעֹשָׂיו” (תהלים קמט:ב). This holy joy stands in contrast to the sinful rejoicing at the Golden Calf, described as “וַיַּרְא אֶת הָעֵגֶל וּמְחֹלֹת” (שמות לב:יט).
The word “תשמור” is similar to “שָׁמוֹר אֶת חֹדֶשׁ הָאָבִיב” (דברים טז:א). It hints that the authorities must ensure that Pesach occurs in the spring season.
This may require adjusting the calendar, either by adding extra days to months or, in more extreme cases, inserting an additional month of Adar.
Sforno explains that this refers to the time after all the produce of the year has been gathered in.
The three annual pilgrimages are occasions to give thanks to Hashem for freedom and for the agricultural cycles of spring, harvest, and ingathering. All success ultimately comes from Him.
“אֶל פְּנֵי הָאָדוֹן”
The name “אדון” emphasizes Hashem as Master over all that is transient and earthly. When people appear before Him, they stand as servants before their Master. He is also the Master of the land itself, as it says: “כִּי לִי הָאָרֶץ כִּי גֵרִים וְתוֹשָׁבִים אַתֶּם עִמָּדִי” (ויקרא כה:כג).
Therefore, it is fitting to express gratitude before Him during these three seasons. This is connected to “רֵאשִׁית בִּכּוּרֵי אַדְמָתְךָ,” the choicest of one’s produce, as the term “ראשית” often means the finest quality, as in עמוס ו:ו and עמוס ו:א. The mitzvah of bikkurim applies to the seven species listed by Chazal.
This refers to the finest of the first fruits, as indicated by the usage of “ראשית” to denote the choicest items (עמוס ו:ו). These first fruits come from the seven species, as established by tradition.
“לֹא תְבַשֵּׁל גְּדִי בַּחֲלֵב אִמּוֹ”
Sforno explains that this prohibition rejects pagan agricultural rituals. Idolaters believed such practices would increase the fertility of the land. The Torah instead teaches that true blessing comes from offering the choicest first fruits to Hashem, as in יחזקאל מד:ל: giving the best to Hashem brings blessing upon the home.
This refers to the angel sent before the people. They must be careful not to diminish his honor, similar to the instruction given to Yehoshua: “שַׁל נְעָלְךָ מֵעַל רַגְלֶךָ” (יהושע ה:טו).
“וּשְׁמַע בְּקֹלוֹ”
They must follow his guidance, the opposite of the behavior described in “אָנָה אֲנַחְנוּ עֹלִים” (דברים א:כח), when the people followed the discouraging report of the spies.
“אַל תַּמֵּר בּוֹ כִּי לֹא יִשָּׂא לְפִשְׁעֲכֶם”
If even one individual sins, the punishment may affect the entire nation, as happened with Achan, whose sin caused Israel’s defeat at Ai (יהושע כב:כ).
“כִּי שְׁמִי בְּקִרְבּוֹ”
The angel carries Hashem’s Name, and therefore cannot overlook offenses against the Divine honor.
If the people obey the angel, Hashem will treat their enemies as His own enemies. Instead of merely protecting them, He will actively oppose their foes. This stands in contrast to His compassion for Nineveh, as expressed in יונה ד:יא.
The angel who leads them will not overlook the sins of their enemies. As an angel, he will not show special favor or tolerate wrongdoing; his justice will be exacting.
They must not imitate King Amatziah, who, after conquering Se’ir, brought back the defeated nation’s idols and worshipped them (דברי הימים ב כה:יד), perhaps thinking to appease them.
Serving Hashem properly includes destroying idolatry and its symbols. Once such influences are removed, there will be no one to entice the people toward foreign worship.
“וּבֵרַךְ אֶת לַחְמְךָ”
Their food will be blessed, becoming nourishing rather than the source of illness.
“וַהֲסִרֹתִי מַחֲלָה מִקִּרְבֶּךָ”
Hashem will remove diseases caused by environmental or climatic conditions.
There will be no miscarriages or infertility, so that parents may teach their children.
“אֶת מִסְפַּר יָמֶיךָ אֲמַלֵּא”
People will live out their full lifespan, sustained by the natural “oil” of life within them. Usually, death comes early due to disease or external causes. When a person lives out his full term, he will merit to see his children and grandchildren and pass on his legacy, as in “וְהוֹדַעְתָּם לְבָנֶיךָ וְלִבְנֵי בָנֶיךָ” (דברים ד:ט).
This continuity is illustrated by Levi, Kehos, and Amram, each living long enough to pass on their heritage to the next generation.
Hashem will send fear and confusion among their enemies, causing them to flee. This will mirror what happened to the Egyptians at the sea, when they cried: “אָנוּסָה מִפְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, כִּי ה' נִלְחָם” (שמות יד:כה).
Hashem will deliver the inhabitants of the land into their hands, but the responsibility to drive them out rests with the people themselves. They must not delay or grow lazy in this task.
Yehoshua later rebuked the people for their hesitation: “עַד אָנָה אַתֶּם מִתְרַפִּים לָבוֹא לָרֶשֶׁת” (יהושע יח:ג).
The nations must not remain in the portions of the land that Israel conquers and inhabits. Unfortunately, Israel failed to heed this warning, as described in שופטים א:כט and א:לג, where the Canaanites continued to dwell among them.
“כִּי יִהְיֶה לְךָ לְמוֹקֵשׁ”
Their presence would become a snare, leading Israel to adopt their idolatrous practices.
Sforno portrays this chapter as a comprehensive vision of ethical and spiritual order. Judges must pursue truth with absolute integrity, resisting majority pressure and any hint of bias or falsehood. The Torah’s social vision extends to the rhythms of time as well: Shemittah, Shabbos, and the festivals shape a society rooted in rest, gratitude, and awareness of Hashem as Master of the land and of history. The chapter also warns against the influence of idolatrous cultures, emphasizing that spiritual corruption can undermine moral life. Obedience to Hashem’s guidance brings blessing, health, longevity, and security in the land, while neglect invites moral and national decline.
Sforno explains that this command came after Hashem had finished telling Moshe: “כֹּה תֹאמַר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אַתֶּם רְאִיתֶם” (שמות כ:יח). At that point, the people were taught not to seek intermediaries, but to serve Hashem through an altar of earth and careful observance of the commandments given in the Aseres HaDibros and the mishpatim.
All of this instruction was given to the entire nation. However, to Moshe personally, Hashem had already commanded that he should ascend the mountain, as stated earlier: “לֵךְ רֵד וְעָלִיתָ אַתָּה וְאַהֲרֹן עִמָּךְ” (שמות יט:כד).
Moshe told the people all the words of Hashem, beginning from “כֹּה תֹאמַר” (שמות יט:ג) until the section of “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים” (שמות כא:א).
“וְאֵת כָּל הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים”
This refers to the laws from the beginning of “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים” up to “וְאֶל מֹשֶׁה אָמַר.”
Moshe transformed the altar into the representative of Hashem for the purpose of establishing the covenant. Half of the blood was sprinkled on the altar, and the other half on the people, symbolizing the covenantal bond between Hashem and Israel.
This was the book in which Moshe recorded Hashem’s words and the laws upon which the covenant was based.
“וַיִּקְרָא בְּאָזְנֵי הָעָם”
Moshe read the contents aloud so the people would know exactly what they were accepting, preventing them from transgressing unknowingly.
“נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע”
This expresses a commitment to act in order to hear and obey Hashem’s voice, like servants who serve their master without expectation of reward. This parallels: “עֹשֵׂי דְבָרוֹ לִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקוֹל דְּבָרוֹ” (תהלים קג:כ).
After completing his mission of conveying Hashem’s words to the people, Moshe now fulfilled the command to ascend the mountain together with Aharon, as instructed earlier in the chapter.
Sforno explains that this refers allegorically to the earth, which is the lowest realm, as in: “וְהָאָרֶץ הֲדוֹם רַגְלָי” (ישעיהו סו:א).
“כְּמַעֲשֵׂה לִבְנַת הַסַּפִּיר”
This represents an essence devoid of material form, like clear sapphire. It symbolizes the human intellectual soul, which begins empty of knowledge but is capable of receiving spiritual understanding through deliberate contemplation.
“וּכְעֶצֶם הַשָּׁמַיִם לָטֹהַר”
They perceived this essence as separate from material substance, just as the essence of the heavens is pure and free of physical matter. It represents the spiritual dimension, distinct from the physical world.
Hashem did not remove their natural senses in order to elevate them into a prophetic state, as occurs with other prophets when “the hand of Hashem” rests upon them. In prophetic experiences, the ordinary senses may be suspended, as in the case of Shaul, who stripped off his garments while prophesying (שמואל א יט:כד).
Here, however, the nobles of Israel perceived their vision without such transformation.
“וַיֶּחֱזוּ אֶת הָאֱלֹהִים”
They experienced a vision of Hashem similar to a prophetic perception.
“וַיֹּאכְלוּ וַיִּשְׁתּוּ”
Afterward, they held a celebratory meal, with their normal senses intact, rejoicing over the spiritual level they had attained.
Sforno explains that Hashem told Moshe to ascend to the very top of the mountain. Earlier, Moshe had already approached closer than the others, as it says: “וְנִגַּשׁ מֹשֶׁה לְבַדּוֹ” (שמות כד:ב), but he had not yet reached the summit. It was at that earlier stage that the elders experienced their great vision.
Now, Moshe is commanded to go all the way to the top, where “מַרְאֵה כְּבוֹד ה'” appeared like a consuming fire. This description parallels the giving of the Torah, when Hashem called Moshe to the summit: “אֶל רֹאשׁ הָהָר” (שמות יט:כ).
“וֶהְיֵה שָׁם”
Moshe is told to remain there for an extended period, as the word “היה” sometimes indicates prolonged presence, as in דברים י:ה.
“וְהַתּוֹרָה… וְהַמִּצְוָה”
Sforno explains that “התורה” refers to the intellectual, contemplative aspects of the Torah, while “המצוה” refers to the practical, action-based components.
“אֲשֶׁר כָּתַבְתִּי”
Had the sin of the Golden Calf not occurred, the entire Torah would have been given directly from Hashem in written form, just like the Tablets. This is alluded to in: “מִימִינוֹ אֵשׁ דָּת לָמוֹ” (דברים לג:ב).
Because of the sin, this did not happen. Instead, Moshe wrote the Torah by Hashem’s command. Moshe brought the first Tablets only to break them before the people, to show them what they had lost through their disloyalty and to awaken them to repentance.
“לְהוֹרוֹתָם”
The written Torah contains everything in principle, but most people cannot understand its depth without proper guidance. Therefore, Moshe would receive the Torah in order to teach it. This resolves the apparent contradiction between statements of Chazal that most of the Torah is written and others that most is transmitted orally—the written Torah contains the material, but understanding it depends on teachers.
As Moshe departed to ascend the summit, he instructed the elders to remain behind, fulfilling the command given to him to go up the mountain.
From this point onward, each time Moshe ascended the mountain he remained there for forty days and forty nights. Sforno compares this to the forty-day period of fetal formation, symbolizing spiritual development and transformation.
Moshe was meant to attain his highest spiritual level during the first forty days, but the sin of the Golden Calf disrupted this. Hashem told him: “לֶךְ רֵד כִּי שִׁחֵת עַמְּךָ” (שמות לב:ז).
According to tradition, during the second forty days Hashem’s anger had not yet subsided, so Moshe did not receive the full spiritual radiance. Only during the third forty-day period did he attain that distinction, when he received the second Tablets and was commanded regarding the construction of the Mishkan.
This marked a major shift: previously, Hashem could be approached anywhere through an altar, as in “מִזְבַּח אֲדָמָה תַּעֲשֶׂה לִּי” (שמות כ:כ). After the sin, worship became centralized in the Mishkan, with the service performed by kohanim. The tribe of Levi was selected for this role only after the Golden Calf, as stated in דברים י:ח.
Thus, the forty-day periods reflect Moshe’s progressive spiritual elevation. The radiant light of his face appeared only after the third ascent, when he descended with the second Tablets and the command to build the Mishkan.
In the final chapter, Sforno focuses on the covenantal climax of the parsha. Moshe recounts the laws to the people, who accept them with the declaration “נעשה ונשמע,” committing themselves to action and obedience. The covenant is sealed through the symbolic sprinkling of blood, uniting Hashem and Israel in a shared bond. The elders experience a vision of spiritual reality, and Moshe ascends the mountain to receive the Torah. Sforno highlights the spiritual purpose of this ascent: the Torah contains both intellectual and practical dimensions, and its full understanding requires teaching and transmission. The forty days on the mountain represent Moshe’s spiritual development, later altered by the sin of the Golden Calf, which shifts the mode of worship from universal altars to the centralized service of the Mishkan.
Sforno reads Parshas Mishpatim as the embodiment of Sinai within human society. The revelation of Hashem’s will does not remain in the realm of thunder and fire; it descends into courts, fields, homes, and marketplaces. The mishpatim regulate power, protect the vulnerable, enforce truth in judgment, and sanctify economic and social relationships. Compassion for the poor, respect for authority, rest for servants and animals, gratitude in the festivals, and loyalty to Hashem all form parts of a unified moral vision. The covenant is ultimately sealed not only through words, but through a shared commitment to live by these laws. In Sforno’s reading, holiness emerges when the ideals of Sinai are translated into just, compassionate, and disciplined daily life.
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Abarbanel approaches Parshas Mishpatim not merely as a collection of civil laws, but as the unfolding of the covenantal vision that began at Sinai. The parsha follows immediately after the revelation of the Ten Commandments, and Abarbanel emphasizes that this sequence is intentional: the lofty declarations of Divine unity, Shabbos, and moral obligation must take root in the concrete realities of human life. Mishpatim therefore translates the thunder and fire of Sinai into the structure of society—governing servants, damages, property, lending, compassion for the vulnerable, and the administration of justice. Through these laws, the Torah demonstrates that holiness is not confined to the sanctuary or the moment of revelation; it is expressed in the marketplace, the courtroom, the home, and the field.
Throughout the commentary, Abarbanel repeatedly returns to several central ideas. First, he shows that the civil laws are not arbitrary social regulations but expressions of Divine wisdom, designed to refine character, preserve human dignity, and build a just society under Hashem’s sovereignty. Second, he explores the relationship between Israel and the nations, especially in the long section concerning the angel who leads them to the Land. There he develops a sweeping theological framework: the nations are governed through angelic intermediaries, while Israel stands under the direct providence of Hashem, especially within the Land of Israel. Third, he culminates the parsha with a philosophical explanation of Moshe’s forty days on the mountain, presenting them as a process of spiritual transformation, intellectual ascent, and purification of the physical nature.
Across the entire parsha, Abarbanel weaves together law, covenant, prophecy, and metaphysics. The legal sections establish the ethical foundation of Israel’s society; the angel passage clarifies their unique national destiny; and the final ascent of Moshe reveals the spiritual architecture underlying the Torah itself. In this way, Parshas Mishpatim becomes, in Abarbanel’s reading, the bridge between Sinai and the Mishkan—a movement from revelation, to law, to covenant, and finally to the Divine presence dwelling among Israel.
(“If a man opens a pit…”)
Abarbanel opens this section by presenting three central questions arising from the laws of damages and theft.
Abarbanel explains the structure of these laws by connecting them to the Aseres HaDibros. After the Torah listed the Ten Commandments, especially the commandment “Lo Tirtzach,” it now comes to explain the commandments included under “Lo Tignov,” meaning the improper taking or damaging of another’s property. Although the order of the commandments differs, the Torah juxtaposes theft to murder here because some laws belong to both prohibitions, as will be explained.
From this point until the law of the seduced maiden, the Torah presents the four primary categories of damages:
After these come the laws of the four guardians:
Abarbanel then introduces two important general principles:
The Torah says: “If a man opens a pit or digs a pit and does not cover it, and an ox or donkey falls into it…”
Abarbanel explains that the verse speaks of two cases:
If the person leaves it uncovered, he is liable. But if he covered it and it later became uncovered on its own, he is not liable.
The digger is called the “owner of the pit,” even though it is in the public domain, because he created the hazard. Therefore, he must pay the value of the animal that fell in. This applies to any hazard placed in the public domain, such as thorns or stones. The offender must compensate the owner for the damage.
However, if the hazard was placed on the person’s own property, he is not liable.
The phrase “and the dead animal shall be his” teaches that the carcass belongs to the one who caused the damage, since he paid its value.
Abarbanel then explains why the Torah mentions only animals and not people or vessels. Chazal interpret: “An ox and not a person; a donkey and not vessels” (בבא קמא נ״ה). A person possesses intellect and should watch his steps. Vessels are carried by people and moved according to human intention. Therefore, these are not included in the category of “Lo Tignov” in this context.
He contrasts this with the laws of the nations, where responsibility might fall on the animal owner rather than the pit digger. But the laws of Hashem are just and true.
The next law concerns an ox that gores another ox.
If the ox was previously harmless (שור תם), the owner did not expect such behavior. Nevertheless, because the damage came through his animal, he must pay half the damage. The living ox is sold, and the proceeds divided. The dead animal is also divided.
This assumes the animals were of equal value. Otherwise, the Torah’s instruction to sell the living ox teaches that the injured party receives only from the damaging ox, not additional payment from the owner.
