Some Torah portions explain historical lineage, linking generations of leaders for context. Some portions detail big, sweeping scenes of miracles and wonder. And some give us the framework for the laws and traditions that guide Jewish observance even today. Parshat Mishpatim falls into that third category.

Mishpatim is a cornerstone of Jewish law, a blueprint for justice, ethical behavior, and societal responsibility. Among its many laws, one passage stands out in contemporary discussions on reproductive rights: Exodus 21:22-25. This verse describes a situation in which a pregnant woman is injured during an altercation, resulting in the loss of the pregnancy. The Torah states that if no further harm follows, the one responsible must pay financial damages, but if harm does follow, then the principle of “an eye for an eye” applies.

This passage has been foundational in Jewish legal tradition, as it differentiates between the status of the fetus and the life of the pregnant person. While some perspectives grant fetal life an independent legal status from conception, the Torah’s distinction here implies that the well-being of the pregnant person takes precedence. This principle is echoed throughout Jewish law, which consistently prioritizes the health, safety, and autonomy of the person carrying the pregnancy. The Mishnah (Ohalot 7:6) reinforces this idea, stating that if a pregnancy endangers the mother’s life, intervention is not only permitted but required.

Jewish tradition calls upon us to uphold justice and compassion in all areas of life, and reproductive rights are no exception. The laws of Parshat Mishpatim remind us that justice is not abstract—it is about ensuring that the vulnerable are protected, that individual dignity is respected, and that ethical decisions are guided by wisdom and care. As much as we’ve advanced in almost every area of science and healthcare, somehow reproductive rights are still contested. Yet our ancient texts apply a nuanced approach, which acknowledges the complexities of pregnancy and prioritizes the life and health of the pregnant person.

In light of this, we offer a blessing, drawing upon our sacred tradition:

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, shenatan lanu Torat emet v’chayei olam nata b’tocheinu.
Blessed are you, Adonai, sovereign of the universe, who has given us a Torah of truth and planted within us eternal life.

This blessing, traditionally recited after Torah study, reminds us that our learning must lead to action. The Torah’s truth is not stagnant; it calls us to uphold justice in our communities. As we reflect on Parshat Mishpatim, may we be inspired to advocate for policies that support those making difficult decisions and ensure that justice, as our tradition envisions it, is upheld for all.

When I used to teach in the day school world I would frequently be called upon to offer a unit called “Jewish Sexual Education” to our 4^th-8^th graders as part of their human sexuality units. My role was to offer up a sex-positive, safety-positive lesson about the way we look at our bodies and how we treat our partners in intimate relationships. This spanned the spectrum from strictly emotional relationships (and emotional abuse) to the very nature of our physical beings and anatomy. It never failed; each year I’d walk into the classroom to have kids shade their eyes and hide their faces because it was too much for them to hear the rabbi use medical terminology for genitalia.

I started each year with the same speech about how “this too is Torah” and reminded them that the Torah is chock-full of examples of boundaries being violated and rules about what constitutes an appropriate physically intimate relationship. This is acknowledged in multiple ways throughout the Torah, but specifically in our current Torah portion.

This week we read Parshat Mishpatim, the middle section of text in Sefer Shemot, the Book of Exodus. The Israelites are on their way out of Egypt to Israel. They have begun to set up their own system of laws and rules, beginning last week with the Ten Commandments. This week, Parshat Mishpatim focuses on interpersonal laws in regard to business. The main idea of this section of text is that we have the obligation to treat each other in business and in relationships as complete, equal human beings.

In the list of responsibilities towards other humans, the text talks about indentured servants and other types of “ownership” relationships. It may sound strange to modern ears, but this includes marriage. The Torah is explicit that the rights of two people in a committed relationship are food, clothing, and conjugal love. Jewish law values the rights of both partners to sexual satisfaction within their partnership. Moreover, withholding pleasure from a partner is seen as breaking a commandment. 

We often think of biblical Judaism as being ancient and antiquated. We often have to dig deep into laws about sacrifice to figure out how those laws are relevant to us today. For this law, there’s no need to dig. The Torah values responsible and committed physical bonding and recognizes that withholding that physical need is a form of enslavement. It’s a pretty progressive take for these ancient words. 

Anyone who has spent time with me in a meeting (specifically a meeting during the colder months) knows that I am almost always freezing. For about nine months a year, I keep a space heater on in my office, and ten months a year I use one in my bedroom. I simply can’t get warm enough. This also means I always have a sweater or sweatshirt on me or with me, and sometimes even a blanket at the ready in case a meeting space is too cold for my comfort. Since I’m usually prepared with these items, I also often end up lending them out when needed. Of course, occasionally I forget to gather them back, which means sometimes I’m cold, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

The ability for me to find warmth, however, is a huge blessing, and it makes me aware of how many people do not have that luxury. It’s a reminder of how much there is to do to support those who need warmth and shelter, especially in these cold and wet months in Portland. 

