I had a highly spiritual service on Shabbat morning. Psalm 30 says “What profit if I am silenced. What benefit if I go to my grave. Will the dust praise You?” Ahead of my birthday and perhaps in honor of it, I felt like if I never could give another sermon, this one, this one is important.

Today’s portion is called Mishpatim. Laws. After the heights, literally the heights of last week and our receiving the 10 Commandments, the 10 Sayings, we get all the details of how to create this society. The rules, the laws, the commandments. All of them, or at least most of them.  

In the prayer Ahavat Olam, which we sing in the evening sing, Torah u’mitzvot, chukim umishpatim. Stew describes this prayer as the ultimate love song. G-d loves us. I’ll add, we know this, because G-d gives us limits, just like a loving Parent. But are these words just synonyms?  Not exactly. 

• Torah, can mean the Torah scroll, the 5 Books of Moses, or Instruction or Teaching 
• Mitzvot, Commandment, or good deed (in Yiddish) 
• Hukim, rules, law that we don’t seemingly know the reason for, for example not mixing wool and linen, shatnes, or in last week’s portion not using iron to shape stone.  
• Mishpatim: Mishpatim are those laws for which we know the reason. They make sense.  Examples are the prohibition of stealing and of taking bribes. These are laws that any normal and decent society would enact. They are part of the Noahid laws. Today we are going to talk about just two of them. And this sermon might need to come with a trigger warning. So if this sermon starts to get to you, do what you need to do. Walk away for a bit. Turn your camera off. Call a friend. Call me later. Whatever you need to do for you.  

וְגֵ֥ר לֹא־תוֹנֶ֖ה וְלֹ֣א תִלְחָצֶ֑נּוּ כִּֽי־גֵרִ֥ים הֱיִיתֶ֖ם בְּאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ 

You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. 

כׇּל־אַלְמָנָ֥ה וְיָת֖וֹם לֹ֥א תְעַנּֽוּן׃ 

You shall not ill-treat any widow or orphan.
 אִם־עַנֵּ֥ה תְעַנֶּ֖ה אֹת֑וֹ כִּ֣י אִם־צָעֹ֤ק יִצְעַק֙ אֵלַ֔י שָׁמֹ֥עַ אֶשְׁמַ֖ע צַעֲקָתֽוֹ׃ 

If you do mistreat them, I will heed their outcry as soon as they cry out to Me, 
וְחָרָ֣ה אַפִּ֔י וְהָרַגְתִּ֥י אֶתְכֶ֖ם בֶּחָ֑רֶב וְהָי֤וּ נְשֵׁיכֶם֙ אַלְמָנ֔וֹת וּבְנֵיכֶ֖ם יְתֹמִֽים׃ {פ} 

and My anger shall blaze forth and I will put you to the sword, and your own wives shall become widows and your children orphans. 

The text is a command. An imperative. And negative. And very clear!  Don’t do it! You just had this experience of being a stranger, of being a slave.  Do not put it on others. 36 times in the Torah it tells us to take care of the widow, the orphan the stranger—the most marginalized amongst us. I have talked about this frequently. In the Talmud, which tells us it is 36 times, it then argues with itself, may it is really 46 times. (Bava Metzia 59b) But unlike most Talmud texts so good at giving us the footnotes, it does not supply the list. One year I built the—if you need my annotated bibliography on this topic, which we used for Shavuot one year, I’ve got it. 

But why—why 36 or 46 times? Much more than “don’t eat pork.” Much more than “love your neighbor as yourself.” If something is repeated, we know it is there for emphasis. We really, really (see the emphasis) need to do this! Perhaps it is because we really, really need to do this. And perhaps it is because we need the constant reminder precisely because it is so hard to do.  

Two weeks ago, a rabbi opened a door for a stranger. He gave him tea. I might have too. The safety and security team has met. We have reminded ourselves that this is not so simple. How do we balance the need for safety and security with the commandment to welcome the stranger? How do we remain warm and welcoming? It is an ongoing process. And I have given this sermon before. Quoting Yossi Klein Halevii, there are two kinds of Jews. Purim Jews, where we are afraid of everyone because anyone might be Amalek. And Passover Jews, where we welcome the stranger because we were strangers in Egypt. That sermon is here: 

https://www.theenergizerrabbi.org/wp-admin/post.php?post=91962&action=edit 

But actually, as important as that is message is, it is not what I want to talk about today.  My chevruta partner, my study partner, Rabbi Linda Shriner Cahn and I are studying Rabbi Jonathan Sack’s Lessons in Leadership. He talks about why Mishpatim follows the 10 Commandments. It is the difference between the vision—the 10 Commandments and Mishpatim, the details—the actual rules. The devil is in the details. I would add that it is like the guy who has a great idea, the vision, for start-up and then needs to step aside to grow the company.  