This half-damage rule applies only to unusual damage. But if the animal caused typical damage—such as biting or kicking—full payment is required.
If the ox was known to be dangerous (שור מועד), meaning it had gored three times, the owner should have guarded it. Since he did not, he must pay full damages: a healthy live ox in place of the dead one, and the carcass goes to him.
Unlike the case of an ox that kills a person, where the ox is stoned, here the owner simply pays full damages.
Abarbanel explains why no additional penalties are imposed in the cases of the pit and the ox. Even though damage occurred, it was not done intentionally or for personal gain. But theft involves deliberate action for profit, so its penalties are greater.
The Torah states: if a man steals an ox or sheep and slaughters or sells it, he must pay fivefold for the ox and fourfold for the sheep.
Abarbanel questions the explanations offered by Chazal:
Abarbanel rejects these explanations. Not every ox performs labor, and it is unclear why these reasons would produce specifically the numbers five and four.
He instead adopts the reasoning of the Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim III:41). Cattle and sheep graze in distant fields. If the penalty were small, thieves would constantly steal them. The ox receives a heavier penalty because it grazes individually, making it easier to steal. A sheep, however, stays with the flock, and a shepherd can guard many at once. Therefore, its theft is harder and its penalty slightly lighter.
Still, Abarbanel asks: why, if the animal is found alive, does the thief pay only double, regardless of whether it is an ox or sheep?
He cites another explanation: the main principle of punishment is measure-for-measure justice. The thief intended to take one animal; therefore, he must pay two—one that he stole and one from his own property.
But when he slaughters or sells it, the owner has despaired of recovery. The thief has committed multiple acts:
Each act deepens the crime. Abarbanel cites the case of Achan, where Scripture describes multiple sins for a single theft (יהושע ז:י״ח–כ״א). Therefore, the punishment is increased to fourfold or fivefold.
Abarbanel also proposes a textual reading: the Torah says “five cattle” and “four sheep,” not “five oxen” or “four rams.” This suggests that the payments may actually be equivalent in value to two male animals, since males are worth more than females. Thus, the payments reflect the principle of double restitution in a practical way.
Nevertheless, he concludes: if the accepted tradition of the Sages differs, it must be accepted with respect.
The Torah states that if a burglar is found breaking in and is struck and killed, there is no bloodguilt.
Abarbanel explains that the principle is: “He is treated as he intended to treat others.” A burglar entering secretly is presumed to be prepared to kill the homeowner if resisted. Therefore, the homeowner may kill him without punishment.
But if the sun has risen upon him, it is clear that he did not come to kill. In that case, the burglar may not be killed for the sake of money.
Chazal interpret this metaphorically: if it is as clear as the sun that the burglar is peaceful—such as a father entering his son’s house—then it is forbidden to kill him.
If the theft is completed, the thief pays double. If he lacks the means, he is sold into servitude to repay the theft. However, his sale is only for the principal amount, not for the double or greater payments, because the servitude itself serves as punishment. His term may not exceed six years.
If the stolen item is found alive in his possession—whether ox, donkey, or sheep—he pays double. This rule applies to all movable items, not only animals.
Abarbanel again emphasizes that these laws all fall under the commandment “Lo Tignov,” which is placed near “Lo Tirtzach” because of their conceptual connection.
He concludes by comparing Torah law with the laws of other nations:
He explains that when Shlomo says, “He shall pay sevenfold” (משלי ו:ל״א), he is speaking not of legal punishment, but of the shame a thief feels and his willingness to pay anything to avoid disgrace. Torah law, however, is measured, just, and rooted in truth.
The Torah says: if a man causes his animal to graze in another’s field or vineyard, he must pay with the best of his field or vineyard.
Abarbanel explains:
The phrase “the best of his field” may be interpreted in two ways:
From here, Chazal derived the rule that damages are assessed from superior property (גיטין מ״ח).
If a man kindles a fire that spreads and consumes another’s produce, he must pay.
This refers to someone who lit a fire in his own field to clear thorns and weeds, but it spread and damaged another’s property. The damage may include:
In all such cases, the one who lit the fire must pay the full damage, because he either caused the fire directly or failed to guard it properly.
With this, the Torah completes the four primary categories of damage:
In this opening section of Mishpatim, Abarbanel presents a sweeping vision of civil law as an extension of the Aseres HaDibros. The laws of damages, theft, and property are not technical regulations but applications of the commandment against theft, rooted in the sanctity of human life and dignity. Through the categories of the pit, the ox, theft, grazing, and fire, the Torah establishes a system of justice that is measured, rational, and morally purposeful. Unlike the harsh or arbitrary laws of other nations, the Torah’s system reflects both wisdom and compassion, revealing that Divine law seeks not only order, but righteousness among people.
In this section, Abarbanel continues to develop the axis of theft and monetary responsibility, deepening the moral and philosophical structure behind the Torah’s penalties. While the earlier laws established categories of damage and restitution, here the Torah reveals how punishment corresponds not only to the object stolen, but to the thief’s intention, actions, and moral degradation. Abarbanel emphasizes that Torah law is neither arbitrary nor excessively harsh; rather, it reflects a precise balance of justice, deterrence, and moral logic, in contrast to the extreme punishments found in the legal systems of other nations.
(“If a man steals an ox or a sheep…”)
Abarbanel returns to the law of the thief who steals an ox or sheep and either slaughters or sells it. The Torah states that he must pay:
Abarbanel reiterates the question: why are the payments different? And why, if the animal is found alive in the thief’s possession, does he pay only double?
He first records the explanations of Chazal:
Abarbanel rejects these explanations. Not every ox is used for labor, and these reasons do not sufficiently explain the precise numbers four and five.
He then presents the explanation of the Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim III:41). Cattle and sheep graze far from inhabited areas. If the penalty were small, thieves would constantly steal them.
Therefore, the Torah imposed a heavier penalty for the ox and a slightly lighter one for the sheep, since the easier the crime is to commit, the harsher the penalty must be to deter it.
Still, Abarbanel asks: if so, why is the penalty only double when the animal is found alive in the thief’s possession?
He brings another explanation: the essential principle of punishment is measure-for-measure justice. The thief intended to take one animal; therefore, he must pay two—one that he stole and one from his own property.
However, when he slaughters or sells the animal, the crime becomes more severe. The owner has already despaired of recovery, and the thief has committed multiple acts of wrongdoing:
Each action compounds the sin. Abarbanel illustrates this from the story of Achan, where a single theft is described through many stages of wrongdoing (יהושע ז:י״ח–כ״א). Thus, the Torah increases the penalty to fourfold or fivefold.
Abarbanel also suggests a textual interpretation. The Torah says:
It does not say “five oxen” or “four rams.” This suggests that the payments may reflect value rather than number. Since male animals are more valuable than females, the thief may actually be paying the equivalent of two male animals, but in terms of female livestock.
Thus, the law still reflects the basic principle of double restitution. Nevertheless, if the accepted tradition of the Sages interprets the law differently, their tradition must be accepted.
(“If the thief is found breaking in…”)
Abarbanel explains that the Torah here teaches the principle: a person is judged as he intended to act.
A burglar who enters secretly is presumed to be prepared to kill the homeowner if resisted. Therefore, if the homeowner kills him, there is no bloodguilt.
But if the sun has risen upon him, it becomes clear that he did not come to kill. In such a case, it is forbidden to kill the thief for the sake of money.
Chazal interpret this metaphorically: if it is as clear as the sun that the burglar bears no murderous intent—such as a father entering his son’s house—then the homeowner may not kill him. The principle is: a life is not taken except in defense of life.
If the theft is completed, the thief must pay double. If he lacks the means, he is sold into servitude for his theft.
Abarbanel explains:
The Torah already established that the maximum term of such servitude is six years. However, if the theft was small and his value as a servant would cover only one or two years, logic dictates that he should be sold only for the time needed to repay the theft.
(“If the stolen item is found alive in his hand…”)
The Torah teaches that if the stolen item—whether ox, donkey, or sheep—is found alive in the thief’s possession, he pays double.
Abarbanel explains that this law is not limited to animals. It applies to all movable property. The Torah lists these animals only as common examples.
He adds an important detail: if the animal has already been slaughtered, the thief does not pay only double. The verse says “alive”—teaching that the double payment applies only when the stolen object still exists.
Abarbanel emphasizes again that all these laws fall under the commandment “Lo Tignov,” which is juxtaposed with “Lo Tirtzach” because of their conceptual connection.
He then contrasts the Torah’s system with the laws of other nations:
When Shlomo says, “He shall pay sevenfold” (משלי ו:ל״א), Abarbanel explains that this is not a legal penalty. Rather, it describes the thief’s shame. When exposed, he is so embarrassed that he would pay anything to escape disgrace, even all the wealth of his house.
Thus, the Torah’s punishments are:
They are neither cruel nor excessive, but rooted in truth and righteousness.
In this section, Abarbanel reveals the moral logic behind the Torah’s laws of theft. Punishment is not arbitrary but reflects the nature of the crime, the thief’s intention, and the stages of wrongdoing he commits. The Torah’s system balances deterrence, justice, and human dignity, in sharp contrast to the harsh or irrational penalties of other legal systems. Through these laws, the commandment against theft becomes a framework for a just society, where restitution restores balance and punishment reflects moral truth.
In this section, Abarbanel turns from the laws of open theft and damage to the more subtle realm of entrusted property. Here the Torah addresses the responsibilities that arise when one person places his possessions in the care of another. Abarbanel shows that these laws form a coherent system built on human relationships, levels of benefit, and degrees of responsibility. The Torah’s framework of the four guardians is not arbitrary; it reflects the moral logic of fairness, trust, and the distribution of risk between people engaged in shared economic life.
(“If a man gives his fellow money or vessels to guard…”)
Abarbanel explains that this passage discusses the case of the unpaid guardian (שומר חנם).
The Torah says: if a man gives his fellow money or vessels to guard, and they are stolen from the guardian’s house, the law depends on the circumstances.
If the thief is found, he pays double to the owner, just as if he had stolen directly from him.
But if the thief is not found, and the owner claims that the guardian himself took the items, then the guardian must approach “Elokim”—meaning the court, for “Elokim stands in the assembly of G-d” (תהלים פ״ב:א). There he must swear that he did not put his hand into the property of his fellow.
The oath concerns whether he used the deposited items for his own purposes. If he used them without permission, he immediately becomes like a robber and is liable even for unavoidable accidents. From that point, if the items are stolen, it is considered as if they were stolen from him personally.
But if he swears that he did not use them and did not take them, he is exempt.
Abarbanel explains that the Torah then introduces a general legal principle. The verse states:
“On every matter of trespass—whether ox, donkey, sheep, garment, or anything lost about which one says, ‘This is it’—the matter of both parties shall come before the judges.”
This is not limited to the unpaid guardian. Rather, it establishes a general rule: any dispute between two people, whether involving an unpaid guardian or a paid guardian, is judged before the court, and the parties swear as required.
According to Chazal (בבא קמא ק״ז), this verse teaches that if an unpaid guardian swears falsely and is later proven to have lied—even regarding part of the claim—he must pay double. From here the sages derive the rule that one who admits to part of a claim must swear regarding the rest.
However, this double payment applies only if:
But if he admitted part of the claim before swearing, he pays only what he admitted.
(“If a man gives his fellow a donkey, ox, or sheep…”)
Abarbanel explains that this passage describes the paid guardian (שומר שכר).
Chazal teach that the previous section dealt with the unpaid guardian because people generally do not charge for guarding money or vessels. But animals require effort to guard, so this section refers to a paid guardian.
The Torah states that if the animal:
and no one saw it, a dispute arises:
In such a case, an oath of Hashem is between them. If the guardian swears that he did not put his hand into his fellow’s property—meaning he neither stole it nor neglected it—he is believed and exempt.
The owner then takes the dead or injured animal, and the guardian pays nothing.
Chazal interpret the phrase “and its owner shall take it” to mean that the owner takes the oath of the guardian in place of payment. From here they derive the rule: one who takes an oath does not receive payment.
However:
If the thief is later found, he pays double to the guardian who had already compensated the owner.
If the animal was torn by a wild beast—an obvious accident—he must bring evidence, such as a part of the carcass. The Mechilta explains that he must bring a limb or some portion as proof. Once this is established, he is exempt.
(“If a man borrows from his fellow…”)
Abarbanel now explains the case of the borrower (שואל).
Sometimes a person receives his fellow’s animal not as a deposit, but as a loan for his own use. If the borrowed animal:
and the owner is not with him, the borrower must pay—even for accidents. This is because the borrower received all the benefit from the arrangement. The owner did not share in the use of the animal.
The owner can claim that the borrower overloaded or overworked the animal, causing its death. Therefore, the borrower must pay in all cases.
But if the owner was with him at the time of the work, or when the animal died or was injured, he does not pay. In such a case, the owner would not have allowed the borrower to overwork the animal. Either:
In such a situation, both parties benefit, and the borrower is exempt.
Even if the owner was working for him as a hired laborer, it is considered as if the arrangement was included in the wages. The borrower is then like a renter, and the renter is exempt from unavoidable accidents.
Abarbanel summarizes the four guardians:
He adds a more precise interpretation of the renter’s case. If the animal was rented, its payment includes the risk of normal use. The renter did not hire the animal on condition that it remain permanently healthy. Therefore, if it dies from the labor for which it was rented, he is exempt from accidents.
Abarbanel concludes that all these eight commandments—from damages through the laws of the four guardians—are included within the commandment “Lo Tignov.” The core principle is that a person may not remove or diminish his fellow’s property without consent.
He emphasizes that all these divine laws are founded on truth, wisdom, compassion, and proper order. The Torah’s legal system reflects a profound balance of justice and mercy. No other nation possesses such a system, as the verse states:
“Lo asah chen lechol goy, u’mishpatim bal yeda’um”
“He did not do so for any other nation; they do not know His laws” (תהלים קמ״ז:כ׳).
(“If you acquire a Hebrew servant…”)
Abarbanel introduces this mitzvah by raising three central questions.
Abarbanel explains that the Torah begins with the law of the Hebrew servant for two reasons.
This law emerges directly from the first commandment:
“אָנֹכִי ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִיךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם מִבֵּית עֲבָדִים”
“I am Hashem your G-d who took you out of the land of Egypt, from the house of slavery.”
Because Hashem redeemed Israel from Egypt, they became His servants. Therefore, it is not proper for one Jew to enslave another permanently, as the verse says:
“עֲבָדַי הֵם אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִי אֹתָם מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם”
“They are My servants, whom I brought out of Egypt.”
For this reason, the Torah begins the laws of Mishpatim with the Hebrew servant: he may not serve forever, but only six years. Then he returns to his inheritance and his family.
Just as the Torah itself began with the account of Creation to establish the principle of renewal and Divine authorship of the world, and ends with the remembrance of miracles, so too this section of laws begins with a commandment that reflects the same principle and ends with remembrance of the miracles, as will later be explained.
Abarbanel adds another explanation for the placement of these laws.
The Torah presents these Mishpatim to teach Israel that the commandments they heard at Sinai—though brief in wording—contain many Divine legal systems within them.
Even though:
Still, the Torah’s laws are not merely human conventions. Within those brief commandments lie many detailed Divine laws, which Hashem commanded specifically to Israel. As the verse says:
“וּמִשְׁפָּטִים בַּל יְדָעוּם”
“They do not know His laws” (תהלים קמ״ז:כ׳).
For this reason, the Torah begins here with the commandments that were shorter and more general, expanding them into detailed legal structures.
In particular, the Torah now explains the commandment “Lo Tirtzach.”
Abarbanel explains that one form of “murder” is when a person enslaves another for life. Such enslavement is “murder in life,” because just as the Torah calls charity “life”:
“וְחֵי אָחִיךָ עִמָּךְ”
“Your brother shall live with you,”
so too enslavement—the opposite of charity—is akin to murder.
He cites the rebuke given in the days of Yirmiyahu:
“לָכֵן כֹּה אָמַר ה׳… אַתֶּם לֹא שְׁמַעְתֶּם אֵלַי לִקְרֹא דְּרוֹר אִישׁ לְאָחִיו… הִנְנִי קוֹרֵא לָכֶם דְּרוֹר… אֶל הַחֶרֶב אֶל הַדֶּבֶר וְאֶל הָרָעָב”
(ירמיהו ל״ד)
Because they enslaved their brothers, they were punished with sword, famine, and plague—measure for measure.
Thus, the Torah begins Mishpatim with the law of the Hebrew servant, who must be freed after six years.
Abarbanel clarifies that the law here refers to a servant sold by the court, as the Torah states elsewhere:
“וְאִם אֵין לוֹ וְנִמְכַּר בִּגְנֵבָתוֹ”
“If he has nothing, he shall be sold for his theft.”
This servant serves six years and goes free at the beginning of the seventh without paying any redemption money.
But one who sells himself voluntarily may sell himself for longer or shorter terms, as he chooses. Therefore:
Abarbanel explains the meaning of the phrase.
If the servant was unmarried when he entered, he leaves alone. The master may not compel him to marry an Israelite woman.
If he was married before being sold, the master must provide sustenance for his wife and children, since they have no other support. Therefore, when the servant leaves, his wife leaves with him, and the master is no longer responsible for her support.
