We often judge people – ourselves included – by what happens today.
We have a great day at work and we think of ourselves as loving our job.
We have a rough moment with our children and consider ourselves rotten parents.
Or, we view ourselves as failures after a weak moment and surrender to a particular temptation.
Of course the long view might suggest otherwise.
Today was a fabulous day at work, but in reality, I’m not particularly happy with my job.
I got angry with my children yesterday, but that doesn’t happen too often. We have a wonderful relationship.
I’ve got a superb track record kicking that old habit of mine. Indeed, I slipped up. But, I’m back on the wagon and haven’t fallen off since.
But, what if life really is a mixed bag? Sometimes I’m in love with my job and sometimes I hate it. I am improving, but I still struggle immensely with that bad habit. We bicker and fight, but my children and I also have lots of fun and they respect me a great deal.
So, how should we judge ourselves? Who is the real me?
***
In this week’s parsha Mishpatim we read about a Jewish servant. Slavery has a terrible connotation in our society, due to the history of slavery. And it should.
But, the concept of a servant in the Torah is not quite the same. As the Talmud puts it, “One who acquires a servant, acquires a master.” That’s because – according to Jewish law – if there’s only one piece of chicken for dinner it goes to the servant, not the master. Simply put, you must provide for your servant first.
Nonetheless becoming a servant is strongly discouraged in the Torah. There are only two ways one can become a Jewish servant. If someone stole property and does not have the means to repay the debt, the court can sell him as a servant for a six-year period. Afterwards, he automatically goes free. (He can always pay his way to freedom earlier if he comes up with the funds). Alternatively, if one is so poor that he sees no other means of survival, one may sell oneself as a servant. Again, such a servant is freed automatically after six years.
However, if the servant wishes to stay beyond the six-year term he may do so with two conditions. Firstly, his ear must be pierced. Secondly, he will nonetheless automatically be freed at the upcoming Jubilee year, whenever that is.
Why is his ear pierced?
The Talmud offers the following explanation: The ear that heard on Mount Sinai, “You shall not steal” and then went and stole, shall be bored. And if it’s one who sold himself into servitude, the reason is that the ear that heard, “For the children of Israel are slaves to Me” and then went and acquired a master for himself, this ear shall be bored.
We see from this passage how much the Torah disdains the entire concept of servitude to another human being. But, if becoming a servant is so abhorrent, why don’t we pierce his ear as soon as he becomes a servant? Why wait until his second term?
***
The Lubavitcher Rebbe presented a fascinating explanation (based on Rashi), which also demonstrates how we must judge ourselves and others.
When someone initially becomes a servant, although it is due to theft or desperation, we should and must always give them the benefit of the doubt. Yes, they stole, but perhaps they were momentarily in a bad place. Yes, they decided to give up trusting Hashem for sustenance and have thrown in their lot with a human master, but who are we to judge those that suffer from poverty? Perhaps they only acted under duress and really regret it.
Therefore, the Torah does not demand that we pierce the ear of a newly-minted servant. And, if they serve six years and go on to freedom, we renounce any negative association. It was a bump in the road, but certainly doesn’t reflect on who they really are.
If, however, the servant decides that he would rather choose servitude because, “I love my master... I will not go free,” this demonstrates that he was not only acting out of desperation or a momentary lapse. This preference for bondage over freedom is now a free choice. It retroactively reveals his true colors.
***
The amazing lesson for all of us is not to judge others – or ourselves – harshly. We may see a lapse, but that isn’t necessarily the person’s true identity. It’s only after a person makes a permanent avowal, that we can discover what lies beneath the surface.
If the Torah gives the most desperate in society the benefit of the doubt, how much more so must we extend that courtesy to our neighbors, friends and even ourselves.