Loopholes. The Rabbis love loopholes. So much of halacha, Jewish law, is actually trying to figure out ways to get around our law code. I looked up a list of the best Jewish loopholes, and there were so many good ones.

The Shabbos elevator – being able to use an elevator in a hotel in Israel for example because it’s already set to stop on every floor so you don’t have to do anything unshabbosdik to get to where you’re going. Or one that we did this week – siyyum for the fast of the first born – The day of the first seder is a fast day, but if someone has studied a Jewish text and completed their learning, they can have a siyyum, a completion ceremony on that learning, and a siyyum must be accompanied by food, so that supersedes fasting, and once you’ve eaten at the siyyum you’ve overridden the fast. Eruv is another good one – turning public space into private space so that somehow an entire city like Bexley becomes one giant private space that we can all carry in and push strollers around in.

But one of the best loophole moves the rabbis make is what they do with the ben tzorer u’moreh – the stubborn and rebellious child.

כִּֽי־יִהְיֶ֣ה לְאִ֗ישׁ בֵּ֚ן סוֹרֵ֣ר וּמוֹרֶ֔ה אֵינֶ֣נּוּ שֹׁמֵ֔עַ בְּק֥וֹל אָבִ֖יו וּבְק֣וֹל אִמּ֑וֹ וְיִסְּר֣וּ אֹת֔וֹ וְלֹ֥א יִשְׁמַ֖ע אֲלֵיהֶֽם׃

If a man has a wayward and defiant son, who does not heed his father or mother and does not obey them even after they discipline him,

וְתָ֥פְשׂוּ ב֖וֹ אָבִ֣יו וְאִמּ֑וֹ וְהוֹצִ֧יאוּ אֹת֛וֹ אֶל־זִקְנֵ֥י עִיר֖וֹ וְאֶל־שַׁ֥עַר מְקֹמֽוֹ׃

his father and mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his town at the public place of his community.

וְאָמְר֞וּ אֶל־זִקְנֵ֣י עִיר֗וֹ בְּנֵ֤נוּ זֶה֙ סוֹרֵ֣ר וּמֹרֶ֔ה אֵינֶ֥נּוּ שֹׁמֵ֖עַ בְּקֹלֵ֑נוּ זוֹלֵ֖ל וְסֹבֵֽא׃

They shall say to the elders of his town, “This son of ours is disloyal and defiant; he does not heed us. He is a glutton and a drunkard.”

וּ֠רְגָמֻ֠הוּ כּל־אַנְשֵׁ֨י עִיר֤וֹ בָֽאֲבָנִים֙ וָמֵ֔ת וּבִֽעַרְתָּ֥ הָרָ֖ע מִקִּרְבֶּ֑ךָ וְכל־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל יִשְׁמְע֥וּ וְיִרָֽאוּ׃

Thereupon the people of his town shall stone him to death. Thus you will sweep out evil from your midst: all Israel will hear and be afraid.

The death penalty! Seems incredibly harsh. And we’re not the only ones who think so. The rabbis go to extreme lengths in the mishna and the talmud to limit this case to such an extent that it actually cannot exist in reality. In Massechet Sanhedrin we see the Gemara placing extreme limitations on the original verse.

Rabbi Yehuda says: If his mother was not identical to his father in voice, appearance, and height, he cannot be categorized as a stubborn and rebellious son. The Gemara asks: What is the reason for this? The verse states:

“ אֵינֶ֥נּוּ שֹׁמֵ֖עַ בְּקֹלֵ֑נוּ

,” “He will not obey our voices [kolenu]” (Deuteronomy 21:20), which indicates that they both have the same voice. And since we require that they be identical in voice, we also require that they be identical in appearance and height.

And then it goes even further to say

בֵּן סוֹרֵר וּמוֹרֶה לֹא הָיָה וְלֹא עָתִיד לִהְיוֹת,

The Gemara asks: There has never been a stubborn and rebellious son and there will never be one in the future.

Why? Because the rabbis have limited this case to such an extent that it is no longer possible to fulfill all of the characteristics and criteria.
Hold onto that idea for a minute. I’ve been thinking about this law in the Torah, and the limitations placed on it by the rabbis, this week after it was announced that the Knesset just voted on a new proposal to enact the death penalty in military courts in Israel. According to the proposal, the Minister of Defense would instruct the military commander to change the procedures of the military courts in the territories, so that the death penalty would be a mandatory punishment for offenses involving causing death motivated by terrorism. It would be death by hanging.

This law is inherently discriminatory and racist because only Palestinian residents of the territories are tried in military court. Any violent Israeli offenders would be tried in civil court where this law would not be applied. To make the law even more specific, the definition of the offense punishable by death in Israeli military courts focuses on the intent to negate the existence of the State of Israel, which in effect directs the death penalty only to Arabs.