However, if the servant was unmarried, the master may give him a Canaanite maidservant so he can have children. If such a woman bears him children:
Abarbanel explains the repetition in the verse:
Abarbanel explains that the six-year term reflects a deep, Divine pattern:
The six-year term of the Hebrew servant follows the same structure, revealing that these laws are rooted in the faith of Creation. They are not merely rational legal conventions, but expressions of the Divine order of the world.
If the servant declares:
“אָהַבְתִּי אֶת אֲדֹנִי… לֹא אֵצֵא חָפְשִׁי”
“I love my master… I will not go free,”
the Torah describes the procedure of ear-piercing.
Abarbanel explains:
Abarbanel concludes with a sweeping reflection on the disgrace of the Hebrew servant.
Whether he sold himself or was sold by the court:
Chazal say:
The Torah shows the futility of his plan:
If he wishes to remain with them, he must accept public disgrace: the ear-piercing, becoming a servant “forever.”
Abarbanel contrasts this with the laws of other nations:
But the Torah’s laws are founded on compassion, goodness, and justice. There is no system among the nations that matches this mercy.
(“If a man sells his daughter as a maidservant…”)
Abarbanel introduces this section by raising three questions about the law of the Hebrew maidservant.
Abarbanel explains that after completing the law of the Hebrew male servant—also included under the prohibition of “Lo Tirtzach”—the Torah now presents the law of the Hebrew maidservant, which is also included in that category.
The Torah uses the phrase, “If a man sells his daughter,” because:
Therefore, the Torah connects the sale to the father. By contrast, the Hebrew male servant may be sold by the court for theft, so the Torah uses the expression “If you acquire.”
Abarbanel explains that this phrase does not mean she does not leave after six years or in the Yovel. In that respect, the male and female Hebrew servants are the same.
Rather, it means she does not leave under the same marital circumstances described for the male servant.
For the male servant, the Torah states:
But none of this applies to the Hebrew maidservant:
Because of these differences in marital laws, the Torah says, “She shall not go out as the servants go out,” meaning in the manner of the marital arrangements described for the male servant.
Abarbanel emphasizes the Torah’s special concern for the Hebrew maidservant. Even though she is under her father’s authority while still a minor:
This is because the Torah never intended her sale as mere servitude. Rather, the assumption is that the buyer intends to designate her as a wife, either for himself or for his son.
A man does not usually buy a young girl for labor, since she is weak in body and mind. Instead, he buys her because of her beauty or good character, intending marriage. The father sells her on that assumption, not because she stole or so he could spend the money for his own pleasure.
However, it may happen that after purchasing her, the master finds her unsuitable and does not wish to marry her. In that case, the Torah commands:
This is the meaning of “והפדה”—he must facilitate her release. Ramban explains that the father redeems her when he sees that the master will not marry her or his son.
Abarbanel offers two interpretations.
First interpretation:
Any other Israelite man may be considered a “foreign people” to her, since once she leaves the master’s house, any other household is foreign to her. Thus, he may not sell her onward.
Second interpretation:
The phrase teaches that unlike a Hebrew male servant—whom the master may give a Canaanite maidservant—the buyer of a Hebrew maidservant may not give her to a Canaanite man. He may not sell her to a non-Israelite for relations.
If the master designates her for his son, he must treat her “according to the law of daughters.” This means:
Abarbanel explains that “the law of daughters” means:
If the master or his son takes another wife in addition to her, he must not diminish her rights. The Torah specifies:
Chazal explain:
The obligation of food is considered a rabbinic enactment, not a biblical one.
The Torah states that if he does not fulfill these three obligations, she goes free without payment.
Abarbanel presents the accepted explanation:
If the master:
Then she goes free in the seventh year if still a minor, or earlier if she reaches maturity.
When she shows signs of maturity, she leaves the authority of both father and master without payment.
He also suggests an alternative reading:
The “three things” may refer to:
If he diminishes any of these, she may leave immediately without payment, even before the six years.
Abarbanel concludes that the law of the Hebrew maidservant, like that of the Hebrew servant, is included under the prohibition of “Lo Tirtzach.”
The Torah shows great compassion toward the daughters of Israel. Even in servitude, the law is structured so that mercy and dignity prevail. Such compassion is absent from the laws of the nations and from the commandments of Bnei Noach. The Torah’s system alone reflects this depth of kindness and justice.
(“One who strikes a man and he dies shall surely be put to death”)
Abarbanel introduces this section with three questions.
Abarbanel explains that the Torah is presenting another law regarding the murderer—one who kills a human being.
The phrase “one who strikes a man” serves several purposes:
The punishment is death, and the unspecified death penalty in the Torah is strangulation.
The verse continues:
“וַאֲשֶׁר לֹא צָדָה, וְהָאֱלֹקִים אִנָּה לְיָדוֹ”
“But one who did not lie in wait, and G-d caused it to come to his hand.”
Abarbanel explains:
If the person did not strike intentionally, but only by accident, he is not executed. A person is not punished with death for an unintentional act. Instead, Hashem designates a place for him to flee—the cities of refuge, which would later be commanded.
The purpose of the cities of refuge is:
There are only two categories here:
There is no intermediate category. Therefore, the Torah says: “one who strikes and dies shall surely be put to death—except for one who did not lie in wait.”
The phrase “and G-d caused it to come to his hand” teaches that even events that appear accidental are under Divine providence. As Chazal say:
“אין אדם נוקף אצבעו מלמטה אלא אם כן מכריזין עליו מלמעלה”
“A person does not strike his finger below unless it is decreed above” (חולין ז׳).
They also give the example of two men:
Through Divine providence, circumstances bring about justice for both.
From the perspective of the killer, the act may be accidental, yet it is still under Heavenly oversight. Therefore:
Chazal further teach that in the wilderness, the camp of the Levites served this function. They derive this from the verse, “from My altar you shall take him to die.” This implies that the altar protects an unintentional killer.
The Torah then states:
“וְכִי יָזִד אִישׁ עַל רֵעֵהוּ לְהָרְגוֹ בְּעָרְמָה”
“If a man plots against his fellow to kill him with cunning…”
Abarbanel explains that this introduces a third scenario: a person who causes another’s death through cunning or deception, even without striking him directly.
Because of his wickedness and scheming intent:
This was the case with Yoav ben Tzeruyah. He seized the horns of the altar, hoping to save himself. But Shlomo commanded Benaiah that if Yoav would not leave, he should be killed there. The Torah’s phrase, “from My altar you shall take him,” teaches that even the altar offers no refuge to the intentional murderer.
Abarbanel explains that this expression is hyperbolic, to teach that the murderer has no sanctuary—not even at the altar.
Although the commandment “Lo Tirtzach” applies universally, Abarbanel highlights two signs of the Torah’s Divine wisdom:
Thus, the Torah’s justice is both compassionate and uncompromising, combining mercy for the accidental killer with absolute severity toward intentional murder.
(“One who strikes his father or his mother shall surely be put to death”)
Abarbanel introduces this section with three questions.
Abarbanel explains that the Torah is now presenting another law included under the prohibition of “Lo Tirtzach,” namely the crimes a person may commit against his own father and mother. There are three possible forms of wickedness in this area.
The first is striking them and causing a wound.
Even if the blow does not cause death, but produces injury or blood, the son is liable to death by strangulation if he struck intentionally in anger.
Even if the parents forgive him and wish to spare him, he is not pardoned; he must still be executed. This offense is included under “Lo Tirtzach,” because, as Abarbanel explained earlier, the concept of murder can extend to violent assault.
The second form of sin is the rebellious son who kidnaps a person—especially a child—and sells him, as the brothers of Yosef did when they sold him to the Ishmaelites.
This is the meaning of:
“וְגוֹנֵב אִישׁ וּמְכָרוֹ”
“One who kidnaps a man and sells him.”
Although this prohibition applies to anyone who kidnaps a Jew, the Torah places it here to teach about the grievous sin against parents. Kidnapping a young child from elderly parents, whose souls are bound to their child, is worse than killing them. Thus, it is included under both:
Abarbanel explains that the conjunctions in these prohibitions function as alternatives.
Just as “one who strikes his father or mother” means either his father or his mother, so too:
“וּמְכָרוֹ וְנִמְצָא בְיָדוֹ”
Means:
In other words, even if he has not yet sold the victim but is hiding him in preparation for sale, he is still liable to death. In any case where he kidnapped a person with the intention of selling him, he is executed, for he is considered a murderer of the soul he stole.
Abarbanel on Parshas Mishpatim …
This prohibition applies:
As the verse states:
“כִּי יִגְנֹב אִישׁ נֶפֶשׁ מֵאֶחָיו”
“If a man kidnaps a soul from among his brothers” (דברים כ״ד:ז).
Even if the kidnapper:
He must still be punished, for the sake of the world’s moral order.
This explains why the commandment of kidnapping appears between striking and cursing parents: it represents another form of grave wrongdoing that violates both parental honor and the prohibition of murder.
The third and least severe form of wrongdoing against parents is verbal: cursing them.
The verse states:
“וּמְקַלֵּל אָבִיו וְאִמּוֹ מוֹת יוּמָת”
“One who curses his father or mother shall surely be put to death.”
Although this verse states simply that he shall be put to death, another verse clarifies that his punishment is stoning:
“אִישׁ אִישׁ כִּי יְקַלֵּל… אָבִיו וְאִמּוֹ קִלֵּל דָּמָיו בּוֹ”
(ויקרא כ׳:ט)
Wherever the Torah says “his blood is upon him,” it refers to stoning, since the entire people participate in the execution.
Abarbanel explains the distinction.
Moreover, the curser uses the Divine Name in his curse. Since he brings the holy Name upon his lips in disgrace, he deserves the harsher penalty of stoning.
Because this sin is against the commandment:
“Honor your father and your mother,”
which belongs to the first tablet between man and G-d, the Torah equates:
For the Holy One, blessed be He, and the parents are partners in a person’s creation.
Abarbanel concludes that although these commandments are connected to the commandment to honor one’s parents, they are also included under “Lo Tirtzach.”
Their Divine origin is evident:
But the Torah’s laws are true and just, giving each offense its proper measure and severity. Thus, the three questions are resolved.
(“If men quarrel and one strikes the other…”)
Abarbanel explains pshat in 4 Segments:
Abarbanel introduces this passage with three questions.
Abarbanel explains that after the Torah discussed the law of the murderer, and then the crimes of striking or cursing one’s parents and kidnapping a person, it now presents the laws of other forms of injury.
These are cases where:
The Torah divides these laws into three categories. The first is the case described here: when one Israelite strikes another.
The verse says:
“If men quarrel and one strikes his fellow with a stone or with a fist.”
This refers to a significant blow, one capable of causing death. The term “fist” implies a heavy, forceful strike, like a stone or a solid club. The blow was serious enough that the injured person might have died from it.
However, the victim does not die. Instead, he falls to his bed, and his condition is uncertain.
The Torah then teaches:
“If he rises and walks outside upon his staff, the striker is cleared.”
This means that if witnesses later see the injured person walking outside like someone recovering from illness, the striker is cleared of the death penalty.
The phrase “cleared” refers specifically to capital punishment. He is released from confinement and is no longer treated as a potential murderer.
From this we learn an important principle: even if the victim later returns to his bed and dies, the striker is not executed. Since the victim had already recovered and walked outside, it is assumed that the later death was due to some other cause or poor conduct, not from the original blow.
Therefore, the striker is exempt from death.
However, he is not free from all liability. The Torah continues:
“Only he shall pay for his lost time, and he shall surely heal him.”
This teaches that he must pay:
The phrase “he shall surely heal him” teaches that the injured party must receive proper medical treatment, and the striker must pay for it.
From here, Abarbanel explains a further principle: if the striker hit him only with his hand, without a stone or instrument, and the victim later died from the pain, the striker is exempt from death and from most payments. The Torah imposes liability only when the blow was one capable of causing death. If the injury occurred from a lesser strike, it is considered an unfortunate development, and he pays only for embarrassment.
Abarbanel also explains the phrase “he shall surely heal him” to mean:
If the injured person says, “I do not want a doctor,” the striker may respond, “I wish to hire a doctor to heal you, so that you will not die and I be executed.” Therefore, proper medical treatment must be provided.
Beyond the payments mentioned explicitly—lost time and healing—Abarbanel notes that the Sages taught that the striker must also pay for three additional categories:
These are assessed according to the dignity of the injured person and his family.
The verse’s statement that “the striker is cleared” does not mean he is free of all consequences. It means only that he is cleared of the death penalty. He still must pay:
Thus, the apparent contradiction in the verse is resolved.
The second division within this passage concerns the case of a man who strikes his Canaanite slave or maidservant.
The Torah states that if a man strikes his slave or maidservant with a rod and the slave dies under his hand, he shall surely be avenged. This law applies specifically to a Canaanite slave or maidservant, not to a Hebrew servant or maidservant, for they are considered like other Israelites in all legal matters.
Abarbanel explains that the Torah was concerned about a particular moral danger.
If a slave dies immediately under the master’s hand, this indicates extreme cruelty. The master, even as the slave’s life was departing, continued striking him until he killed him. Such behavior would not ordinarily occur among Israelites, but the Torah seeks to prevent a person from accustoming himself to such cruelty.
Therefore, the punishment is not primarily for the sake of the slave, since the slave is the master’s property. Rather, the punishment is for the master’s cruel and corrupt character. The Torah aims to refine the moral character of Israel and remove excessive cruelty from among them.
For this reason, the master is executed by the sword, which is the lightest of the court-imposed deaths, similar to the punishment of the people of an idolatrous city. This reflects that the punishment addresses his moral corruption rather than the legal status of the slave.
The Torah continues:
“If he survives a day or two, he shall not be avenged, for he is his money.”
Abarbanel explains:
If the slave does not die immediately, but survives for:
then even if he later dies from the blow, the master is not executed.
In this case, the Torah does not focus on the slave’s death, because “he is his money.” Instead, the Torah’s concern is the master’s cruelty. Since the slave did not die immediately, the act is not considered one of extreme brutality. The master acted in anger and damaged his own property, but he did not display the same level of savage cruelty as in the previous case.
Therefore:
Abarbanel explains that the Torah’s primary goal here is not the slave’s property status, but the moral refinement of the Israelite master. Since the act in the second case was less cruel, the master is not put to death.
Abarbanel cites Ramban, who explains the verse differently.
According to Ramban:
“If he survives a day or two” means the slave actually stands up and walks again. In such a case, it is assumed that he did not die from the blow, but from some other cause that developed later.
Abarbanel concludes that this law is also included within the commandment “Lo Tirtzach.” Even though the victim is a slave, the Torah’s purpose is to perfect the moral character of Israel and distance them from excessive cruelty.
This demonstrates the Divine wisdom of these laws: they are not merely social regulations, but instruments for refining human character and establishing a just and compassionate society.
The third division within this passage concerns the case of men fighting who strike a pregnant woman and cause her to miscarry.
The Torah states:
“וכי ינצו אנשים ונגפו אשה הרה ויצאו ילדיה…”
“If men fight and strike a pregnant woman, and her children emerge…”
Abarbanel explains that the quarrel was between two men, and women came to separate them. One of the men, intending to strike his opponent, accidentally struck the pregnant woman. As a result, she miscarried, but no fatal injury occurred to the woman herself.
If the pregnancy is lost but the woman herself suffers no fatal harm, the one who struck her must pay monetary compensation.
The Torah says:
“ענוש יענש כאשר ישית עליו בעל האשה”
“He shall surely be punished, as the husband of the woman imposes upon him.”
This refers to payment for the loss of the unborn children.
If the husband and the offender cannot reach an agreement, the case is brought before the judges:
“ונתן בפלילים”
“And he shall give it through the judges.”
The judges assess how much the woman’s value would have been if sold as a maidservant while pregnant, compared to her value now after the miscarriage. The difference becomes the amount of compensation.
The Torah does not say “as the woman imposes,” because the financial rights of the fetus are considered the husband’s, not the wife’s.
The Torah continues:
“ואם אסון יהיה ונתת נפש תחת נפש”
“But if harm occurs, you shall give life for life.”
Abarbanel explains that this refers to the death of the woman resulting from the blow.
However, he emphasizes that the phrase “you shall give” does not necessarily mean literal execution. Rather, it refers to the payment of monetary compensation, a ransom. This is because:
But he is also not entirely cleared like one who kills accidentally, because he deliberately intended to strike someone. Therefore, he must pay compensation.
The Torah then lists:
Abarbanel explains that all of these refer to monetary compensation. They are assessed in financial terms, as though the injured person were a slave being evaluated for sale.
Even if the injured person were a prince, the compensation is calculated in the same structured way.
He emphasizes that this is not meant literally. The Oral Tradition already established that “eye for eye” is not to be taken literally. If it were:
He also cites a philosophical argument mentioned by the Ramban: if “eye for eye” were literal, why would the Torah earlier require payment for lost work and medical costs? If the offender suffers the same injury, then the cycle would continue endlessly.
Thus, “eye for eye” must refer to monetary compensation.
Abarbanel explains the moral logic of the Torah’s distinction:
He notes that in some nations’ laws, one who causes a miscarriage is punished with death, whether the act was intentional or accidental. The Torah, however, distinguishes:
This reflects the Torah’s wisdom and compassion.
