Commentary on Parshat Mishpatim (Exodus 21:1 – 24:18)
So, we’re free from bondage! We’ve accepted our lot as God’s chosen people! Now we eagerly move on to… a list of regulations for a hypothetical society we cannot build yet? Why is Parshat Mishpatim here? The essential clue, I think, is in the first topic: rules for treating slaves with dignity. At this transitional moment from powerlessness to autonomy, from mere survival to divine providence, the Israelites need reminding that they have a moral responsibility toward the most vulnerable of their society.
I am struck by the measure of humanity Mishpatim confers upon the “Hebrew slave,” given the context of a world where slavery and legal servitude were normative. The Hebrew slave is a fellow kinsman who has fallen on hard times and must enter temporary servitude to pay his debts. At the end of his term of six years, the Torah says:
If he had a wife, his wife shall leave with him. If his master gave him a wife, and she has borne him children, the wife and her children shall belong to the master, and he shall leave alone. But if the slave declares, ‘I love my master, and my wife and children; I do not wish to go free,’… he shall then remain his slave for life. (Exodus 21:3-6)
The Torah knows that family is a priority. Loving relationships must be honored, even in hard and degrading circumstances, as we see in the opening of this portion. The Hebrew slave has the right to determine his family’s future within his limited circumstances: He can choose to work in order to provide for and raise his kids. In him I see the undocumented parents of my former students, immigrants and first-generation kids from Mexican/Central American roots. Their mothers and fathers faced the prospect of grueling and lowly work here in the U.S. so that their children could grow up safe, educated, and free. I spent 14 years, before my rabbinical studies, teaching Spanish bilingual preteens the skills they needed — both academic and personal- -to fulfill their families’ dreams.
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This Torah value of family unity led me to stand against last year’s horrific policy of family separation at the U.S.-Mexico border. In sending many thousands of adults, including legal asylum seekers, to unnecessary federal prosecution, border agents ripped away many thousands of children from the loving arms of their families. 2,654 children, by the government’s official tally, and “certainly more than that,” maybe thousands more, according to more recent disclosures in January. We responded with a groundswell of outrage from religious, progressive, and humanitarian quarters, including many of us involved with T’ruah. The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) successfully challenged the family separation policy in court. Amnesty International educated the public, and organizations like Mijente, Families Belong Together, and Kids In Need of Defense aided the migrant families.
While the topic faded from the news after the policy officially ended, and most families have been reunited, the issues are far from resolved. Children were taken from their families for five months on average. This separation, experts fear, disrupted the resilience of both children and parents, which will impede their emotional development for years to come. Many of the migrant families have reported nightmares, disengagement, and other PTSD-like symptoms. A class-action lawsuit filed in Massachusetts claims the U.S. government must pay for care to mitigate the trauma our country inflicted.
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We must remain opposed to the possibility that immigrants could again be stripped of their human rights, antithetical to the values placed on family cohesion in Parshat Mishpatim. The Trump administration continues to explore renewal of the family separation policy as a misguided deterrent. One proposed version would force a horrible choice: Parents could either relinquish their children “voluntarily,” or stay together in detention — putting kids behind bars for up to two years of deportation proceedings. Such a plan would be cruel, costly, and ineffective.
The proven and humane alternative is Family Case Management, which allows immigrant families to remain free together during their asylum or deportation process. Immigration Customs Enforcement (ICE) data show that 99.6 percent enrolled in such a program appear as promised for their court dates. However, conservatives deride this strategy as “catch and release” despite its effectiveness. The Trump administration shut down the Family Case Management Program in 2017, a few months before unannounced testing of family separation began.
This, then, is the lesson of Parshat Mishpatim for us right now. Those with security must remember to wield their influence with care for those without it. Just as a society of newly freed slaves needed to treat others humanely once they got a bit of power, so too do we — a country of immigrants, refugees, slaves, and oppressed peoples — need to prioritize the values of family and dignity for all, no matter how newly arrived. Falling upon the mercy of others in hard times does not strip a person of their fundamental humanity, whether in the time of the Torah or today. We must protect migrant families’ rights as they seek a better life in the U.S., granting them humane treatment and due process. We must live the American “Mishpatim,” the slate of values we have set to govern our society.
Jessica Dell’Era is a rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary and a former bilingual public school teacher from California. She is an alumna of the T’ruah Summer Fellowship in 2018.
