January 29th, 2022
27 Shevat 5782
Click here to listen to a recording of Rabbi Sarit's sermon for this Shabbat.
I have vivid memories of hearing about the McDonalds hot coffee case in 1994, when a woman sued McDonalds after spilling hot coffee on herself. She suffered severe wounds and had to have significant medical treatment, and the jury in her case held McDonalds accountable. The intricacies of that case weren’t so relevant to me then, but I do remember thinking over and over, “isn’t coffee supposed to be hot?” And more than that “wouldn’t McDonalds err on having their coffee hot rather than a bit cooler, because way more people would complain about it being not hot enough?”
I’ve realized that part of why this case stood out for me, why I still remember it vividly AND my reaction to it, is because it was one of the first explicit times that I realized something about our society. The sue-heavy nature of our American culture has so many people on the look-out for how they can hold someone else accountable when something goes wrong. Suing someone else, or a business, is often our first reaction, or our first desire, when we incur some type of injury.
What we hear in this week’s parsha, Mishpatim, is somewhat of an antidote to this, where once again our ancient words of wisdom serve as a counter-cultural foil to much of what we experience. Parashat Mishpatim, full of rules that have to do with civil law more than anything ritualistic, delineates what happens when our actions cause injury to others. More than this, I’m fascinated by the Torah’s ability to impart the idea that all of us WILL do things that end up hurting people, it’s not about good people or bad people, but more about what kinds of actions we should take when that inevitably happens.
I’d like to pluck one of the many laws from Mishpatim to see what the Torah’s treatment of it can teach us. The Torah teaches (Shemot 21:33-34):
וְכִֽי־יִפְתַּ֨ח אִ֜ישׁ בּ֗וֹר א֠וֹ כִּֽי־יִכְרֶ֥ה אִ֛ישׁ בֹּ֖ר וְלֹ֣א
יְכַסֶּ֑נּוּ וְנָֽפַל־שָׁ֥מָּה שּׁ֖וֹר א֥וֹ חֲמֽוֹר׃ בַּ֤עַל הַבּוֹר֙ יְשַׁלֵּ֔ם כֶּ֖סֶף
“When a person opens a pit, or digs a pit and does not cover it, and an ox or a donkey falls into it, the one responsible for the pit must make restitution…”
The Torah is outlining just one of many possibilities, where an individual has dug a pit on their property but failed to cover it, leaving it open. Someone else’s animal falls into it, and presumably, has some type of injury.
We might read this and say to ourselves, “of course the person who opened the pit and didn’t cover it should pay! That’s their obligation for not covering all their bases.” And yes, of course this is true. This is one important layer of the teaching - everything we do can have a chain reaction to those around us.
But how many of us read these verses and think that we may be the one to open the pit. That we may be the one that inadvertently caused some damage to another. The Torah is not just teaching us that we should be owed something if we experience some type of harm. The Torah is also asking us to think about personal accountability and responsibility, for ourselves.
If our secular culture is one where we are often eager to see the other as culpable, the Torah wants each of us to see ourselves as individuals that could, in theory, cause others harm. The Torah is trying to get us to develop a nuanced picture of what it means to realize that we will live in the world and do normal things - and that others may get injured because of our actions. Then, what do we do?
The Torah, in a way that seems fascinating to me, doesn’t actually place judgement or shame on the individual that has done wrong. It’s almost as if the Torah looks squarely at the individual and says, “Ok, you made a mistake, someone else got hurt, make up for it, be a big person, own it, and hold yourself accountable, and then move on.”
And yet, in our world, I think there’s a desire for us to not see ourselves as responsible. Or at least, not initially. This is, of course, not to say that other people don’t also do wrong, or that it’s never anyone else’s fault, but perhaps we’ve created a worldview where we are more eager to jump and see something as another’s wrongdoing, before examining where we may make restitution, in the Torah’s words.
Perhaps the Torah is saying, not that we should never wonder if it’s someone else’s fault, but first to say, “could I have done anything differently?” One response to the Torah’s scenario is to say, “I should have covered the pit. I should not have created a scenario where someone else could have fallen in.” I think the hard part, for so many of us, is thinking about how we may take responsibility before the other person can sue me. It’s not about being reactive, waiting to see if someone will catch my mistake.
Because that often leads to defensiveness, and this is where I believe there is a deep spiritual component to this very legalistic text. We have such a real human desire for self-preservation, and a deep difficulty when faults are exposed. Our instincts, in a desire to affect how others see us, are to firm up and close off any permeable walls as if we are perfect.
There is such a fear of being exposed, such a desire for self-preservation, that most of us don’t admit wrongdoing, if we do at all, until we’ve been called out and blamed. And often, until then, there is either an instinct to pretend nothing is wrong or the failure to actually understand that we are capable of fault. These both lead to that defensiveness, that corrosive element in relationships that creeps up when we don’t want to admit fallibility.
The likelihood of human error means each of us can be in a situation where we will hurt our neighbor, where we may accidentally leave the pit uncovered. This parashah gives us a blueprint for what to do next when that happens, maintaining the sanctity of our relationships with others by immediately accepting accountability, not waiting to be sued or accused. Because the Torah wants us to prioritize these relationships, wants us to have meaningful, holy relationships with those around us even though we will all, inevitably, cause some hurt.
The message here about how we carry ourselves is twofold.
1 - The pits, even on our own property, that we leave open or uncovered affect those around us and how they live in this world. And if we are to create a holy society, which the laws in this parashah attempt to help establish, we must understand that our actions impact our neighbors.
2 - When we do inevitably leave those pits uncovered, it behooves us to immediately see where we messed up and how we can make it right. This is the only way to live with others.
I’d like to close with a midrash from Vayikra Rabbah that reinforces both of these messages. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai taught a story about a group of people on a ship. One took a drill and started boring through the wood under his seat. The others immediately asked him, what are you doing?! He answered: why do you care? I’m only drilling under my own seat. They replied: But the water will come up through that hole and flood the entire ship.
If we live our lives thinking only about our own seat, drilling holes or uncovering pits only concerned with our needs, and not noticing or paying attention to the ramifications for those around us, we will inevitably sink, as a collective.
But, if we can live with our heads up and looking around us cognizant of being part of a collective, our ships will continue to float and our lives will be elevated through our heightened awareness and curiosity. It is this outward posture, not thinking that someone must have done us wrong, that will help us all life meaningful, rich lives, with the understanding that we are constantly in relationship with those on this boat of life with us.
Ken Yehi Ratzon