The third question—why there is no death penalty for the loss of the unborn children—is resolved:
Therefore, the punishment is monetary, not capital.
This completes the third division of the laws of injury and resolves the third question posed at the beginning of the section.
The Torah continues with another law included within the commandment “Lo Tirtzach,” dealing with a case in which a master injures his Canaanite slave.
The verse states:
“וכי יכה איש את עין עבדו או את עין אמתו ושחתהּ לחפשי ישלחנו תחת עינו. ואם שן עבדו או שן אמתו יפיל לחפשי ישלחנו תחת שנו.”
“If a man strikes the eye of his slave or the eye of his maidservant and destroys it, he shall send him free for the sake of his eye. And if he knocks out the tooth of his slave or the tooth of his maidservant, he shall send him free for the sake of his tooth.”
Abarbanel explains that this law does not apply to a Hebrew servant or maidservant. If someone were to injure a Hebrew servant’s eye or tooth, the law would follow the general rules of personal injury:
But the law here applies specifically to the Canaanite slave or maidservant.
Abarbanel explains the purpose of this commandment.
If a master allows his anger to run free and becomes accustomed to cruelty toward his slaves—whom he considers his property—it is fitting that those slaves should leave his authority and no longer serve him.
Therefore:
This is a moral corrective: the Torah prevents a person from developing habits of cruelty toward those under his control.
Chazal taught that the law is not limited to the eye and tooth alone. Rather, there are twenty-four primary limbs for which a slave goes free if the master destroys one of them.
These include:
The Torah mentions the eye and tooth as representative examples, but the same law applies to the other limbs.
Abarbanel concludes that this commandment, too, is included within the prohibition of “Lo Tirtzach.” Even though the master does not kill the slave, the Torah addresses the destructive and cruel tendencies that could lead to violence.
The wisdom and compassion of the Torah are evident here. In the laws of some nations, a master is not punished at all for injuring his slave, since “he is his property.” But the Rock, whose work is perfect, is just and upright. The Torah assigns each person his proper due:
All are governed by justice.
Thus, this law reflects the Torah’s effort to refine human character and prevent cruelty within society.
Abarbanel opens the laws of Chapter 21 by addressing a fundamental question: why does the Torah begin its civil legislation with the laws of the Hebrew servant? He explains that the Torah deliberately starts with the most vulnerable social category to establish the moral tone of the entire legal system. Even a person who has fallen into servitude is not stripped of dignity. His term of service is limited, his family relationships are protected, and his personal autonomy is preserved. In this way, the Torah demonstrates that its משפטים are not merely systems of control, but expressions of compassion, justice, and social balance.
From there, Abarbanel turns to the laws of personal injury and capital crimes. He carefully distinguishes between intentional murder, accidental killing, and acts of negligence, showing that the Torah’s system of justice is neither vengeful nor indifferent. Each case is weighed according to intent, circumstance, and consequence. This structure reflects a deeper principle: human life is sacred, and justice must be measured and rational, not driven by passion or cruelty. The laws of striking parents, kidnapping, and other severe crimes are included to reinforce the sanctity of the family and the fundamental dignity of the individual.
Abarbanel also explores the laws concerning damages caused by people, animals, or property. He explains that these laws are designed to instill responsibility and foresight. A person is not only accountable for his direct actions, but also for the foreseeable consequences of his possessions and behavior. Through these משפטים, the Torah teaches that society must be built on awareness, accountability, and mutual protection. Even the owner of an ox must take responsibility for its nature, just as a person must take responsibility for his own actions.
Throughout the chapter, Abarbanel emphasizes that these laws reflect Divine wisdom. They are structured to protect the weak, restrain the powerful, and create a society where justice is grounded in both reason and compassion. The משפטים are therefore not separate from the revelation at Sinai; they are its practical expression. The same Divine voice that proclaimed the Ten Commandments now shapes the details of everyday life, teaching that holiness is realized through just conduct among human beings.
(“If a man seduces a virgin…”)
Abarbanel explains that after the Torah presented the commandments included under “Lo Tirtzach” and “Lo Tignov,” it now turns to additional laws included under the commandment “Lo Tinaf” (“You shall not commit adultery”).
The Torah does not prohibit only relations with a married woman or betrothed maiden, which incur capital punishment. Even the case of an unmarried virgin is included in the moral sphere of this commandment.
The Torah states:
“If a man seduces a virgin who is not betrothed and lies with her…”
One might think that since she is not married, there is no sin. But Abarbanel explains that even this case is included under “Lo Tinaf.” It is something that Hashem hates: a man seducing a young woman for immoral purposes.
Therefore, the Torah imposes a penalty:
This settlement is the same amount mentioned elsewhere for the case of rape: fifty silver coins given to the father of the maiden.
Abarbanel notes that the word “mohar” (bride-price) is related to “mehirah,” speed or urgency, implying that he must marry her immediately.
Abarbanel explains the justice of this commandment.
Usually, a man does not seduce a girl who is socially appropriate for him to marry. If she were suitable, he would simply ask for her hand properly.
Instead:
Therefore, the Torah decrees:
This removes the incentive to seduce and abandon her.
However, the situation may be reversed.
If:
then the man must pay the father the monetary amount of the bride-price.
This is because:
Because the girl herself participated in the act, the Torah does not make the marriage dependent on her will alone, but on her father’s decision.
Abarbanel then explains why the next commandment, “You shall not let a sorceress live,” follows immediately.
Men often seduce young women through the help of certain women who practice sorcery or claim magical influence. These women promise that through their spells, the girl will become attracted to the man and agree to relations.
Thus, the Torah places the commandment against sorcery here, because such practices lead directly to sexual immorality.
He notes that although the verse says “sorceress” in the feminine form, the law applies equally to a male sorcerer. The Torah speaks in the common case, since women were more frequently involved in such practices, especially in matters of seduction.
The Torah says “You shall not let her live,” rather than “she shall be put to death,” to emphasize:
The Torah then gives another law:
“Whoever lies with an animal shall surely be put to death.”
Abarbanel explains that this includes all forbidden sexual relationships, which are compared to relations with animals, since they are outside the proper human boundary.
He notes that according to the Rambam, such practices were associated with idolatrous rituals. For this reason, the Torah continues with:
“One who sacrifices to other gods shall be destroyed.”
But Abarbanel prefers a different explanation: these commandments are grouped here because they all belong to the broader sphere of “Lo Tinaf,” the prohibition of sexual immorality.
Abarbanel then explains the connection to the commandment:
“You shall not wrong or oppress the stranger.”
He explains that this commandment belongs to the prohibition:
“You shall not bear false witness.”
One might think that this commandment applies only to formal testimony. But it also includes:
Even though the Torah says that one who sacrifices to other gods shall be destroyed, the convert who once worshipped idols but has now entered the covenant must not be insulted.
The Torah reminds Israel:
If you do, Hashem will punish you just as He punished the Egyptians.
The Torah continues:
“You shall not afflict any widow or orphan.”
This too is included under the prohibition of causing harm through speech or mistreatment.
Even if they are wealthy, people are inclined to oppress them because:
Therefore, the Torah warns that their Redeemer is strong:
Abarbanel concludes that although these commandments apply more broadly than the specific cases mentioned, they are all included within the original Ten Commandments.
The Torah speaks in common examples, but its commandments are universal. This demonstrates that the Ten Commandments contain within them a comprehensive system of Divine justice, founded on wisdom and compassion.
(“If you lend money to My people…”)
Abarbanel introduces this section with three questions.
Abarbanel explains that after the Torah described commandments included within:
it now comes to show that many commandments are also included within “Lo Sachmod” (“You shall not covet”).
This prohibition is not limited to coveting another person’s house, wife, or field. It also includes other forms of improper desire for another’s property.
The first example is:
“If you lend money to My people, to the poor person among you…”
Abarbanel explains that the word “if” here indicates permission, not obligation. The primary mitzvah is to give charity as a gift, as the Torah says:
However, if the poor person does not want to receive charity as a gift, or if the lender prefers to help by way of a loan, then:
And because of this delay, he must not charge interest. Interest is called “neshech” (biting), because it begins small but eventually causes great harm, like the bite of a scorpion.
The Torah uses the plural phrase:
“You shall not impose interest,”
to include:
All are warned not to participate in a loan with interest.
Although interest is forbidden even with a wealthy borrower, the verse mentions “the poor” because:
One might say:
“If I do not pressure him or charge interest, I will at least secure my loan with a pledge.”
Therefore, the Torah continues:
“If you take your fellow’s garment as a pledge, you shall return it to him by sunset.”
This refers to the poor person’s cloak. The Torah explains:
“For it is his only covering; it is his garment for his skin. In what shall he sleep?”
Abarbanel describes the typical arrangement of bedding:
But the poor person has none of these. His single garment serves as:
Therefore, it must be returned to him before nightfall, or he will suffer from the cold.
The Torah does not mention returning a daytime garment, because people do not usually remove their daytime clothing to give as a pledge and remain naked.
Because this commandment goes beyond strict justice—requiring a lender to wait patiently, avoid interest, and even return the pledge daily—the Torah explains:
“If he cries out to Me, I will hear, for I am gracious.”
Hashem does not say, “for I am just,” because the lender is not technically acting unjustly. Rather, Hashem hears the cry of the poor because of His compassion. He is gracious and merciful toward the needy.
From this we learn:
Because these laws go beyond the strict letter of the law, a person might resent them and curse:
Therefore, the Torah says:
“You shall not curse G-d, nor curse a prince among your people.”
It mentions only G-d and the prince because:
A person might reason:
“I have lent money to the poor for the sake of Hashem. Since I have done this, I will delay giving my tithes or offerings until the borrower repays me.”
Therefore, the Torah states:
“You shall not delay your fullness and your outflow.”
This refers to:
The same applies to:
Just as a firstborn animal must remain with its mother for seven days and be given on the eighth, so too these offerings must not be delayed.
Abarbanel concludes that all these commandments fall under “Lo Sachmod”:
The Torah then states:
“You shall be holy men to Me.”
Abarbanel explains that this is a general command. It refers to all the matters connected to the commandments just discussed.
It includes:
Since not all details were listed explicitly, the Torah gives a general command to be holy in all these areas.
The Torah concludes:
“You shall not eat flesh that is torn in the field; you shall throw it to the dog.”
Abarbanel explains that forbidden foods produce corrupt dispositions and negative character traits. Therefore, even permitted animals, if they become treifah (fatally injured), must not be eaten.
The verse mentions a torn animal, but the same applies to other fatal injuries.
The Torah says to throw it to the dog to teach:
He adds another interpretation: the Torah may be warning Israel not to adopt the customs of the Canaanite nobles, who would hunt animals in the field and eat them where they fell. Instead, Israel must remain holy, even in leisure and hunting.
Thus, the three questions are resolved:
In this way, Abarbanel shows that these laws, too, are part of the Divine structure embedded within the Ten Commandments.
In Chapter 22, Abarbanel continues his exploration of the Torah’s civil laws, focusing on property, financial responsibility, and the ethical obligations that bind one person to another. He explains that the laws of theft, damages, and entrusted property are designed not only to regulate economic life, but to cultivate trust and moral accountability within society. A just community, he argues, depends on the reliability of its members; therefore, the Torah establishes clear rules for restitution, responsibility, and fair dealing. These laws ensure that no one can benefit from dishonesty or negligence without consequence.
Abarbanel pays particular attention to the distinctions the Torah makes between different types of damages and responsibilities. Whether a person steals, borrows, safeguards, or rents an object, the Torah assigns a different level of liability. This structure reflects a deeper principle: justice must be precise. The law does not treat all cases alike, but considers the nature of the relationship, the intent of the parties, and the circumstances of the loss. In this way, the משפטים reflect a rational and balanced system, grounded in both logic and fairness.
The chapter then shifts from matters of property to matters of compassion and social ethics. Abarbanel emphasizes the Torah’s concern for the vulnerable: the convert, the widow, the orphan, and the poor borrower. The prohibition against afflicting them, he explains, reveals that the Torah’s legal system is not merely transactional. It is rooted in Divine compassion. Society must not only punish wrongdoing, but actively protect those who lack power and social support.
The laws of interest, pledges, and moral conduct reinforce this idea. Abarbanel explains that lending to the poor is meant to be an act of kindness, not exploitation. Charging interest in such a context would turn compassion into profit and would contradict the spirit of the covenant. Even when a pledge is taken, the Torah requires sensitivity, ensuring that the borrower is not deprived of what he needs to live with dignity.
Toward the end of the chapter, the Torah introduces laws that touch on reverence for authority and dedication to the Divine. Abarbanel explains that the commands not to curse judges or leaders, and the instructions regarding first fruits and firstborn offerings, connect the ethical and the sacred. Respect for authority and recognition of Divine sovereignty are essential foundations of the covenantal society.
Thus, Abarbanel presents Chapter 22 as a continuation of the משפטים’ central theme: a society built on responsibility, compassion, and reverence. The laws of property and finance are not isolated technical rules; they are expressions of a deeper moral order, one that reflects the justice and mercy of Hashem in the daily interactions between people.
Abarbanel explains pshat in 2 segments:
Abarbanel introduces this section with three questions.
Abarbanel explains that this section expands the commandment:
“לֹא תַעֲנֶה בְרֵעֲךָ עֵד שָׁקֶר”
“You shall not bear false witness against your fellow.”
This commandment does not apply only to testimony in court. It includes many behaviors that distort justice or truth.
The Torah therefore presents laws that apply to:
The verse states:
“לא תשא שמע שוא”
“You shall not accept a false report.”
This applies first to the litigant. He must not bring a false claim or spread a false report about his fellow, whether in court or outside of it. The Torah forbids initiating legal action based on lies.
The verse continues:
“אל תשת ידך עם רשע להיות עד חמס”
“Do not join your hand with the wicked to be a corrupt witness.”
This applies to the witness. He must not join with a wicked person to give false testimony. Even if he is not the primary liar, joining another in false testimony is forbidden.
The Torah then says:
“לא תהיה אחרי רבים לרעת”
“You shall not follow the majority for evil.”
This applies to the judge. He must not follow the majority in a corrupt decision, simply because most judges have ruled that way. If the majority is acting unjustly, he must not join them.
The Torah then continues:
“אחרי רבים להטות”
“After the majority to incline.”
This teaches the opposite principle: when the majority is ruling properly, the law follows the majority.
Thus, the Torah establishes a balanced principle:
The Torah adds:
“ודל לא תהדר בריבו”
“You shall not favor a poor man in his dispute.”
Abarbanel explains that a judge might feel compassion for a poor person and wish to rule in his favor out of mercy. The Torah forbids this. Justice must be based on truth, not on emotional sympathy.
Similarly, the Torah later warns:
“לא תטה משפט אביונך”
“You shall not pervert the judgment of your poor.”
This means:
The Torah then introduces the commandments:
“If you encounter your enemy’s ox or donkey wandering, you shall surely return it to him.
If you see the donkey of one who hates you crouching under its burden, you shall surely help with him.”
Abarbanel explains that these commandments are directed at a person who is assisting one side in a dispute, such as:
He might think:
“This person is my enemy. Why should I help him?”
The Torah teaches that even if someone is your enemy in a legal dispute, you must still:
This trains a person:
The Torah continues with additional warnings directed primarily at judges.
“מדבר שקר תרחק”
“Distance yourself from falsehood.”
Abarbanel explains that the Torah does not merely forbid lying. It commands the judge to distance himself from anything that might lead to falsehood. He must avoid:
The Torah also says:
“ונקי וצדיק אל תהרג”
“Do not kill the innocent and the righteous.”
This warns the judge:
The Torah states:
“ושחד לא תקח”
“You shall not take a bribe.”
Abarbanel explains that bribery blinds the eyes of the wise and distorts the words of the righteous. Even a wise and honest judge can become biased once he accepts a bribe.
Therefore:
The Torah concludes this section:
“וגר לא תלחץ”
“You shall not oppress the convert.”
Abarbanel explains that this refers to oppression in judgment. A convert is especially vulnerable:
Therefore, the Torah warns judges:
The Torah adds the reason:
“For you know the soul of the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”
Israel knows from experience:
Therefore, they must act with justice and compassion.
Abarbanel resolves the questions as follows:
Thus, the entire section forms a unified teaching about truth, fairness, and integrity in judgment.
After completing the section that expanded the commandment “Lo Ta’aneh,” Abarbanel explains that the Torah now returns to commandments included within the first tablet, particularly those relating to:
This section presents commandments that structure the sacred rhythm of Israel’s life—through time, land, speech, and worship.
The Torah begins:
“ושש שנים תזרע את ארצך ואספת את תבואתה. והשביעית תשמטנה ונטשתה…”
“Six years you shall sow your land and gather its produce. But in the seventh year you shall release it and abandon it…”
Abarbanel explains that this commandment is included within the commandment of Shabbos. Just as the individual rests on the seventh day, the land itself rests in the seventh year.
This reflects:
The Shemitah year teaches that:
The produce of the seventh year is left for:
This instills humility and generosity in the landowner.
The Torah then states:
“ששת ימים תעשה מעשיך וביום השביעי תשבת…”
“Six days you shall do your work, and on the seventh day you shall rest…”
Abarbanel explains that this repeats the commandment of Shabbos in the context of social justice.
