The Message of the Eved Ivri
Parshas Mishpatim deals mostly with laws of interpersonal dealings, such as loans, damages, treatment of converts, etc. Most of these mitzvos are as relevant today as they were at the Giving of the Torah.
This leads to a question: The parsha begins with the mitzvos of an eved ivri (a Jewish slave), which for most of our history could not be practiced (as they depend on the Yovel), and even when this was practiced, it was very rare. Why does this mitzvah begin the parsha?
Moreover, the Sages state (Yerushalmi, Rosh Hashana 17a) that Hashem told the Jews in Egypt that because of the mitzvah to free Jewish slaves that they would fulfill in the future, they would be redeemed now from their slavery. And the prophet, Yirmiyahu (34:13-17), declares that the failure to free Jewish slaves will cause the nation to go into exile.
Apparently, the mitzvos of eved ivri have some exceptional importance. What is it?
The Ramban states that “the mitzvah to free an eved ivri on the seventh year reminds us that Hashem created the world, as do the mitzvos of Shabbos and Shmitta … All the sevens remind us that Hashem created world.” Therefore, the mitzvah of eved ivri is very important and begins Parshas Mishpatim.
Let’s elaborate on the Ramban’s answer. First, let’s look at Shabbos. We are commanded to cease from working once every seven days. Whoever is involved in important projects knows how difficult it can be to pull ourselves away from them, but this is a prime lesson of Shabbos. Namely, who is the boss? Is it my employer, or I myself? No, teaches the mitzvah of Shabbos. Hashem is the boss, and He commands you now to cease from your work.
How much more so is this lesson felt by the farmer. For six years he works the land, “his land.” Life centers around the seasons, each with its unique chores that are critical to producing “his” crop. Comes the Shmitta year and declares: Stop working for an entire year. This is not your land and not your crop.
Eved ivri teaches this lesson as well. A man buys a slave to oversee his household, and very quickly the smooth running of the house depends on “his” slave. Six years later, however, this slave must be freed. How will I manage without my slave? thinks the master. The Torah commands: This is not “your” slave. Hashem gave him to you for six years, but now He is commanding you to set him free. Shabbos, Shmitta, and eved ivri all teach the lesson that no possessions are truly ours.
Rav Gedalia Shor notes that the eved ivri himself learns this lesson. He enters a home where his master provides all of his needs. He may even give him a Canaanite maidservant. Hopefully, the slave will not forget that only his penniless state forced him to become a slave. If, however, he decides at the end of his six years: “I love my master, my wife and my children” (Shemos 21:5), he is taught that this is an error.
His “master, wife and children” are not his at all. His true master is Hashem, not the Jew who purchased him. This eved ivri must have his ear pierced in a painful procedure done at the mezuzah of the house, to show him his error. The ear that heard at Har Sinai that the Jews are Hashem’s slaves and not slaves of mortal men, and the mezuzah that testified to the Jews’ exodus from the Egyptian slavery, are a reproach to this man for forgetting that it is Hashem whom he must serve, not a mortal master (Kiddushin 22b).
This critical message is why eved ivri begins Parshas Mishpatim.
Even though there are no Jewish slaves today, the message this mitzvah teaches is quite relevant and should be internalized. Unfortunately, the lifestyle of some observant Jews indicates that they view their property as “theirs,” and forget that Hashem is koneh hakol, the Possessor of everything. They also fail to appreciate that their real purpose in life is to serve Hashem. Instead, their focus is enjoyment, or how to amass enough wealth to finance this enjoyment. How tragic it is that they neglect the real reason why they are alive!
And for all their enjoyment, they are left ultimately with a sense of emptiness, because they are not realizing the purpose of their lives. Inside, many of them can feel this emptiness.
Once, an older man with very little background in Talmud decided to leave a high-paying job to come learn in our yeshiva. I could see that every line of Gemara was a struggle for him. At one point, I approached him and asked: “Is there anything I can do to help you? I imagine that the learning here must be very difficult.”
To my surprise, he replied:
“Rabbi, I’m doing just fine. In fact, I can’t tell you how happy I am that I came here. Every day I’m making progress in learning Hashem’s Torah. Before, when I was working, I felt that I was watching day after day go to waste. Here, I’m finally doing what it is a Jew is supposed to do. At the end of every day, I look back and see how much I’ve accomplished. I couldn’t be happier!”
May we be zocheh to recognize the Master and serve Him!