And in the story. The story is important here. Each law has a story behind it and why it is enacted. Perhaps some of this is YOUR story. 

This story is all of our stories. We are all to see ourselves as if we went forth from Egypt, out of the narrow places, out of the birth canal. We all walked through the parted sea, exclaiming, “This is my G-d.” We all stood at Sinai. 

The story is important. Both in our parsha and in our American judicial system. 

It is no accident at all that I am drinking out of a mug today, that one of you gave me. Women belong in all the places where decisions are being made. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. There has been a lot of discussion this week about women and justice. We’ll leave that for media and for the president, the Supreme Court and the Senate. However, this month also marks the 49th anniversary of Roe v Wade, for which RBG was instrumental in ensuring. That’s worth commenting on, especially this week. 

This week we mark something called Repro Shabbat. Started by the National Council of Jewish Women which was founded in Chicago during the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893, just one year after the founding of Congregation Kneseth Israel in 1892.  

Judaism—where we fight about everything—permits abortion. For many reasons, including the life of the mother. This includes the mental health of the mother. In Judaism we talk about the potential life. There is a difference between potential life, and life itself. Judaism usually regards life beginning not at conception—the Catholic understanding, but when the infant is halfway out the birth canal. Or when the baby takes its first breath. 

What is clear, is that the strongest argument in Biblical argument for permitting abortion comes this very parsha, right from Exodus, Chapter 21, Verse 22-23,  “If people are fighting and hit a pregnant woman and she gives birth prematurely but there is no serious injury, the offender must be fined whatever the woman’s husband demands and the court allows. But if there is serious injury, you are to take a life for a life.” It continues with the famous quote eye for eye, tooth for tooth. However, these were always seen as monetary damages. (That’s a sermon for another time.) 

In this passage, “gives birth prematurely” could mean the woman miscarries, and the fetus dies. Because there’s no expectation that the person who caused the miscarriage is liable for murder. This proves that the fetus not considered (yet) a soul. Rather there is a distinction made between life and potential life.  

The Talmud is also helpful when discussing abortion. The Talmud explains that for the first 40 days of a woman’s pregnancy, the fetus is considered “mere fluid” and considered part of the mother until birth.  

Now, no one usually wants to be in a position to have to choose an abortion, but the fact that it is permissible is very different than the understanding in Catholicism which believes that life begins at conception, for instance. They argue that Roe v Wade infringes on their freedom of religion. Several years ago, I was asked to serve on Saint Joseph’s Hospital Community Leadership Board. When Ed Hunter came to ask me to serve, I laughed. I reminded him that I was a rabbi. He said he knew. And a woman rabbi at that. He said that was obvious. I added that as such I might feel compelled to be outspoken about abortion and birth control (which I have been for a long time). He responded that it was precisely that reason I was being asked. Then we both laughed, and I agreed to serve. So far, my biggest contribution seems to be around access to mental health services. 

The question is really a bigger question than a woman’s right to abortion or contraception. I stand in a long line of Biblical women concerned about women’s access to health care and reproductive choices. Sarah who wanted Hagar to be a surrogate. Shifra and Puah, the midwives who delivered the baby boys in Egypt under threat of death. Miriam with her skin disease being put outside the camp. Hannah praying for a son. Naomi and Ruth. Esther.  

The real issue, it seems to me, is back to the question of taking care of the widow, the orphan, the stranger and needing to have one set of laws, mishpatim for both stranger and citizen.  

How? How do we do that?  

We know that even if Roe v Wade is overturned, (sadly) women of certain means will continue to get safe abortions when they feel they need them. It really becomes a question of access to health care for all women and so this morning I proudly drink out of my mug that says a woman belongs in all places where decisions are being made. 

This week we will mark Rosh Hodesh Adar 1. Rosh Hodesh, a half holiday dedicated to women. Adar, Be Happy, It’s Adar, when we celebrate Esther, the woman who saved her people. “If you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will come from another place. And who knows perhaps you are in this time and place for such a time as this.”  

As your rabbi, ordained to preach, teach and judge in Israel, I am proud to serve as your rabbi and I will continue to speak out so that we take care of the women, the orphan and the stranger, precisely because of this week’s Torah portion and this mug.