The rest is not only for:
But also for:
The purpose is:
Thus, Shabbos becomes a universal day of relief and renewal.
The Torah then says:
“ובכל אשר אמרתי אליכם תשמרו”
“In all that I have said to you, you shall be careful.”
Abarbanel explains that this is a general command to observe all the mitzvos.
He adds that the verse continues:
“ושם אלהים אחרים לא תזכירו”
“And the name of other gods you shall not mention.”
This teaches:
This too belongs to the commandments of the first tablet, which concern the honor of Hashem.
The Torah then states:
“שלש רגלים תחג לי בשנה”
“Three times you shall celebrate for Me in the year.”
These are the three pilgrimage festivals:
Abarbanel explains their deeper meaning.
Pesach
Called:
“חג המצות”
“The festival of unleavened bread”
It commemorates:
Shavuos
Called:
“חג הקציר”
“The festival of harvest”
It marks:
Sukkos
Called:
“חג האסיף”
“The festival of ingathering”
It celebrates:
Together, these three festivals:
The Torah continues:
“שלש פעמים בשנה יראה כל זכורך אל פני האדון ה׳”
“Three times a year all your males shall appear before the Master, Hashem.”
Abarbanel explains that this commandment:
The Torah then gives three additional rules:
The section concludes:
“לא תבשל גדי בחלב אמו”
“You shall not cook a kid in its mother’s milk.”
Abarbanel explains that this prohibition also belongs to the sphere of holiness and rejection of idolatrous practices.
Some nations practiced such cooking in their rituals. The Torah forbids it, so that Israel’s conduct remains distinct and holy.
Abarbanel explains that all the commandments in this section belong to the commandments of the first tablet.
They teach:
Thus, after presenting the social and judicial commandments of the second tablet, the Torah returns to the covenantal and spiritual commandments of the first tablet, completing the structure of the Mishpatim.
This is the longest and most conceptually dense Abarbanel section in Parshas Mishpatim. Abarbanel explains pshat in 10 sections:
Why did Hashem say:
“הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי שֹׁלֵחַ מַלְאָךְ לְפָנֶיךָ”
“Behold, I am sending an angel before you”?
Earlier, Hashem had promised:
“וְשָׁלַחְתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ”
“I will send before you” (Exodus 23:27),
which implies that Hashem Himself would lead them.
Similarly, at the splitting of the sea, it states:
“וַיּוֹלֶךְ ה׳ אֶת הַיָּם”
“Hashem drove the sea” (Exodus 14:21),
and regarding the manna:
“הִנְנִי מַמְטִיר לָכֶם לֶחֶם מִן הַשָּׁמָיִם”
“Behold, I will rain bread from heaven for you” (Exodus 16:4).
In all these cases, Hashem acted directly, not through an angel.
So why here does Hashem say He will send an angel instead of leading them Himself?
The verse continues:
“הִשָּׁמֶר מִפָּנָיו וּשְׁמַע בְּקֹלוֹ”
“Be careful before him and listen to his voice.”
This implies that the angel would command the people and speak to them.
But the Torah states elsewhere:
“לֹא קָם נָבִיא עוֹד בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל כְּמֹשֶׁה”
“No prophet ever arose in Israel like Moshe” (Deuteronomy 34:10).
If the angel were speaking to the people with commands and prophecy, how could it be said that no prophet like Moshe arose? Would not the angel, who speaks directly to them, be equal or greater?
Furthermore, if the angel was to command them, why do we not find any instance in the Torah where the people prayed to this angel, sought forgiveness from him, or addressed him as a spiritual authority?
The verse also states:
“כִּי לֹא יִשָּׂא לְפִשְׁעֲכֶם”
“For he will not forgive your transgressions.”
This implies that:
Yet later, when the people sinned with the Golden Calf, Hashem said:
“וְעַתָּה לֵךְ נְחֵה אֶת הָעָם אֶל אֲשֶׁר דִּבַּרְתִּי לָךְ, הִנֵּה מַלְאָכִי יֵלֵךְ לְפָנֶיךָ”
“And now go, lead the people to where I told you; behold, My angel will go before you” (Exodus 32:34).
And again:
“וְשָׁלַחְתִּי לְפָנֶיךָ מַלְאָךְ”
“I will send an angel before you” (Exodus 33:2).
Moshe did not object to this statement. He did not say:
“Why an angel? You yourself should go.”
But later he did say:
“אִם אֵין פָּנֶיךָ הֹלְכִים אַל תַּעֲלֵנוּ מִזֶּה”
“If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here” (Exodus 33:15).
So the question is:
The verse states:
“כִּי שְׁמִי בְּקִרְבּוֹ”
“For My Name is within him.”
What does this mean?
If it refers to the angel:
If the angel truly contains the Divine Name:
On the other hand, if he is only an ordinary angel:
The verse repeats several times that Hashem will send an angel:
Why is this matter repeated so many times?
If the intention is to assure them of success in conquering the land, the Torah could have stated it once. Why does the text repeat:
What is the purpose of these repeated statements?
The Torah later says:
“וַיַּעַל מֹשֶׁה וְאַהֲרֹן… וַיִּרְאוּ אֵת אֱלֹקֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל”
“Moshe, Aharon, Nadav, and Avihu… went up, and they saw the G-d of Israel” (Exodus 24:9–10).
How can this be?
Earlier, the Torah states:
“כִּי לֹא יִרְאַנִי הָאָדָם וָחָי”
“For man shall not see Me and live” (Exodus 33:20).
And it also says:
“וְאֶל אֲצִילֵי בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לֹא שָׁלַח יָדוֹ”
“And upon the nobles of the Children of Israel He did not lay His hand” (Exodus 24:11),
which implies that they were deserving of punishment for what they saw.
So what exactly did they see?
The verses warn:
“לֹא תִשְׁתַּחֲוֶה לֵאלֹהֵיהֶם וְלֹא תָעָבְדֵם”
“You shall not bow to their gods, nor serve them” (Exodus 23:24).
But this warning seems unnecessary here.
The prohibition of idolatry was already given clearly in the Ten Commandments:
“לֹא תִשְׁתַּחֲוֶה לָהֶם וְלֹא תָעָבְדֵם”
“You shall not bow to them and you shall not serve them” (Exodus 20:5).
If so:
The verse promises:
“וַעֲבַדְתֶּם אֵת ה׳ אֱלֹקֵיכֶם, וּבֵרַךְ אֶת לַחְמְךָ וְאֶת מֵימֶיךָ”
“You shall serve Hashem your G-d, and He will bless your bread and your water” (Exodus 23:25).
What is the meaning of this blessing?
Also, why are only bread and water mentioned?
The verse states:
“לֹא תִהְיֶה מְשַׁכֵּלָה וַעֲקָרָה בְּאַרְצֶךָ”
“There shall be no miscarrying or barren woman in your land” (Exodus 23:26).
Why does the Torah mention these two specific conditions?
If the intention is to promise general blessing and prosperity, it could have said:
Why does it single out:
What is the special significance of these particular blessings?
The Torah states:
“אֶת אֵימָתִי אֲשַׁלַּח לְפָנֶיךָ”
“My terror I will send before you” (Exodus 23:27).
What is this “terror”?
And how does this “terror” differ from the angel mentioned earlier?
If the angel is already being sent before them, why is there a need to send a separate “terror” as well?
The Torah says:
“וְשָׁלַחְתִּי אֶת הַצִּרְעָה לְפָנֶיךָ”
“I will send the hornet before you” (Exodus 23:28).
What is this “hornet”?
If it is literal, how could insects alone defeat mighty nations and drive them from the land?
And if it is metaphorical, what exactly does it represent?
The Torah concludes this section by saying:
“לֹא אֲגָרְשֶׁנּוּ מִפָּנֶיךָ בְּשָׁנָה אֶחָת”
“I will not drive them out from before you in one year” (Exodus 23:29).
Instead, the conquest will be gradual, “little by little.”
Why was this necessary?
If Hashem was already promising:
Then why not remove the nations all at once?
Why was a slow, gradual conquest required, rather than an immediate and complete victory?
Abarbanel now begins the main explanation that resolves the twelve questions. He opens with a fundamental theological principle concerning Divine providence over the nations of the world.
Abarbanel explains that the Torah and the prophets teach that the Holy One, blessed be He, governs the world through an ordered system.
The world is not governed randomly, nor is every nation treated identically. Instead, there is a distinction between:
According to Abarbanel, the nations of the world are governed through ministering angels. Each nation has:
This is hinted at in the verse:
“בְּהַנְחֵל עֶלְיוֹן גּוֹיִם… הִצֵּב גְּבֻלֹת עַמִּים לְמִסְפַּר בְּנֵי אֵל”
“When the Most High gave the nations their inheritance… He set the borders of the peoples according to the number of the children of G-d” (Deuteronomy 32:8).
Each nation, therefore, is governed:
This system allows for:
Israel, however, is different.
The Torah states:
“כִּי חֵלֶק ה׳ עַמּוֹ, יַעֲקֹב חֶבֶל נַחֲלָתוֹ”
“For Hashem’s portion is His people; Yaakov is the lot of His inheritance” (Deuteronomy 32:9).
This teaches that:
While other nations receive influence through intermediaries, Israel is:
This is part of their unique covenantal relationship.
This distinction also applies to the Land of Israel.
Other lands are governed:
But the Land of Israel is different. It is described as:
“אֶרֶץ אֲשֶׁר ה׳ אֱלֹקֶיךָ דֹּרֵשׁ אֹתָהּ תָּמִיד”
“A land which Hashem your G-d seeks; the eyes of Hashem your G-d are always upon it” (Deuteronomy 11:12).
This means:
Therefore:
are both under direct Divine providence.
With this principle in mind, Abarbanel returns to the verse:
“Behold, I am sending an angel before you.”
If Israel is meant to be governed:
Then why is an angel being sent before them?
This is the central issue behind the questions raised earlier. The remainder of the explanation will show:
Abarbanel continues his explanation by clarifying the distinction between Israel and the other nations, and how this explains the sending of the angel.
As explained, the nations of the world are governed through angelic ministers, each appointed over a specific people. Through these intermediaries, Divine influence flows to them.
Israel, however, is different.
They are described as:
“חֵלֶק ה׳ עַמּוֹ”
“Hashem’s portion is His people.”
This means:
This distinction is part of their covenantal identity. They are:
The same principle applies to the Land of Israel.
Other lands are governed through:
But the Land of Israel is different. It is:
Therefore, when Israel dwells in their land:
However, at the time of this passage, Israel was not yet in the Land of Israel. They were:
Because these territories were:
Israel could not yet experience the full form of their special relationship with Hashem.
For this reason, Hashem tells them:
“Behold, I am sending an angel before you, to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared.”
The angel’s role is:
In the wilderness:
Therefore:
Once they entered the land:
This answers the first question: Why does Hashem say He will send an angel, when elsewhere He Himself leads Israel?
The answer is:
This was:
Abarbanel now explains the angel in the wilderness mentioned in the verse and clarifies why Moshe did not initially object to this arrangement.
The angel mentioned here was not meant to be:
Rather, he was appointed only:
Once Israel entered the land:
Thus, the angel’s role was:
This explanation resolves the earlier question: why did Moshe not object when Hashem first said that an angel would go before them?
At this stage:
Therefore:
However, after the sin of the Golden Calf, Hashem again said:
“I will send an angel before you.”
This time, the meaning was different.
Now it implied:
This was a punishment for the sin.
Therefore, Moshe objected and said:
“If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here.”
Moshe understood that:
So his protest was not against the angel in general, but against:
Abarbanel emphasizes that this angel was not:
Rather, he was:
He functioned like:
But the king himself—the Divine Presence—remained the true ruler of Israel.
This explanation also resolves the third question:
Why did Moshe not object at first, but object later?
Because:
Therefore, Moshe accepted the first arrangement but rejected the second.
Abarbanel now turns to explain the essential nature of the angel mentioned in the verse:
“הִנֵּה אָנֹכִי שֹׁלֵחַ מַלְאָךְ לְפָנֶיךָ”
“Behold, I am sending an angel before you.”
This explanation resolves the questions concerning:
This angel is not like the celestial ministers appointed over the other nations.
The angels of the nations:
But the angel sent before Israel:
Israel remains:
Abarbanel further explains that not all intermediaries are alike. Some are spiritual intelligences, possessing awareness and authority, appointed to govern nations. Others are merely instrumental forces, like natural agents, which act without will or understanding. The angel sent before Israel belongs to the first category, a conscious messenger acting by Divine command, yet he is not a national ruler like the angels assigned to the other peoples.
This angel is instead:
This is why the verse says:
“כִּי שְׁמִי בְּקִרְבּוֹ”
“For My Name is within him.”
Abarbanel explains that this does not mean:
Rather, it means:
Just as a royal messenger speaks in the name of the king, so too:
The Torah commands:
“הִשָּׁמֶר מִפָּנָיו וּשְׁמַע בְּקֹלוֹ”
“Be careful before him and listen to his voice.”
This does not elevate the angel to the level of a prophet like Moshe.
Moshe:
But this angel:
Therefore, the Torah warns Israel:
The verse continues:
“כִּי לֹא יִשָּׂא לְפִשְׁעֲכֶם”
“For he will not forgive your transgression.”
Abarbanel explains that this does not mean:
Rather:
Unlike Hashem, who is:
The angel:
Therefore, Israel is warned:
This explanation resolves the second question:
If the angel commands Israel, does that not contradict the uniqueness of Moshe’s prophecy?
The answer is:
Therefore:
This also clarifies the meaning of:
“For My Name is within him.”
It does not imply divinity within the angel, but:
Thus, the warning to obey him is understood properly.
This also clarifies the vision described later, as it relates to the angelic manifestation rather than direct perception of the Divine Essence.
Abarbanel now turns to explain the verse:
“הִשָּׁמֶר מִפָּנָיו וּשְׁמַע בְּקֹלוֹ, אַל תַּמֵּר בּוֹ”
“Be careful before him and listen to his voice; do not rebel against him” (Exodus 23:21).
This command must be understood in light of the nature of the angel that was previously explained.
The warning:
“Do not rebel against him”
does not refer to rebellion against the angel as an independent authority.
Rather, it means:
Because:
Therefore, rebelling against him is equivalent to:
The verse continues:
“כִּי לֹא יִשָּׂא לְפִשְׁעֲכֶם”
“For he will not forgive your transgression.”
Abarbanel explains that this is not because the angel has independent authority to punish or forgive.
Rather:
If Israel rebels:
This is unlike the Holy One, blessed be He, who is:
The angel, however:
Therefore, the Torah warns:
One might think:
“This is only an angel, a messenger.
He is not Hashem Himself.
Perhaps we need not fear him as much.”
Therefore, the Torah emphasizes:
And if Israel rebels against him:
This explanation continues the resolution of the earlier questions:
The answer is:
Therefore, Israel is warned to obey him completely.
Abarbanel now explains the verses that describe the conquest of the land and the defeat of the nations. These verses appear to repeat several promises of victory, and this raises one of the earlier questions: why does the Torah repeat these assurances multiple times?
The Torah says:
“כִּי יֵלֵךְ מַלְאָכִי לְפָנֶיךָ”
“For My angel will go before you…” (Exodus 23:23)
But Abarbanel explains that the angel’s role is not to conquer the land itself.
As previously stated:
The conquest of the land will occur:
This fits the earlier principle:
Therefore, once Israel enters the land:
The Torah repeats several assurances:
Abarbanel explains that these are not repetitions of the same idea. Rather, they describe different stages and aspects of the conquest.
The angel goes before Israel:
This is the angel’s primary function.
Once Israel reaches the land, Hashem says:
“I will cut them off.”
This refers to:
This is not the work of the angel, but of Hashem Himself.
The verse says:
“I will send My terror before you.”
This refers to:
Before Israel even engages in battle, their enemies will be weakened by fear.
The Torah then says:
“I will send the hornet before you.”
Abarbanel explains that this refers to:
This is another stage in the process of conquest, distinct from:
Abarbanel explains that the Torah lists these elements separately because they represent:
Together, they form a complete picture of the conquest:
This explains why the verses repeat these ideas. They are not redundant; they are describing distinct phases of the same process.
This explanation resolves the earlier question:
Why does the Torah repeat the promises of the angel, the terror, and the defeat of the nations?
Because:
Thus, the repetition reflects structure, not redundancy.
With this explanation, the meaning of the terror and the hornet is also clarified, as they represent distinct stages in the Divine process of conquest.
Abarbanel now explains the warning that appears in the middle of the passage:
“לֹא תִשְׁתַּחֲוֶה לֵאלֹהֵיהֶם וְלֹא תָעָבְדֵם… כִּי הָרֵס תְּהָרְסֵם”
“You shall not bow to their gods nor serve them… but you shall utterly destroy them” (Exodus 23:24).
This raises one of the earlier questions: why is the prohibition of idolatry repeated here, when it was already clearly stated in the Ten Commandments?
Abarbanel explains that this is not a mere repetition of the prohibition against idolatry. Rather, it is a warning tied specifically to the conquest of the land.
When Israel enters the land, they will encounter:
Living among such practices creates a great danger:
Therefore, the Torah places this warning here, at the moment when Israel is being promised entry into the land.
