In my 7th grade Bible class, we’re currently studying the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy), reading it primarily as a text concerned with creating a society based on principles of justice. These past few weeks, we’ve been looking at the 10 Commandments, comparing the Devarim version to the “original,” those that appear in Shemot (which we read last week in shul). 
 
One of the ways to parse the 10 Commandments is to divide them according to the categories of mitzvah that they reflect. Some of the commandments are representative of Mitzvot Bein Adam LaMakom, mitzvot that pertain to our relationship with God, i.e. ritual and religious mitzvot. And some of the commandments are Mitzvot Bein Adam L’Ḥaveiro, mitzvot that speak to our obligations to our fellow people. As we look at the commandments through this lens, I ask my students to consider which category of mitzvah they think is more important. 
 
This year, my students were split on the issue. What’s more, those who said ritual mitzvot were more important argued that our relationship with God sets us up to be spiritually centered, which will ultimately impact our interactions with others in addition to our religious outlook. Those who said that interpersonal mitzvot were more essential believed that placing priority on our obligations to others honors the godly spark in each person and reinforces our relationship with God. Their difficulty making a straightforward choice demonstrated how deeply entwined my students believe our connections to God and to each other to be. 
 
Their viewpoint is a meaningful frame to put around this week’s parashah as well. Parashat Mishpatim, coming on the heels of the 10 Commandments, constitutes much of the section of Torah known as Sefer HaBrit, the Book of the Covenant. In our reading this week we are inundated with scenarios and rulings that govern our interactions with other people, whether they are our neighbors, family members, or servants, and whether we relate to them as equals or exercise power over them. 
 
I find it noteworthy that the bulk of Sefer HaBrit deals with our human obligations rather than our religious ones. The core content of our covenant with God focuses on how we treat each other. We enter into holy relationship with God by cultivating an awareness of the holiness of other people. 
 
It hardly needs to be said that we are living through a tremendously tense moment in our country’s history. So many of us are worried for the future - for our own lives as well as for the destiny of our nation. It also goes without saying that we do not all respond to our concerns in the same way. We do not all identify the same problems and do not all seek out the same solutions. And our American political culture has sadly become comfortable with the notion that those who disagree with us are less worthy of our sympathy, of our respect. 
 
Looking to Torah can help us take the first step back on a better path. Parashat Mishpatim reminds us that our ultimate role in the world is to care for each other, to respect each other, to lift each other up when we are downtrodden, to be honest and upright in our relationships, to cherish the Godly humanity in each of us. 
 
Shabbat Shalom.

Today is Tu Bishvat (ט״ו בשבט), the 15th of Shevat, which we celebrate as the New Year of the trees. As I write this, there is snow on the ground and the temperature is below freezing. Tu Bishvat in the northeast US is kind of an incongruous experience. But the Mishnah, which first teaches us about Tu Bishvat, was composed in the land of Israel, where signs of the renewal of springtime are beginning to appear at this time every year.
One common Tu Bishvat activity, especially in Israel, is planting trees. I’ve participated in this a number of times and each time, I’m aware of the fragility of the tiny seedling in my hands, almost disbelieving that it will one day become a large and sturdy tree. It takes years, sometimes decades or longer, for a tree's roots to completely take hold of the soil, for it to grow to full size, to produce edible fruit. 

One of my favorite stories from the Talmud (Ta’anit 23a) - which is often shared in connection with Tu Bishvat - relates to this very idea. Ḥoni HaM’agel was walking along the road and saw someone planting a carob tree. Curious about what he was seeing, Ḥoni asked the man how long it would take for the tree to bear fruit. The man explained that it would take 70 years. Shocked, Ḥoni exclaimed, “Do you expect to be alive to eat from this tree?” The man answered, “I found a world full of carob trees. Just as my ancestors planted for me, I too am planting for my descendants.”

(Side note: the rest of the story is a lot of fun and takes a typically Talmudic dark turn at the end, which is why it’s one of my favorites. Give it a look if you have a chance.)

The message of this story is straightforward - we need to plant seeds, both literally and figuratively, for those who come after us. We must not only take from the bounty of the world, we also need to lay the groundwork for that bounty to continue beyond us. 

There are myriad ways this idea is operative in our lives, in the decisions we make about where to live, how to raise and educate our children, our usage of natural and manmade resources. These types of decisions, of course, impact our lives now, but they also plant seeds for those who will come after us. For example, my decision to join our community’s Neighborhood Sun group means that my home’s energy is provided in part by the sun. I experience that in real time. But it also means that I’m reducing my dependence on fossil fuels, which will contribute to a cleaner, cooler, and safer world in the future. In letting my children know that our house is part of a solar power network, they absorb the values behind my choice, which they will ideally continue to embrace as adults and share with their own families and friends. These are the seeds that will hopefully bear future fruit.

…Which brings me to Parashat Hashavua. This week we read Parashat Yitro, in which we witness God’s self-revelation to the Israelites, in the form of the Ten Commandments. The second commandment is a difficult one. The beginning of the commandment, the prohibition on worshiping other gods, and on making or serving idols is not so challenging. But then God says, “For I the LORD your God am an impassioned God, visiting the guilt of the parents upon the children, upon the third and upon the fourth generations of those who reject Me, but showing kindness to the thousandth generation of those who love Me and keep My commandments.” (Exodus 20:5-6). 

Vicarious punishment, the idea that people will be punished for the sins of earlier generations, feels cruel and unfair - not the actions of a God of compassion and forgiveness. In a number of other places in the Tanakh, this idea is roundly rejected. In later texts, it becomes a tenet of Jewish theology that children are not punished for the sins of their parents.  If vicarious punishment is unjust, what alternative meaning can we find in this passage?

Umberto Cassuto (1883-1951), an Italian - and later Israeli - rabbi and Bible scholar, offers a powerful suggestion. As a commentator, he tends to read the text literarily, and is careful not to interpret the words of the Bible out of their context and meaning. Seeing that the most straightforward meaning of the text is that punishment for one’s sins will devolve upon the heads of their descendants, he offers this interpretation: Since a person will naturally feel of anguish at seeing their children or grandchildren suffer, and perhaps even more than they would feel about their own tribulations, the text is offering a warning in order to distance us from sin. If it is possible that during your life you would see children and grandchildren bearing the negative consequences of your poor choices, you will think twice about making those poor choices. 

Cassuto’s take on the second commandment also rests on the idea that the seeds we plant inevitably bear fruit in the future. If we’re careful about the seeds we plant now, we will see and create a solid future, in which those who come after us flourish and in which the world we leave for them is a fruitful one.

Shabbat shalom.

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