One might have expected the first laws delivered after Har Sinai to reflect something lofty and transcendent, echoing the otherworldly nature of our divine encounter atop that mountain. Yet, the first halachot delivered after the Aseret Hadibrot do not address korbanot or ritual mitzvot. Likewise, they do not immediately describe the construction of a Mikdash Temple sanctuary or deliver statutes governing life in the Holy Land.
Instead, the initial halachot following Sinai address personal moral conduct and the formation of an ethical society. The foundation of religious life is moral integrity. Before introducing rituals, ceremonies, or prohibitions, Hashem demands that we act with decency and righteousness.
Additionally, a Torah lifestyle does more than cultivate refined moral behavior – it lays the foundation for an ethical and stable society. For this reason the majority of the laws in Parshat Mishpatim – the first section after Matan Torah– focus on social justice and the structures that uphold it.
The Weakest Links
A society is only as stable and moral as its commitment to protecting its most vulnerable members. Therefore, the laws in Mishpatim repeatedly return to the treatment of slaves.
While modern technology has thankfully eliminated the need for much manual labor, slavery was a tragic and widespread reality throughout history. The Torah carefully regulates our treatment of slaves, with particular concern for female slaves, who found themselves in an even more precarious position than male slaves.
Shabbat, Chagim and Social Cohesion
Likewise, The Torah spotlights our treatment of other vulnerable members of society, including orphans and widows, emphasizing their dignity and well-being.
Finally, the presentation of social laws concludes with a mention of Shabbat and the chagim. Though these sacred days carry profound philosophical and national meaning – recalling Creation and pivotal moments in Jewish history – they also serve an essential “social” function. Setting aside time and gathering to commemorate shared experiences form the glue that binds families and forges communal bonds that endure. On these days, we retell our collective story and, in recalling our shared narrative, reaffirm our commitment to communal living and selflessness. Shabbat and the festivals are not just moments of spiritual reflection – they are pillars of a stable and cohesive society.
The message behind this sequencing of mitzvot is unmistakable: Hashem expects us to build an ethical society rooted in justice, fairness, the equitable distribution of rights and resources, and the safeguarding of human dignity and freedom. Ideally, the Torah provides the blueprint for constructing a moral civilization.
Unfortunately, we did not always live up to these standards. During the First Mikdash, we became fixated on rituals and ceremonies at the expense of moral integrity. Hashem sent numerous nevi’im to rebuke us, warning against the hypocrisy of masking corruption behind the facade of Mikdash worship. But we refused to heed their calls and our obstinacy sealed the fate of the First Mikdash, bringing about its destruction.
A Larger Stage
For the past two thousand years, we have built communities founded on charity, compassion, and respect for human dignity. Remarkably, we succeeded – even under the most extreme and oppressive conditions. It was not easy to maintain ethical societies while confined to suffocating ghettos or being cast from land to land. Yet, by and large, we remained faithful to our national mission.
However, during our exile, without Jewish sovereignty, we lacked the ability to extend these ideals to the national sphere. Our aspirations remained confined to the walls of our own communities, awaiting the moment when they could take root on a national scale.
Now that we have returned to Israel and rebuilt a Jewish state, we are once again faced with both the challenge and the opportunity to create a society rooted in compassion and morality.
The tragic and horrific events of the past year and a half have provided a ghastly contrast, exposing the savagery of a society built upon violence and brutality. We face abominable murderers as enemies, and their cruelty and inhumanity deepen our appreciation for a world that upholds freedom and human dignity.
We also understand that, in the long run, societies founded on justice and compassion are stronger, more enduring, and more resilient. The test before us is not only to defend ourselves against those who revel in destruction but to ensure that our own nation embodies the highest ethical ideals.
Orthodox Recoil
However, Orthodox Jews sometimes overlook the significance of social justice and hesitate to champion its cause. Too often, there is a reflexive tendency to withdraw from platforms embraced by the non-Orthodox, as if a value emphasized outside our circles cannot belong to the moral framework of Orthodox Jewry.
This tendency has surfaced both in Israel and in Jewish communities abroad. In Israel, many secular parties have championed the cause of social justice, culminating in nationwide protests for tzedek hevrati 14 years ago. Unfortunately, many religious parties have ceded this platform to secular movements, as though fighting for social justice were not an integral part of our own tradition.
In the broader Jewish world, over the past two centuries, non-Orthodox movements have placed social justice and tikkun olam at the center of their religious identity – often at the expense of classic halachic observance. This led many Orthodox Jews to mistakenly assume that advocating for social justice had little place within an Orthodox value system.
Social justice is not the property of any single group. The pursuit of an ethical society is not a concession to modernity but a fulfillment of our ancient mission. We should not judge an idea’s validity based on who else adopts or promotes it.
Instead, Orthodox Jews must forge a society that embodies both Torah and mitzvot as well as moral integrity.
Betrayed
The broader cultural war against our people has also led us to recoil from the concept of social justice. For decades, Jews have been at the forefront of defending the rights of minorities and the underprivileged. Yet now, we watch in astonishment as many of those who benefited from our advocacy turn their backs on us, hypocritically and baselessly accusing us of moral crimes. Is our broader society worthy of social justice? Have the beneficiaries of social justice squandered their rights to a just society? Obviously the answer is yes, but their betrayal is grotesque, leaving a bitter taste and casting a shadow over the entire enterprise of social justice.
Even the word “justice” itself has been hijacked, distorted, and twisted into something unrecognizable. The heinous organization calling itself “Justice for Palestine” has incited violence against Jews across the world, sullying the word “justice” and weaponizing it for hatred. It is difficult to champion a cause when its language has been so thoroughly corrupted.
Yet, we cannot sink to the lowest rung of the moral ladder, and we cannot abandon the Torah’s vision of justice simply because others have defiled its name. We cannot allow the surrounding moral chaos to convince us that social justice is not an essential part of religious life. Social compassion is the legacy of Avraham Avinu, who was not only the father of our nation but also a protector of humanity, pleading even for the sinners of Sodom in a desperate attempt to spare them from destruction. Where there is injustice, Jews show up.
In our morally broken world, our lofty ideals are thrown back in our faces. The justice we championed has been perverted, and the causes we supported have, at times, turned against us. But that cannot deter us. We must continue striving for social justice – not because others demand it, but because it is our divine mandate and national legacy. It was the first foundation stone laid at Sinai.