Abarbanel explains that the warning is connected to the role of the angel.
Since the angel is sent:
The Torah warns them:
If they were to serve those gods:
Thus, the warning is placed here to show the condition of the promise.
The verse continues:
“כִּי הָרֵס תְּהָרְסֵם, וְשַׁבֵּר תְּשַׁבֵּר מַצֵּבֹתֵיהֶם”
“You shall utterly destroy them, and you shall break their pillars.”
This teaches that the conquest is not only:
It is also:
Therefore, the destruction of idolatry is:
Immediately after the warning, the Torah states:
“וַעֲבַדְתֶּם אֵת ה׳ אֱלֹקֵיכֶם, וּבֵרַךְ אֶת לַחְמְךָ וְאֶת מֵימֶיךָ”
“You shall serve Hashem your G-d, and He will bless your bread and your water.”
Abarbanel explains that this shows:
If they abandon idolatry and serve Hashem alone:
But if they follow the gods of the nations:
This explanation resolves the earlier question:
Why is the prohibition of idolatry repeated here?
Because:
Thus, the placement of the commandment here is deliberate and essential to the flow of the passage.
Abarbanel now explains the blessings promised in the verses that follow the warning against idolatry. These blessings are not random or repetitive; they are organized into four distinct categories of Divine favor.
The Torah states:
“וַעֲבַדְתֶּם אֵת ה׳ אֱלֹקֵיכֶם, וּבֵרַךְ אֶת לַחְמְךָ וְאֶת מֵימֶיךָ, וַהֲסִרֹתִי מַחֲלָה מִקִּרְבֶּךָ.
לֹא תִהְיֶה מְשַׁכֵּלָה וַעֲקָרָה בְּאַרְצֶךָ; אֶת מִסְפַּר יָמֶיךָ אֲמַלֵּא.”
“You shall serve Hashem your G-d, and He will bless your bread and your water, and I will remove sickness from your midst.
There shall be no miscarrying or barren woman in your land; the number of your days I will fulfill.” (Exodus 23:25–26)
Abarbanel explains that these verses promise four fundamental forms of blessing.
The first blessing is:
“He will bless your bread and your water, and I will remove sickness from your midst.”
This refers to:
Even the simplest foods—bread and water—will be:
And illness will be removed from among them. This is the blessing of:
The Torah continues:
“There shall be no miscarrying or barren woman in your land.”
This refers to:
Abarbanel explains that this addresses two great human fears:
The promise is that:
This is the blessing of:
The verse concludes:
“The number of your days I will fulfill.”
This refers to:
Each person will live:
This is the blessing of:
Earlier in the passage, the Torah had promised:
Abarbanel explains that these promises constitute the fourth category of blessing:
This includes:
Abarbanel summarizes that the Torah promises four fundamental blessings that encompass the full scope of human well-being:
These correspond to the primary human aspirations:
This explanation resolves the earlier questions:
Why mention only bread and water?
Because the Torah is speaking of the most basic elements of sustenance. If even these are blessed, all food will be blessed.
Why mention miscarriage and barrenness specifically?
Because these represent the greatest fears regarding family continuity. Their removal represents complete blessing in the realm of children.
Thus, the blessings are not random details, but a structured and comprehensive promise of well-being.
Abarbanel now explains the final verses of the section, which describe the gradual conquest of the land and the boundaries that Israel will inherit.
The Torah states:
“לֹא אֲגָרְשֶׁנּוּ מִפָּנֶיךָ בְּשָׁנָה אֶחָת, פֶּן תִּהְיֶה הָאָרֶץ שְׁמָמָה, וְרַבָּה עָלֶיךָ חַיַּת הַשָּׂדֶה.
מְעַט מְעַט אֲגָרְשֶׁנּוּ מִפָּנֶיךָ, עַד אֲשֶׁר תִּפְרֶה וְנָחַלְתָּ אֶת הָאָרֶץ.”
“I will not drive them out from before you in one year, lest the land become desolate and the beasts of the field multiply against you.
Little by little I will drive them out from before you, until you increase and inherit the land.” (Exodus 23:29–30)
This verse addresses the final question: why would the conquest not occur all at once, if Hashem was already promising:
Abarbanel explains that the conquest could not be immediate, for practical and providential reasons.
If the nations were expelled suddenly:
Since Israel at that time was:
The result would be:
Therefore, the conquest had to occur:
The Torah says:
“Until you increase and inherit the land.”
This teaches that:
Thus:
The Torah then describes the borders of the land:
“וְשַׁתִּי אֶת גְּבֻלְךָ מִיַּם סוּף וְעַד יָם פְּלִשְׁתִּים, וּמִמִּדְבָּר עַד הַנָּהָר”
“I will set your border from the Sea of Reeds to the Sea of the Philistines, and from the wilderness to the river” (Exodus 23:31).
This refers to:
This promise reflects:
But this expansion is also conditional upon:
The passage concludes with a final warning:
“לֹא תִכְרֹת לָהֶם וְלֵאלֹהֵיהֶם בְּרִית”
“You shall not make a covenant with them or with their gods.”
And:
“לֹא יֵשְׁבוּ בְאַרְצְךָ, פֶּן יַחֲטִיאוּ אֹתְךָ לִי”
“They shall not dwell in your land, lest they cause you to sin against Me.”
Abarbanel explains that this is the ultimate condition of the entire promise.
If Israel were to:
Then:
Thus, the conquest is not merely political or military. It is:
This explanation resolves the final question:
Why would the conquest be gradual instead of immediate?
Because:
Therefore, Hashem decreed:
With this final explanation, Abarbanel completes the resolution of the twelve questions.
The passage now forms a unified structure:
Thus, the entire section describes:
All under the direct providence of Hashem.
In Chapter 23, Abarbanel explains that the Torah moves from the laws of property and personal responsibility into the broader structure of justice, national life, and Divine providence. The opening verses focus on the integrity of the judicial system. The prohibitions against false reports, perverted testimony, and bias in favor of either the poor or the powerful establish a fundamental principle: justice must be rooted in truth alone. Abarbanel emphasizes that the Torah rejects both cruelty and misplaced compassion. Judges may not favor the rich out of fear, nor the poor out of pity. The standard of judgment must be objective righteousness, reflecting the Divine attribute of justice itself.
He also highlights the laws commanding kindness even toward one’s enemy, such as returning a lost animal or helping to unload a burden. These laws demonstrate that the Torah seeks to refine the human heart, not merely regulate outward behavior. Justice is not limited to the courtroom; it extends into everyday interactions, where a person is called upon to overcome resentment and act with moral responsibility.
The chapter then turns to the sanctification of time through the festivals and the Sabbatical year. Abarbanel explains that these laws teach the people to recognize Hashem’s sovereignty over both land and time. The Sabbatical year reminds Israel that the land ultimately belongs to Hashem, while the festivals draw the nation together in collective remembrance of their relationship with Him. Through these cycles, Israel learns that prosperity, harvest, and national stability all flow from Divine providence.
Abarbanel devotes the longest and most philosophical portion of his commentary to the passage describing the angel who will guide Israel to the Land. He explains that the nations of the world are governed through angelic intermediaries, each appointed over a particular people or region. Israel, however, is unique. They are described as “Hashem’s portion,” meaning they are not assigned to any celestial minister. Instead, they are governed directly by Hashem, especially when they dwell in the Land of Israel.
The sending of the angel, therefore, was not a permanent arrangement, nor a replacement of Divine leadership. It was a temporary measure for the wilderness journey, when Israel traveled through territories under the jurisdiction of other nations and their spiritual powers. The angel was a guide and protector, not a ruler. This distinction explains why Moshe did not object at first to the promise of an angel, but later protested when, after the sin of the Golden Calf, the angel was meant to replace the direct Divine presence.
Abarbanel also explains the stages of the conquest of the Land. The terror sent before Israel, the hornet, and the gradual expulsion of the nations all represent different phases of the Divine strategy. The conquest would not occur in a single moment, but through a measured process, allowing the land to remain stable and inhabited. This gradual approach reflects Divine wisdom, ensuring that the land would not become desolate or overrun by wild animals before Israel was ready to settle it fully.
Throughout Chapter 23, Abarbanel weaves together themes of justice, compassion, national destiny, and Divine governance. The laws of the courts, the festivals, and the angelic guidance all point to a single idea: Israel is meant to live under the direct rule of Hashem, in a society where justice reflects His will and the rhythms of time and land express His sovereignty.
Abarbanel explains pshat in 3 segments:
Abarbanel opens his commentary on this section by addressing a major chronological question: when was the command given:
“וְאֶל מֹשֶׁה אָמַר, עֲלֵה אֶל ה׳”
“And to Moshe He said: Ascend to Hashem” (Exodus 24:1)?
Was this spoken before the Ten Commandments, or afterward?
Abarbanel notes a disagreement between the commentators.
Some of the French sages held that this command was given:
According to this view, the ascent of Moshe, Aharon, Nadav, Avihu, and the seventy elders was:
However, the sages of Spain held differently. They maintained that:
According to this view, the events of chapter 24 are:
Abarbanel explains that the correct understanding follows the second opinion. He reconstructs the sequence of events as follows:
At that point:
Only after this covenantal acceptance does the Torah state:
“And to Moshe He said: Ascend to Hashem.”
Abarbanel explains that the verse:
“And to Moshe He said: Ascend to Hashem”
is not describing something that occurred earlier. Rather, it is:
The sequence is:
This ascent is therefore:
However, this verse introduces a new difficulty.
The text says:
“And to Moshe He said: Ascend to Hashem.”
If Hashem is speaking, why does the verse say:
“Ascend to Hashem”
instead of
“Ascend to Me”?
This linguistic difficulty leads into the next part of Abarbanel’s discussion.
Abarbanel now turns to the meaning of the verse:
“וְאֶל מֹשֶׁה אָמַר, עֲלֵה אֶל ה׳”
“And to Moshe He said: Ascend to Hashem” (Exodus 24:1).
This wording raises a major question:
If Hashem is speaking, why does the verse say, “Ascend to Hashem,” rather than “Ascend to Me”?
Abarbanel cites a Midrash that explains the verse in a surprising way.
According to this view:
This explains the unusual wording:
Abarbanel rejects this interpretation.
He argues that:
He explains that the command:
“And to Moshe He said: Ascend to Hashem”
is a continuation of the earlier passage in which the angel was speaking to Moshe.
In other words:
This preserves:
According to Abarbanel, the meaning is as follows:
After the angel completed his instructions regarding the conquest and settlement of the land, he also told Moshe:
Thus, the command to ascend was:
The Torah then describes the covenant ceremony.
Moshe:
The people responded:
“All the words that Hashem has spoken, we will do.”
Moshe then:
Moshe sent young men of Israel to offer:
He then:
Afterward, he read the Book of the Covenant to the people.
They responded again:
“כֹּל אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר ה׳ נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע”
“All that Hashem has spoken, we will do and we will hear.”
Moshe then:
And declared:
“Behold the blood of the covenant that Hashem has made with you.”
This act:
After the covenant was completed, Moshe ascended the mountain together with:
This ascent fulfilled the earlier command:
“Ascend to Hashem.”
Abarbanel explains that this ascent had two major purposes.
First purpose: Gratitude for the Torah
The leaders ascended:
This was a spiritual act of:
Second purpose: To prevent angel-worship
The ascent also had a deeper theological purpose.
Since the earlier passage had spoken of:
There was a danger that the people might think:
Therefore, the leaders were brought up:
This would teach them:
This leads into the next part of Abarbanel’s explanation:
the nature of the vision seen by the elders.
Abarbanel now turns to the most difficult part of the passage: the vision experienced by Moshe, Aharon, Nadav, Avihu, and the seventy elders.
The Torah states:
“וַיִּרְאוּ אֵת אֱלֹקֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל”
“And they saw the G-d of Israel” (Exodus 24:10).
This verse raises profound theological and philosophical questions.
Some commentators suggested that the elders sinned by attempting to perceive the Divine in an improper way. Abarbanel rejects this interpretation.
He argues:
This means:
If they had sinned:
Abarbanel explains that the vision served an important purpose.
As described earlier, one of the reasons for the ascent was:
Therefore, the leaders were granted a vision that demonstrated:
To explain the meaning of the vision, Abarbanel presents a philosophical framework of three levels of creation.
First level: The world of intellects
This is:
This world is:
Second level: The world of the spheres
Below the world of intellects is:
This realm:
Third level: The lower, physical world
This is:
It is:
Abarbanel explains that the Holy One, blessed be He, exercises direct governance over three corresponding elements:
This means:
This reinforces the earlier teaching:
The Torah describes the vision as:
“וְתַחַת רַגְלָיו, כְּמַעֲשֵׂה לִבְנַת הַסַּפִּיר”
“And under His feet was like the work of a sapphire brick.”
Abarbanel explains that this is not a literal physical form.
Rather, it symbolizes:
The “sapphire brick” represents:
The verse continues:
“וּכְעֶצֶם הַשָּׁמַיִם לָטֹהַר”
“Like the essence of the heavens in purity.”
This expression emphasizes:
The elders were shown:
The Torah emphasizes:
“וְאֶל אֲצִילֵי בְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל לֹא שָׁלַח יָדוֹ”
“And upon the nobles of the Children of Israel He did not lay His hand.”
This teaches:
They experienced:
The verse concludes:
“וַיֶּאֱכְלוּ וַיִּשְׁתּוּ”
“And they ate and drank.”
Some commentators understood this negatively, as if they treated the vision casually. Abarbanel rejects this.
He explains that:
This was not a sign of irreverence, but:
According to Abarbanel, the elders did not see:
Rather, they saw:
This vision taught them:
Thus, the ascent and the vision served as:
Abarbanel explains the verse:
“וַיֹּאמֶר ה׳ אֶל מֹשֶׁה, עֲלֵה אֵלַי הָהָרָה וֶהְיֵה שָׁם”
“And Hashem said to Moshe: Ascend to Me to the mountain and be there” (Exodus 24:12).
He begins by contrasting Moshe’s experience with that of the elders.
The Torah had just stated that Hashem did not stretch out His hand against the nobles of Israel. Abarbanel explains that:
Therefore:
But with Moshe, it was different.
Hashem:
This is the meaning of:
“Ascend to Me to the mountain.”
Moshe alone, as the master of prophets, was invited into the deepest level of Divine closeness.
Abarbanel explains that the phrase:
“וֶהְיֵה שָׁם” — “and be there”
contains three distinct intentions.
Hashem was informing Moshe that:
Such perfection required:
This is why Moshe later told the elders:
“Wait here for us until we return,”
because he understood that his stay would be prolonged.
The sages explain that Moshe was told explicitly:
The phrase “and be there” also implies:
While on the mountain, Moshe would:
Thus:
“and be there” means not only to remain there, but:
In addition to his personal perfection, Moshe would also receive:
The verse continues:
“And I will give you the stone tablets, and the Torah and the commandment that I have written to teach them.”
Abarbanel explains:
The phrase:
“which I have written”
refers to the tablets:
The phrase:
“to teach them”
refers to the Oral Torah:
Abarbanel adds that the Divine wisdom chose to write the principles of the commandments:
This teaches that:
Just as words engraved in stone endure, so too:
The verse continues:
“וַיָּקָם מֹשֶׁה וִיהוֹשֻׁעַ מְשָׁרְתוֹ”
“And Moshe rose, and Yehoshua his servant.”
Abarbanel explains:
So Moshe himself:
Yehoshua:
This is why, when Moshe later descended, the Torah says:
“Yehoshua heard the sound of the people.”
He had remained there the entire time.
Abarbanel adds that there is no need to ask:
Because:
Before ascending, Moshe told the elders:
“Wait here for us until we return.”
This was to warn them:
This time:
Out of respect for them, Moshe instructed:
For difficult cases, he said:
“Aharon and Hur are with you; whoever has a matter shall approach them.”
Abarbanel notes that:
The Torah states:
“When Moshe ascended the mountain, the cloud covered the mountain… and it covered it for six days.”
Abarbanel explains:
The Torah clarifies:
“The appearance of the glory of Hashem was like a consuming fire.”
It appeared like fire:
But to Moshe:
Therefore:
The sages debated:
Abarbanel explains that it covered Moshe:
The reason:
From the seventh day onward:
Therefore:
The sages teach that Moshe spent these six days in separation and preparation, and from here they derived:
• Anyone entering the Divine Presence requires six days of preparation.
But why was this necessary now, and not at the giving of the Ten Commandments?
Abarbanel gives four reasons:
Because of the depth and duration of this experience, greater preparation was required.
During these forty days:
Through this:
His soul’s relation to his body became like:
From that point onward:
This explains:
His death, therefore:
This is the meaning of:
“He died by the mouth of Hashem”
—by Divine decree, not by natural decay.
From this, the sages concluded:
Even though Moshe was greater than all others:
Therefore:
Six days were sufficient for Moshe’s supreme experience, and likewise:
Thus, the principle of six days’ preparation applies universally.
Abarbanel explains pshat in 4 segments
Abarbanel begins his explanation of Moshe’s forty days on the mountain by presenting the first cause for this extended period of separation.