This week in the Torah we read Parshat Mishpatim, the middle section of text in Sefer Shemot, the Book of Exodus. The Israelites are on their way out of Egypt to Israel. They have begun to set up their own system of laws and rules, beginning last week with the Ten Commandments. This week, Mishpatim focuses on interpersonal laws with regard to business. The main theme of this section of text is that we have the obligation to treat each other in business and personal relationships as complete, equal human beings.

In these new laws, we learn, “If you take your neighbor’s garment in pledge, you must return it to them before the sun sets; it is his only clothing.” The notion that someone should have what they need by sunset, the time in which we are most vulnerable, is, according to the Torah, the essence of humanity. Sharing warmth and protection, especially during this time of year, is more than a nice gesture; it’s a commandment.  

If you’re cleaning out your home of items you no longer use, consider donating them instead of tossing them. KGW offers a non-exhaustive list of organizations that are taking donations. 

How can you tell if the information you’re presented with on a daily basis is true? I don’t mean “true” as in “your truth,” I mean “true” as in factual. In the past half-decade, one of the things that continues to divide us more and more is mistrust, which is only encouraged by social media and the popularization of the claim of “fake news.” We’re living in a strange time, when science is subjective and statistics can be manipulated and interpreted in whichever way makes our side appear to be right.

Instead of having productive debates over the merit of various ideas, we’re fed misinformation at such a rapid pace that even social media channels have had to fact check tweets and place warnings on posts that haven’t been proven or substantiated. What’s worse, when we hear false information about anyone or anything, we’re now forced to ask ourselves if the repercussions of speaking up are even worth the time and energy. 

Speaking out to correct falsehoods and stop the spread of misinformation takes courage, and the obligation to do so goes back to the Torah in this week’s portion. This week we read Parshat Mishpatim, the middle section of text in Sefer Shemot, the Book of Exodus. The Israelites are on their way out of Egypt to Israel. They have begun to set up their own system of laws and rules, beginning last week with the Ten Commandments. This week, Parshat Mishpatim focuses on interpersonal laws with regard to business. The main idea of this section of text is that we have the obligation to treat each other in business and in relationships as complete, equal human beings.

As we learn in the laws we read in chapter 23, verse 1: “You must not carry false rumors; you shall not join hands with the guilty to act as a malicious witness.” There’s no ambiguity there. The language itself is almost as heavy as the burden of carrying falsehoods and lies. The Torah is clear in the instruction that when we hear something that is false, we have an obligation to correct, and bring the truth to light. 

However, before you go around correcting everyone, which might make you right, but likely won’t win you any friends, the Torah also tells us that we are to fulfill this obligation with grace and compassion. 

Lies only weigh us down. They weigh on our conscience, and their propagation can have weighty consequences. Parshat Mishpatim reminds us that the mitzvah of lightening someone’s load isn’t just about a physical burden. To be truly courageous and compassionate human beings, our job is to lift up the truth, and by doing so, lessen everyone’s burden just a little bit. 

I used to be the odd ball kid. (OK, to be fair, I’m still pretty weird). As a child I had high emotions all the time and struggled in large group settings. I was awkward and bookish and not very popular. I simply did not fit in with my peers for most of my life. It wasn’t until I went to college and then graduate school that I finally found a group of people I could connect with in an honest and open way. I felt as though I finally found a group of people where I fit in and understood what it was like to be part of a community. Of course maturing in age and experience probably helped some too. Unfortunately, even as an adult I’ve found that many of the people I grew up with still see me as who I used to be. No matter how much I have personally grown and changed, to some people I will always be that same strange kid, but in an adult body. If nothing else, it certainly has me hesitant about attending my 20-year reunion this year, even if it’s only on Zoom. 

We all experience this to some degree as we grow and change throughout our lives. While our past genuinely does contribute to who we are as individuals today, we’re not who we used to be, and being reminded of our past, especially if it’s painful, can be devastating and destructive more than nostalgic.

Parshat Mishpatim, which we read this week, actually forbids dwelling on parts of a person’s past. The Israelites are on their way out of Egypt to Israel. They have begun to set up their own system of laws and rules, beginning last week with the Ten Commandments. This week, Parshat Mishpatim, focuses on interpersonal laws with regard to business. The main idea of this section of text is that we have the obligation to treat each other in business and in relationships as complete, equal human beings.

In chapter 22, verses 19-20 we read, “Whoever sacrifices to a god other than the Lord alone shall be proscribed. You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” The word for stranger is ger, which is also used for someone who has converted. It was from these verses that the sages forbade belittling sincere converts by reminding them of their idol worshipping days. 

The current version of who you are may appear quite different to those who knew you when. Similarly, people who only know us as adults may be surprised when they learn things about our former selves. The Torah reminds us not to hold on to who we used to be or to dwell on memories that no longer reflect reality, but to let the past go when necessary and support and welcome ourselves and others in the present.