In America, freedom is foundational to our sense of individualism. We were reared on it from elementary school. There we learned that in a land of opportunity we could be anything we wanted to be. To Jews, freedom is also foundational. We were reared on Jewish freedom from the time we could recite the Four Questions as children at Passover. When we read the Passover story, we participated in the Exodus journey that brought us out from Egypt and to the hope of the Promised Land. Freedom liberates us, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, to become what we’re intended to be.

Ironically, freedom has limits. By design, Jewish freedom from Egypt was not just liberation from slavery. It was also redemption by a compassionate and just God, but the purpose of redemption would be found in revelation at Sinai. There, the Israelite people stood to behold the Laws. The Laws would define, shape, and convene the mixed multitude into an “Am,” a nation and a people. At Sinai, they wrestled with, but ultimately embraced, the relationship that bound them to an Eternal Covenant with God reflected in the Teachings that became Torah, in all its words and interpretations. God made the covenant with “those who were standing there that day and with those who were not standing there that day” (Deuteronomy 29). The selfsame covenant binds us to all that is Torah, too.

In Judaism, freedom is not the permission to act with abandon. Instead, freedom is a responsibility to live by a set of rules and laws that bring us into community with others who choose to live by the same set of rules and laws. Some of us are born into the covenant and others choose it freely. Though some are born into it, it’s been said, convincingly, that in a land of freedom and choice, we’re all “choosing Jews.” When we interpret age-old teachings for their relevance and sacred use, we highlight ethics and morals that celebrate humanity and observe ritual and holy days to express our relationship to and reverence for God.

In this week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim, which are judgments and rules, we get a lengthy list of Torah teachings ripe for interpretation. Though many teach us about ritual observance, many more teach us about ethical obligations to humanity. Likewise, Mishnah and Talmud are replete with full descriptions of how to be Jewish, but the bulk of their teachings and conclusions speak about our ethical obligations. They are at the root of a sacred community. The texts describe not only ideals, but also norms for sacred living that aim for peace between neighbors, even when those neighbors are adversaries. For example:

• “In a place where there is no leader, strive to be a leader” (Mishnah Pirkei Avot 2:5).
• “What is hateful to you, do not do to others. All the rest is commentary. Go and learn it!” (Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 31a).
• The principle, mipnei darkei shalom, for the sake of peace, is an obligation between Jews, and between Jews and non-Jews, to do what is necessary to make peace between them (Mishnah Gittin 5:8).

Our texts are timeless guides for life as Jews. They still provide wise answers to questions we ask in our times. It’s like the adage, “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” or as Ecclesiastes wisely taught, “There’s nothing new under the sun” (1:9).

As Americans and Jews, we understand well the meaning of and the hope for freedom. Only when we are free can we choose our eternal covenant that leads us to timeless and timely Torah teachings. As we also learn, “[Torah’s] ways are ways of pleasantness, and all its paths are peace. It is a tree of life to them that hold fast to it, and all of its supporters are happy.” (Proverbs 3:17-18).

L’Shalom,