He explains that the Torah states:
“וּמַרְאֵה כְּבוֹד ה׳ כְּאֵשׁ אֹכֶלֶת בְּרֹאשׁ הָהָר”
“And the appearance of the glory of Hashem was like a consuming fire at the top of the mountain” (Exodus 24:17).
This verse introduces the period during which Moshe would remain on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.
Abarbanel explains that the first cause relates to:
Human beings are composed of:
Because of this union:
Even the greatest prophet:
Moshe was about to receive:
To receive such knowledge:
This required a process of transformation.
Abarbanel explains that the number forty corresponds to a natural process:
During this period:
So too with Moshe:
This period functioned like:
At the end of the forty days:
He had acquired:
This transformation allowed him:
The number forty was therefore not arbitrary.
It was:
So too:
Only after this transformation:
This is the first cause of the forty days on the mountain:
Abarbanel now presents the second cause for Moshe’s forty days on the mountain. While the first cause related to the nature of the prophet himself, this second cause relates to:
Moshe was not merely receiving the tablets. He was being granted:
For this reason, the period of forty days corresponds to the totality of existence itself.
Abarbanel explains that all of existence can be divided into four primary realms, each containing ten categories of knowledge.
Together, they form the full structure of creation.
First Realm: The Lower Physical World
The first realm is:
This world includes:
Abarbanel explains that this realm can be understood through ten primary categories, which encompass all physical existence.
Second Realm: The Celestial World
Above the physical world is:
This realm governs:
It too contains:
Third Realm: The World of Intellects
Above the celestial realm is:
This realm is:
It also contains:
Fourth Realm: The Divine Emanations
Above all created realms is the level of:
Abarbanel describes this level in terms of:
These are:
Abarbanel explains that the forty days correspond to these four realms:
For a total of 40 Days
Thus:
Only after completing this full cycle of knowledge:
Abarbanel emphasizes that:
This teaches that:
Moshe therefore received:
Because:
The forty days therefore represent:
Moshe’s forty days on the mountain were:
This is the second cause for the forty days:
Abarbanel now presents the third cause for Moshe’s forty days on the mountain. While the first cause concerned Moshe’s transformation, and the second concerned the scope of his knowledge, this third cause concerns:
Abarbanel explains that the human body is composed of:
• Four fundamental elements
These elements form:
Because of this material composition:
The Torah, by contrast, was given in:
These ten commandments:
Thus, the human being consists of:
And the Torah consists of:
Abarbanel explains that each of the four elements required:
Through these ten-day stages:
Thus:
For a total of 40 Days.
Over these forty days:
Abarbanel now addresses another question:
Why did Moshe remain on the mountain for forty days on later occasions as well?
He offers two explanations.
First explanation: Restoration of the lost level
During the first forty days:
But after the sin of the Golden Calf:
Therefore:
Second explanation: The spiritual power of the number forty
Abarbanel adds another idea.
The number forty became:
From this came:
Thus, the repetition of forty-day periods reflects:
This leads to the third cause of Moshe’s forty days:
The forty days represent:
Abarbanel now concludes his explanation by returning to the earlier subject of the angel and the Divine presence among Israel. He explains how Moshe’s forty days on the mountain relate to the shift from an angelic guide to the command to build the Mishkan.
Earlier in the parsha, Hashem had said:
“Behold, I am sending an angel before you, to guard you on the way and to bring you to the place that I have prepared.”
This indicated that:
As Abarbanel explained previously:
However, after:
A new Divine plan emerged.
Instead of:
Hashem chose:
This is the meaning of the command that follows in the Torah:
“וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ, וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם”
“And they shall make for Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them” (Exodus 25:8).
The Mishkan represents:
Thus, the command to build the Mishkan:
But this elevated state did not endure.
After the sin of the Golden Calf:
As a result:
Hashem again said:
Moshe understood the implications of this.
He prayed:
“If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here.”
Moshe sought:
Through his prayer:
With this explanation, Abarbanel resolves the final difficulties raised in the earlier section about the angel.
The sequence now becomes clear:
Thus:
They reflect:
Abarbanel concludes that this final section:
The end of Parshas Mishpatim therefore serves as:
Abarbanel explains that Chapter 24 forms the covenantal climax of Parshas Mishpatim. After the Ten Commandments and the civil laws, the Torah now describes the formal acceptance of the covenant and Moshe’s ascent to the mountain. He begins by addressing the chronological question of when the command “Ascend to Hashem” was given. Abarbanel sides with the opinion that this occurred after the Ten Commandments and the laws of משפטים were delivered, not before. The sequence, according to his reconstruction, is that Israel heard the revelation at Sinai, received the civil laws, accepted them with the declaration “נעשה ונשמע,” and only then were Moshe and the elders invited to ascend.
He then explains the covenant ceremony itself. Moshe recounts the words of Hashem to the people, writes the covenant, builds an altar, and offers sacrifices. The blood is divided—half sprinkled on the altar and half on the people—symbolizing the bond between Hashem and Israel. The people’s declaration of “We will do and we will hear” expresses their full acceptance of the Divine law. The ascent of Moshe, Aharon, Nadav, Avihu, and the seventy elders follows this covenant, serving as an act of gratitude and a confirmation of the bond between Israel and Hashem.
Abarbanel devotes special attention to the vision experienced by the elders. He rejects the view that they sinned or acted improperly. The Torah explicitly states that no harm came to them, indicating that their experience was a legitimate prophetic vision. He explains the vision through a philosophical framework of three levels of existence: the world of intellects, the celestial spheres, and the physical world. Just as Hashem directly governs the highest intellect and the highest sphere, so too He governs the nation of Israel directly. The imagery of the sapphire pavement and the purity of the heavens symbolizes the clarity and order of the celestial realm, not a literal physical form of the Divine.
Moshe’s ascent alone to the summit of the mountain marks a further stage. Abarbanel explains that the command “Ascend to Me and be there” contained several intentions. Moshe was to remain on the mountain for an extended period, undergo a spiritual transformation, and receive the Torah for Israel. During this time, he was elevated beyond ordinary human limitations, sustained by the Divine Presence rather than physical nourishment. This process refined his nature and prepared him to receive the deepest wisdom of the Torah.
Abarbanel then offers a philosophical explanation for the forty days on the mountain. He presents three causes. First, Moshe required a transformation of his nature, much like the forty days of human formation in the womb, so that his intellect could attain a higher spiritual state. Second, the forty days corresponded to the total structure of existence—four realms, each containing ten categories of knowledge—so that Moshe would acquire complete understanding before receiving the tablets. Third, the forty days represented the subduing of the four physical elements within the human body, each over ten days, allowing the intellect to rise above material limitations.
Finally, Abarbanel returns to the earlier discussion of the angel. He explains that the original plan for Israel in the wilderness involved angelic guidance, but after the covenant and Moshe’s ascent, Hashem intended to dwell directly among them through the Mishkan. The sin of the Golden Calf disrupted this state, leading again to the idea of angelic leadership, until Moshe’s prayers restored the direct Divine presence. In this way, Chapter 24 serves as a bridge between the covenant at Sinai and the command to build the Mishkan, where Hashem’s presence would dwell among Israel.
Abarbanel’s commentary on Parshas Mishpatim presents the parsha as a unified progression from revelation to law, from law to covenant, and from covenant to Divine indwelling. The civil laws of the opening chapters are not mere social regulations; they are the concrete expression of the revelation at Sinai. Through the laws of servants, damages, property, and compassion for the vulnerable, the Torah shapes a society grounded in justice, dignity, and moral responsibility. These משפטים translate the lofty principles of the Ten Commandments into the structure of everyday life.
As the parsha progresses, Abarbanel broadens the perspective from social ethics to national destiny and Divine governance. The laws of justice and the festivals teach that both the courtroom and the calendar must reflect Hashem’s sovereignty. The long section concerning the angel reveals Israel’s unique status among the nations: while other peoples are governed through celestial intermediaries, Israel stands under the direct providence of Hashem, especially in the Land of Israel. The angel’s role in the wilderness is temporary and practical, not a replacement for Divine leadership.
The final chapter brings these themes to their philosophical conclusion. The covenant ceremony seals Israel’s acceptance of the Torah, and Moshe’s ascent represents the transformation required to receive the deepest Divine wisdom. His forty days on the mountain reflect a process of spiritual gestation, intellectual ascent through all levels of existence, and purification of the physical nature. This transformation prepares the way for the next stage of the Torah narrative: the construction of the Mishkan, where the Divine presence will dwell among Israel.
Thus, in Abarbanel’s reading, Parshas Mishpatim is not simply a legal code. It is the bridge between Sinai and the sanctuary, between revelation and daily life, between Divine transcendence and Divine presence within the community of Israel. Through justice, covenant, and spiritual transformation, the parsha lays the foundation for a nation that lives under the direct rule of Hashem.
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The Foundation of Avodas Hashem: Law, Character, and Joy
Rav Avigdor Miller approaches Parshas Mishpatim with a striking and consistent insight: the highest levels of Torah life are built upon the simplest and most practical obligations between man and his fellow. After the thunder, fire, and revelation of Har Sinai, one might have expected the Torah to continue with lofty ideals, mystical secrets, or philosophical teachings about the nature of the soul. Instead, the very next words are:
שמות כ״א:א — “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים אֲשֶׁר תָּשִׂים לִפְנֵיהֶם”
“And these are the laws that you shall place before them.”
The Torah turns immediately to the laws of damages, property, servants, and financial responsibility. To an idealist, this may appear to be a descent from the heights of revelation into the mundane details of daily life. But Rav Miller explains that this is not a descent at all. It is the necessary beginning. The Torah is a ladder that reaches the heavens, but the first rung of that ladder is Mishpatim—the careful observance of dinei nezikin and the responsibilities a person bears toward others. Only upon this foundation can true closeness to Hashem be built.
This idea is reinforced by Chazal, who teach:
בבא קמא ל ע״א — “מַאן דְּבָעֵי לְמֶהֱוֵי חֲסִידָא, לִיקַיֵּים מִילֵּי דִּנְזִיקִין”
“One who wishes to be a chassid should fulfill the laws of damages.”
True piety does not begin with outward displays of devotion or dramatic acts of asceticism. It begins with the discipline of honesty, the sensitivity to the property and well-being of others, and the awareness that nothing in this world is ownerless. The earth and all that it contains belong to Hashem, and man is granted permission to use it only under His conditions.
From this foundation, Rav Miller unfolds a broader vision of Mishpatim. The laws of responsibility and damages are not merely social regulations; they are tools for character development and for recognizing Hashem’s presence in every aspect of life. The parsha teaches:
In Rav Miller’s synthesis, Mishpatim is not a collection of legal technicalities. It is the blueprint for a life of awareness, responsibility, joy, and closeness to Hashem. The laws between man and his fellow form the ground upon which the entire edifice of Torah life is built. From the careful handling of another person’s property to the refinement of one’s own character, every detail of Mishpatim becomes a step upward on the ladder toward Heaven.
Parshas Mishpatim follows immediately after the revelation at Har Sinai. The Jewish people had just witnessed the most overwhelming experience in human history. They heard the voice of Hashem from the midst of the fire:
דברים ד:ל״ב — “הֲנִהְיָה כַּדָּבָר הַגָּדוֹל הַזֶּה… הֲשָׁמַע עָם קוֹל אֱלֹקִים מְדַבֵּר מִתּוֹךְ הָאֵשׁ… וַיֶּחִי”
“Has anything like this great event ever happened… has a people ever heard the voice of G-d speaking from the midst of the fire… and lived?”
The experience was so intense that Chazal say the people fainted from the encounter, as it is written:
שיר השירים ה:ו — “נַפְשִׁי יָצְאָה בְּדַבְּרוֹ”
“My soul left me when He spoke,” explained by the Gemara as their souls departing in the overwhelming experience (שבת פ״ח ב).
The nation stood at a peak of spiritual enthusiasm. They were ready for the greatest ideals and deepest secrets. They declared:
שמות כ״ד:ז — “נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע”
“We will do and we will hear.”
They expected to hear lofty teachings—mysteries of the soul, the meaning of life, and the path to perfection. Instead, the next words they heard were:
שמות כ״א:א — “וְאֵלֶּה הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים”
“And these are the laws.”
What followed were laws about damages, contracts, servants, and financial disputes—technical legal details of everyday life.
At first glance, this seems like a descent from the heights of Sinai. After thunder, fire, and revelation, are we to study the laws of oxen, pits, and broken barrels?
But this is not a descent. It is the beginning.
Many people feel uneasy when Mishpatim arrives. The parsha is filled with legal intricacies—dinei nezikin, property laws, and financial obligations. Some might think that a life of Torah should focus more on lofty ideals or character development.
But the system of the Torah itself teaches otherwise. The Gemara states:
בבא קמא ל ע״א — “מַאן דְּבָעֵי לְמֶהֱוֵי חֲסִידָא, לִיקַיֵּים מִילֵּי דִּנְזִיקִין”
“One who wishes to be a chassid should fulfill the laws of damages.”
True piety does not begin with fasting or long recitations of Tehillim. It begins with the careful observance of the laws governing other people’s property and well-being.
A person who wants to reach the summit of spiritual perfection must first learn not to damage, not to steal, and not to take advantage of others. This is the foundation of chassidus.
The structure of the Gemara reflects this same principle. Only one-seventh of the Talmud is devoted to aggadic or inspirational teachings. The other six-sevenths deal with practical law—especially the laws of damages and property.
Entire tractates—Bava Kama, Bava Metzia, and Bava Basra—are devoted to these topics. Years of study are invested in them.
One might think that this time could have been spent studying works of character refinement such as Mesillas Yesharim or Chovos HaLevavos. But the Torah’s system is deliberate. This is the foundation that Hashem Himself established at Sinai.
The Torah is a ladder whose top reaches Heaven. It contains:
But the first rung of that ladder is Mishpatim.
The path upward begins with responsibility for the safety and property of others. Only after mastering this foundation can a person rise to higher levels of spiritual achievement.
The underlying principle of Mishpatim is the awareness that the world does not belong to us.
תהלים כ״ד:א — “לַה׳ הָאָרֶץ וּמְלוֹאָהּ”
“The earth and all that fills it belongs to Hashem.”
Hashem granted mankind permission to use the world, but that permission comes with conditions.
If something belongs to another person, we have no right to take or use it. Hashem did not grant us that permission.
This awareness—that nothing is ownerless and everything belongs to Hashem—is the foundation of Mishpatim and the beginning of all avodas Hashem.
Without studying the laws of Mishpatim, a person does not truly understand what honesty means.
Every person believes he is honest. He may think others are dishonest, but he sees himself as upright.
Yet without learning the details of Torah law, a person may unknowingly live a life of subtle dishonesty. He may cut corners, take what is not his, or justify small acts of theft without realizing it.
Only the precise laws of Mishpatim define what is truly permitted and what is forbidden.
Even acts of kindness can become acts of harm if they violate the principles of Mishpatim.
A person may be delivering packages to needy families before Pesach, performing a great act of charity. But if he leaves packages where others may trip, or drives recklessly in his zeal to perform good deeds, he becomes a mazik.
In such a case, his kindness is overshadowed by the damage he causes. The first responsibility is always to avoid harming others.
People often imagine that chassidus is expressed through:
But the Torah teaches otherwise.
True chassidus begins with honesty, responsibility, and sensitivity to the rights of others. A person who is careful not to damage or take what is not his is already on the path to greatness.
The first step toward becoming a chassid is not external appearance, but internal integrity.
Rav Avigdor Miller teaches that the Torah’s path to holiness begins with the most practical responsibilities of daily life. After the revelation at Har Sinai, the Torah immediately turned to the laws of Mishpatim to show that the first step toward closeness to Hashem is honesty and responsibility. The laws of damages and property are not technicalities; they are the foundation of chassidus. By learning to respect the rights of others and recognizing that the world belongs to Hashem, a person takes the first step up the ladder that leads to spiritual greatness.
Parshas Mishpatim opens with the laws of the eved ivri, the Hebrew servant:
שמות כ״א:ב — “כִּי תִקְנֶה עֶבֶד עִבְרִי, שֵׁשׁ שָׁנִים יַעֲבֹד; וּבַשְּׁבִעִת יֵצֵא לַחָפְשִׁי חִנָּם”
“When you shall acquire a Hebrew servant, six years he shall work, and in the seventh he shall go free without payment.”
Rav Avigdor Miller begins with a fundamental question. This man is a full Jew:
In every essential sense, he remains a member of the Jewish people. So why does the Torah call him an eved ivri and not an eved Yisroel? Why use the name “Ivri” instead of the more honorable title “Yisroel”?
The name Yisroel is not merely a national label. It is a prophetic title given by Hashem to Yaakov Avinu. It represents:
This name is the pride and glory of the Jewish people. It signifies a people set apart for holiness and purpose.
It is not simply a description of ancestry. It is a declaration of identity and destiny.
By contrast, the term Ivri was often used by the nations of the world to describe the Jews. It comes from the idea of ever hanahar—someone from the other side of the river.
This designation reduces the Jewish people to:
The nations preferred this term because it avoided acknowledging the spiritual destiny contained in the name Yisroel.
Because of this, the Torah sometimes uses the term Ivri when Jews are speaking to gentiles.