Proponents of the law in Itamar ben Gvir’s Otzma Yehudit party somehow have convinced themselves and a majority of lawmakers that this bill sanctifies life. “This is a day on which the State of Israel chose life,” said Otzma Yehudit MK Limor Son Har-Melech, who spearheaded the law, calling it an example of “true Jewish morality.”

The opposition and uproar and backlash to this bill has been swift, vocal, and strong. Member of Knesset Gilad Kariv, who is on the Knesset National Security Committee and has been among the law’s fiercest opponents, said, “This is an immoral law that contradicts the foundational values of the State of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state, and the provisions of international law that Israel has undertaken to uphold.”

As countries around the world, except for the United States and a few others, move away from the death penalty, either abolishing it entirely or limiting it to an extremely small set of cases like the rabbis with ben tzorer u’moreh, to think that the Jewish and Democratic state of Israel, that we always hope and pray will be a light among the nations, would adopt such a law is beyond comprehension.

It feels especially charged to enact such a law this week, as Jews around the world gathered together to celebrate our freedom from Egypt and re-enact the story of our freedom. In the midst of that story, we see another death penalty play out in the extreme – the tenth plague – the death of the firstborn children in Egypt.

At first glance, it seems that this plague was the final straw that broke Pharoah’s resolve and allowed the Israelites to go free. The Israelites themselves appear to be protected from the destruction and chaos.

But even the text itself exposes this facade for the truth that lies beneath. In the Talmud in Bava Kamma it says,

What is the meaning of what is written about the plague of the firstborn:

״וְאַתֶּם לֹא תֵצְאוּ אִישׁ מִפֶּתַח בֵּיתוֹ עַד בֹּקֶר״

?“And none of you shall go out of the opening of his house until the morning” (Ex. 12:22) If the plague was not decreed upon the Jewish people, why were they not permitted to leave their homes? The answer is that once permission is granted to the destroyer to kill, it does not distinguish between the righteous and the wicked. If they were to go outside, they would be killed as well.

When the killing starts, it is indiscriminate. There is no way to differentiate, and if you allow some to be killed, it is clear where the path descends. You can’t say it applies to these people and not to these people.

In the plague itself, not a single household was spared:

וַיְהִ֣י ׀ בַּחֲצִ֣י הַלַּ֗יְלָה ה׳ הִכָּ֣ה כל־בְּכוֹר֮ בְּאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֒יִם֒ מִבְּכֹ֤ר פַּרְעֹה֙ הַיֹּשֵׁ֣ב עַל־כִּסְא֔וֹ עַ֚ד בְּכ֣וֹר הַשְּׁבִ֔י אֲשֶׁ֖ר בְּבֵ֣ית הַבּ֑וֹר וְכֹ֖ל בְּכ֥וֹר בְּהֵמָֽה׃

In the middle of the night GOD struck down all the first-born in the land of Egypt, from the first-born of Pharaoh who sat on the throne to the first-born of the captive who was in the dungeon… 12:29-30

וַיָּ֨קם פַּרְעֹ֜ה לַ֗יְלָה ה֤וּא וְכל־עֲבָדָיו֙ וְכל־מִצְרַ֔יִם וַתְּהִ֛י צְעָקָ֥ה גְדֹלָ֖ה בְּמִצְרָ֑יִם כִּֽי־אֵ֣ין בַּ֔יִת אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֵֽין־שָׁ֖ם מֵֽת׃

And Pharaoh arose in the night, with all his courtiers and all the Egyptians—because there was a loud cry in Egypt; for there was no house where there was not someone dead.

Destruction and devastation lead to more destruction and devastation. And discriminate killing eventually leads to indiscriminate killing. It’s an unstoppable cycle. I believe that Judaism is better than this. I believe that Israel is better than this. I know so many of our people are hurting and angry and distraught, but I have to imagine that vengeance against those who take vengeance against us just continues to lead to more vengeance.
Back to ben tzorer – Why did the rabbis limit the case so much? Because they were so uncomfortable with the concept of stoning someone, even someone who had done terrible things, that they had to find a way around it. I was often taught that sometimes the laws in the bible and talmud seem barbaric to our modern eye but that if we look at them in the context of the time they were written they are actually the most moral laws of their time. But today is it possible they seem more moral than the laws being enacted now?