When Moshe stood before Pharaoh, he said:
שמות ז:ט״ז — “אֱלֹקֵי הָעִבְרִים שְׁלָחַנִי אֵלֶיךָ”
“The G-d of the Hebrews sent me to you.”
He used the term Pharaoh would understand. But among Jews, the name Yisroel expresses their true spiritual identity.
Similarly, when Yonah was asked by gentile sailors who he was, he answered:
יונה א:ט — “עִבְרִי אָנֹכִי”
“I am a Hebrew.”
Again, he used the term appropriate for that audience.
Over time, the nations developed another strategy. Instead of merely avoiding the name Yisroel, they attempted to take it for themselves.
Certain groups claimed that they were the “true Israel,” adopting the Jewish scriptures while ignoring the commandments. This was an attempt to:
This struggle over names reflects a deeper struggle over identity and destiny.
After the destruction of the First Beis Hamikdash, the Jewish people became known primarily as Yehudim, from the tribe of Yehudah.
This too is a name of honor. It comes from the root hoda’ah—to thank or praise Hashem.
The essence of a Jew is to:
Thus, throughout Tanach, the Jewish people are called:
Both names express spiritual identity and purpose.
Now the original question returns:
Why does the Torah use the term eved ivri?
Rav Miller explains that the Torah deliberately uses a diminished title to reflect the servant’s lowered condition. Though he remains fully Jewish in obligation, his state of servitude represents a loss of the full honor associated with the name Yisroel.
The Torah is teaching:
The term eved ivri is therefore not merely descriptive. It is instructive. It teaches about the dignity of a Jew and the consequences of losing that dignity.
Rav Avigdor Miller reveals that the Torah’s terminology is itself a form of teaching. The names Yisroel and Yehudi are titles of spiritual honor, expressing destiny, gratitude, and Divine mission. The name Ivri, by contrast, reflects a diminished designation, often used by the nations to reduce the Jewish people to mere ethnicity. When the Torah calls a servant an eved ivri, it reflects a lowered condition, reminding us that a Jew’s true honor lies in his spiritual identity and conduct. Parshas Mishpatim thus defines not only laws of society, but the dignity and responsibility of being part of the nation of Hashem.
Among the laws of Mishpatim are the regulations governing injury and responsibility for physical harm. The Torah states:
שמות כ״א:י״ט — “רַק שִׁבְתּוֹ יִתֵּן וְרַפֹּא יְרַפֵּא”
“He shall pay for his loss of time, and he shall surely provide for his healing.”
From the words “וְרַפֹּא יְרַפֵּא”, Chazal derive a fundamental principle:
בבא קמא פ״ה א — “מִכָּאן שֶׁנִּתְּנָה רְשׁוּת לָרוֹפֵא לְרַפּוֹת”
“From here we learn that permission is given to the doctor to heal.”
This verse teaches not only a legal obligation, but a deeper insight into the nature of the human body and the kindness of Hashem.
When one person injures another, the Torah obligates the damager to pay for:
This shows that the Torah values:
The laws of Mishpatim are not merely about property. They are about the sanctity of life itself.
One might think that if Hashem sends illness or injury, human beings should not interfere. Perhaps a doctor should say, “If Hashem wants him healed, He will heal him.”
But the Torah explicitly rejects this idea. From the words “וְרַפֹּא יְרַפֵּא”, the Sages teach that doctors are given permission—and therefore obligation—to heal.
Medicine is not a contradiction to faith. It is part of Hashem’s system. The doctor is an agent through whom Hashem sends healing.
Rav Miller explains that the human body itself is a miraculous pharmacy, constantly working to protect and repair itself.
Within the body:
All of this takes place without conscious effort.
A person does not have to:
The body does it automatically.
This reveals the wisdom and kindness of Hashem, who built into the human body a vast system of protection and healing.
Even the simplest functions of the body are miracles.
Each of these systems reflects intricate design and purpose.
When a person studies the body, he is not merely learning biology. He is witnessing the wisdom of the Creator in action.
The Torah’s laws of injury and healing are therefore not only legal instructions. They are lessons in emunah.
They teach:
Every recovery from illness, every healed wound, and every healthy breath is a reminder of Hashem’s constant kindness.
When a person becomes aware of the miraculous design of his own body, he begins to recognize Hashem in the most immediate and personal way.
Rav Avigdor Miller teaches that the laws of injury and healing in Parshas Mishpatim reveal the sanctity of the human body and the kindness of Hashem. The Torah not only obligates a person to pay for medical treatment, but also grants doctors permission to heal, showing that medicine is part of the Divine system. The body itself is a miraculous “drugstore,” constantly protecting and repairing itself without conscious effort. By observing the wisdom and kindness built into the human body, a person learns to recognize Hashem’s presence in his own life and develops a deeper sense of gratitude and faith.
At the close of Parshas Mishpatim, after the laws have been taught and the covenant sealed, the Jewish people proclaim their famous declaration:
שמות כ״ד:ז — “כֹּל אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר ה׳ נַעֲשֶׂה וְנִשְׁמָע”
“All that Hashem has spoken we will do, and we will hear.”
This statement is one of the most celebrated moments in Jewish history. Chazal praise it as the pinnacle of the nation’s devotion, because they accepted the Torah before even hearing or understanding all of its details.
Rav Avigdor Miller explains that this declaration expresses a fundamental principle of Torah life: action comes before understanding.
The Mishnah teaches:
אבות ג:ט — “כָּל שֶׁמַּעֲשָׂיו מְרֻבִּים מֵחָכְמָתוֹ, חָכְמָתוֹ מִתְקַיֶּמֶת”
“One whose deeds are greater than his knowledge, his knowledge endures.”
This means that the foundation of spiritual success is not intellectual brilliance, but commitment to action. When a person places deeds before ideas, his wisdom becomes real and lasting.
But when knowledge comes without action, it remains theoretical and fragile.
The declaration of naaseh v’nishma reflects this principle. The Jewish people did not demand to understand every commandment before accepting it. They first committed themselves to do whatever Hashem would command, and only afterward to listen and learn the details.
Before the giving of the Torah, the people underwent a period of preparation. They were instructed to sanctify themselves, to purify their bodies and their thoughts, and to ready themselves for the encounter with Hashem.
But the greatest preparation was not intellectual. It was emotional and moral. They prepared their hearts to accept the Torah unconditionally.
When they declared naaseh v’nishma, they demonstrated that their loyalty to Hashem did not depend on their understanding. Their commitment came first.
This is the essence of Torah devotion.
Rav Miller explains that a sincere commitment to do the will of Hashem is itself a great spiritual achievement.
When a person truly resolves in his heart:
that decision already places him on the path of righteousness.
Even before he performs the mitzvos in practice, the sincere intention and acceptance are counted as a great merit.
This teaches that the inner decision to serve Hashem is not merely preparation—it is already part of the service itself.
Many people believe they must first understand everything before they can act. They feel that without full comprehension, commitment is premature.
But the Torah teaches the opposite. Understanding grows out of action.
When a person performs mitzvos:
Through action, he develops the ability to understand more deeply.
This is the meaning of naaseh v’nishma: first we act, and through that action we come to deeper understanding.
The declaration of naaseh v’nishma reveals the secret of spiritual growth.
Greatness does not begin with:
It begins with a simple commitment:
From that commitment grows understanding, character, happiness, and closeness to Hashem.
Rav Avigdor Miller teaches that the declaration of naaseh v’nishma expresses the central principle of Torah life: action comes before understanding. The Jewish people accepted the Torah with full commitment before hearing all its details, demonstrating that devotion to Hashem does not depend on intellectual comprehension. The Mishnah teaches that deeds greater than knowledge are the foundation of enduring wisdom. When a person sincerely resolves to do the will of Hashem, that commitment itself is a great spiritual achievement. Through action, a person refines his character and deepens his understanding. In this way, naaseh v’nishma becomes the secret of spiritual growth and the path to true closeness with Hashem.
Rav Avigdor Miller teaches that Parshas Mishpatim does not deal only with laws of damages and responsibility. Beneath the legal framework lies a deeper purpose: to shape a person into someone who recognizes Hashem’s kindness and lives with happiness and gratitude.
One of the great principles of Torah life is expressed in the words of Chazal:
תענית כ״ט א — “מִשֶּׁנִּכְנַס אֲדָר מַרְבִּין בְּשִׂמְחָה”
“When the month of Adar begins, we increase in joy.”
Rav Miller explains that this is not merely a seasonal custom. It reflects a deeper obligation: a Jew must learn to live with happiness.
Many people think happiness is a natural result of favorable circumstances. When things go well, they are happy; when things go poorly, they are not.
But the Torah teaches a different perspective. Happiness is not merely a reaction to events. It is a habit that must be cultivated.
A person must train himself to see:
Happiness is therefore not accidental. It is a deliberate practice.
Rav Miller explains that the world was created for man to enjoy. Every element of creation is an expression of Hashem’s kindness.
The beauty of the world, the pleasures of food, the warmth of sunlight, the comforts of shelter—all of these were created so that man could experience goodness and recognize the One who provided it.
This is why Gan Eden is described as a place of delight. It is not merely a spiritual abstraction. It is a place of pleasure and enjoyment, where man learns to recognize and appreciate Hashem’s gifts.
The ultimate purpose of these blessings is not the pleasure alone, but the gratitude that follows.
תהלים צ״ב:ב — “טוֹב לְהוֹדוֹת לַה׳”
“It is good to give thanks to Hashem.”
Gratitude is not just a nice sentiment. It is the central purpose of human life.
A person who trains himself to be happy becomes a person who is grateful. And a grateful person becomes close to Hashem.
Thus, happiness is not merely an emotional state. It is a spiritual tool that leads a person to recognize the Creator.
Every function of nature can become a source of joy and gratitude:
Each of these is an expression of Hashem’s kindness.
When a person trains himself to notice these things, he begins to live in a state of constant appreciation.
Gan Eden, in Rav Miller’s explanation, was a training ground. It was a place where man could learn to:
This training is meant to continue throughout life. A person must build habits of happiness by consciously noticing and appreciating the blessings around him.
In this way, happiness becomes a path to awareness of Hashem.
Rav Avigdor Miller teaches that the purpose of life is to recognize Hashem’s kindness and respond with gratitude. The Torah commands a life of happiness, not merely as an emotional state, but as a habit that must be cultivated. The world was created for man to enjoy, and every pleasure is an opportunity to recognize the Creator. When a person trains himself to see the goodness around him, he becomes a grateful person, and gratitude brings him closer to Hashem. In this way, happiness becomes a central tool of avodas Hashem and a fulfillment of the purpose for which the world was created.
Rav Avigdor Miller teaches that one of the most misunderstood ideas in religious life is the belief that the primary task of a Jew is to “fix the world.” While concern for others is important, the Torah places an even greater responsibility upon each individual: to fix oneself.
This principle is embedded within the laws of Mishpatim, which repeatedly use interpersonal obligations as tools for inner refinement.
Among the many laws of Parshas Mishpatim are the mitzvos of helping another person with his animal:
שמות כ״ג:ד–ה —
“כִּי תִפְגַּע שׁוֹר אֹיִבְךָ אוֹ חֲמֹרוֹ תֹּעֶה, הָשֵׁב תְּשִׁיבֶנּוּ לוֹ.
כִּי תִרְאֶה חֲמוֹר שֹׂנַאֲךָ רֹבֵץ תַּחַת מַשָּׂאוֹ… עָזֹב תַּעֲזֹב עִמּוֹ.”
“If you encounter the ox of your enemy or his donkey wandering, you shall surely return it to him. If you see the donkey of one who hates you crouching under its burden… you shall surely help him.”
These mitzvos seem simple acts of kindness. But Rav Avigdor Miller explains that they contain a profound lesson about the true purpose of mitzvos.
Many people speak about tikkun olam—repairing society, helping others, improving the world. Rav Miller explains that while this idea has value, it is often misunderstood.
The Torah’s primary demand is tikkun atzmi—self-perfection.
A person is not placed in the world primarily to reform others. He is placed here to refine his own character, discipline his desires, and align his will with the will of Hashem.
The main goal is tikkun atzmi—to fix oneself.
The Torah is primarily concerned with:
Only after a person works seriously on himself can his influence on the world be meaningful.
Many mitzvos in Mishpatim appear to focus on helping others, but Rav Miller reveals that their deeper purpose is often internal.
The Gemara teaches:
בבא מציעא ל״ב ב — “לִכְפוֹף אֶת יִצְרוֹ עָדִיף”
“To subdue one’s inclination is preferable.”
If a person encounters two situations:
He must help the enemy first.
Helping one’s enemy first is not primarily about assisting the other person. It is about conquering pride, resentment, and ego within oneself.
The mitzvah becomes a tool for character refinement.
The Torah’s demand to help one’s enemy before one’s friend seems counterintuitive. Rav Miller explains that this is precisely the point.
Helping a friend is easy and pleasant. Helping an enemy is difficult. It forces a person to:
This inner struggle is the essence of spiritual growth.
The Torah values this internal victory more than external success.
According to Rav Miller, mitzvos are not only external actions. They are tools designed to shape the inner world of the person who performs them.
Every mitzvah:
When a person helps his enemy, he is not only performing a kind act. He is transforming himself.
He is:
This is the deeper purpose of the mitzvah.
Rav Miller emphasizes that the greatest battles in life are not fought in public arenas or social movements. They are fought silently within the heart.
The real battlefield is:
Every mitzvah is an opportunity to win one of these battles.
The provocative title “Be Selfish” does not mean indulgence or self-centeredness. It means recognizing that your primary responsibility is your own soul.
A person must ask:
When a person focuses on his own spiritual growth, he becomes a healthier, kinder, and more reliable human being—and only then can he truly benefit others.
The greatest victory in life is not over another person. It is over one’s own yetzer hara.
When a person:
He achieves the greatest triumph possible.
This is the essence of tikkun atzmi.
The laws of Mishpatim are therefore not only social regulations. They are carefully designed exercises in character development.
By obligating a person to act fairly, patiently, and humbly—even when it is difficult—the Torah molds him into a refined servant of Hashem.
Every interpersonal mitzvah becomes a mirror, revealing where a person must still grow.
Rav Avigdor Miller teaches that the central task of a Jew is tikkun atzmi—self-perfection. While helping others is important, the Torah uses interpersonal mitzvos primarily as tools for refining character. By obligating a person to overcome resentment, pride, and selfishness, Mishpatim transforms everyday interactions into opportunities for spiritual victory. The greatest accomplishments in life are not external achievements, but the quiet triumphs over one’s own yetzer hara. Through this inner work, a person fulfills the true purpose of Torah and becomes worthy of closeness to Hashem. The greatest victory is not over others, but over one’s own impulses, and through this process of self-perfection a person fulfills the true purpose of the Torah.
Rav Avigdor Miller’s teachings on Parshas Mishpatim form a single, unified vision. What begins as a collection of civil laws emerges as a complete philosophy of avodas Hashem. Mishpatim is not merely a legal code; it is the foundation upon which the entire structure of Torah life is built.
Immediately after the revelation at Har Sinai, when the Jewish people stood at the height of spiritual experience, the Torah did not continue with mystical secrets or lofty abstractions. Instead, it began to teach the laws of damages, property, servants, and responsibility. This was not a descent from holiness, but the first step toward it. The Torah is a ladder that reaches Heaven, but the first rung of that ladder is Mishpatim—the careful observance of the laws governing human relationships and material responsibility.
From that first rung, Rav Miller shows how the Torah builds upward.
It begins with honesty and responsibility. A person must learn that the world belongs to Hashem and that every interaction with another person’s property or well-being is governed by His will. True chassidus begins not with external signs of piety, but with the discipline of integrity and the careful observance of dinei nezikin.
From there, the Torah teaches the honor and identity of a Jew. The names Yisroel and Yehudi are not mere labels; they are badges of spiritual destiny. A Jew’s true dignity lies in living according to that mission, and the Torah’s language itself reflects the spiritual standing of the individual.
Next, the laws of injury and healing reveal the sanctity of the human body. The obligation to pay for healing and the permission granted to doctors demonstrate that the body is precious and that life itself is sustained by the constant kindness of Hashem. The human body, with its intricate systems of protection and repair, becomes a living testimony to Divine wisdom.
The covenant at the end of the parsha then introduces the principle of naaseh v’nishma—commitment before understanding. The Jewish people accepted the Torah with action first, showing that true greatness begins not with intellectual mastery, but with loyal obedience and sincere intention.
From commitment comes happiness and gratitude. The world was created for man to enjoy, and every pleasure is an opportunity to recognize the kindness of Hashem. By cultivating habits of happiness, a person becomes grateful, and gratitude brings him closer to the Creator.
Finally, the Torah reveals the goal of it all: tikkun atzmi, the perfection of the self. The mitzvos between man and his fellow are not only social regulations; they are tools for inner transformation. By overcoming resentment, pride, and selfishness, a person achieves the greatest victory possible—the victory over his own yetzer hara.
In this way, Rav Miller’s teachings trace a clear path:
Parshas Mishpatim is therefore the blueprint for a life of holiness. It teaches that the path to Heaven does not begin in the clouds, but on the ground—through honesty, responsibility, discipline, and gratitude. Step by step, the Torah lifts a person upward, until the simple laws of daily life become the very ladder that leads to the Divine.
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