Given that the stoning of the rebellious child actually does take place in the Bible, you might think the limitation in the Talmud was just the rabbis’ queasiness, but no. The Torah itself, in the very next verse, shares the same discomfort:

וְכִֽי־יִהְיֶ֣ה בְאִ֗ישׁ חֵ֛טְא מִשְׁפַּט־מָ֖וֶת וְהוּמָ֑ת וְתָלִ֥יתָ אֹת֖וֹ עַל־עֵֽץ׃

If someone is guilty of a capital offense and is put to death, and you hang them on a tree,

לֹא־תָלִ֨ין נִבְלָת֜וֹ עַל־הָעֵ֗ץ כִּֽי־קָב֤וֹר תִּקְבְּרֶ֙נּוּ֙ בַּיּ֣וֹם הַה֔וּא כִּֽי־קִלְלַ֥ת אֱלֹהִ֖ים תָּל֑וּי וְלֹ֤א תְטַמֵּא֙ אֶת־אַדְמָ֣תְךָ֔ אֲשֶׁר֙ ה׳ אֱלֹהֶ֔יךָ נֹתֵ֥ן לְךָ֖ נַחֲלָֽה׃

you must not let the corpse remain on the tree overnight, but must bury it the same day. For a hanged body is an affront to God: you shall not defile the land that the God is giving you to possess.

Even God cannot bear to see someone hanged. Even someone guilty of capital offense. It is actually a defilement of the land itself. Rashi in his commentary looks at those words

כי קללת אלהים תלוי

, “A hanged person is an affront to God,” and understands that this is because man is made in God’s image, so it is as if we are hanging God. He brings a parable: It may be compared to the case of two twin brothers who very closely resembled each other: one became king and the other was arrested for robbery and was hanged. Whoever saw him on the gallows thought that the king was hanged (Sanhedrin 46b).

What are we to do with all of this today?

Right before Chag, the Rabbinical Assembly, my rabbi union, put out a statement written by Rabbi Arie Hasit, a dear friend and mentor, which I wanted to share with you. He wrote, “Jewish law is ambivalent about the death penalty. Alongside famous Talmudic statements opposing capital punishment by a rabbinic court, Maimonides and others make clear that secular governments — whether a king or other ruling authority — are fully within their rights to use the death penalty as a means of preventing further murder.

And yet, while Jewish law is ambivalent about capital punishment, it is not ambivalent about the centrality of a rigorous justice system. The law passed by the Knesset seeks to compel any court to impose capital punishment even against the court’s own judgment, and to do so speedily — prioritizing deterrence over due process.

In the name of the sanctity of life, we affirm that fighting terror is of utmost importance. We reiterate our disgust at the kidnapping of civilians and soldiers as leverage for the release of convicted murderers — but even in the face of the cruelest realities, we refuse to countenance a law that violates so many principles we hold dear. We must always remember that Judaism’s emphasis on the sanctity of life applies to all people, of all religions and all nationalities. A law meant to protect Jewish or Israeli life while remaining cavalier regarding Palestinian life goes against one of the most basic principles of Judaism. We must reject this law and insist on proper due process and justice for all who are brought before the court, regardless of nationality or the crime of which they are accused.”

So there is no action item for us this morning, just an exposition and analysis on where we are at today as characters in our people’s ever evolving story. But if there is anything the Passover story is supposed to teach us, it is that the lesson we are supposed to have learned from our time in slavery is to never let that happen again, to anyone. We open our doors to all those who are hungry and all those who are in need. We teach our children about hope and faith and promise, and though we never forget the trauma of our past, we imagine a future that is better than what we’ve lived through, and we imagine ourselves doing better than what was done to us. I hope that we, and all those who have the power to enact change, can continue to remember that.

Kein yehi ratzon, Shabbat Shalom.

When Moses wanted to see God in the parsha what does God say about Godself? The 13 attributes

וַיַּעֲבֹ֨ר ה׳ וַיִּקְרָא֒ ה׳ ה׳ אֵ֥ל רַח֖וּם וְחַנּ֑וּן אֶ֥רֶךְ אַפַּ֖יִם וְרַב־חֶ֥סֶד וֶאֱמֶֽת׃

The ETERNAL passed before him and proclaimed: “GOD! GOD! a Deity compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness,

נֹצֵ֥ר חֶ֙סֶד֙ לָאֲלָפִ֔ים נֹשֵׂ֥א עָון וָפֶ֖שַׁע וְחַטָּאָ֑ה וְנַקֵּה֙ לֹ֣א יְנַקֶּ֔ה פֹּקֵ֣ד ׀ עֲון אָב֗וֹת עַל־בָּנִים֙ וְעַל־בְּנֵ֣י בָנִ֔ים עַל־שִׁלֵּשִׁ֖ים וְעַל־רִבֵּעִֽים׃

extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin—yet not remitting all punishment, but visiting the iniquity of parents upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.”

Rabbi Sacks – https://rabbisacks.org/covenant-conversation/mishpatim/loving-the-stranger/