Mishpatim
Exodus 21:1 – 24:18
By Jen Smith
Mishpatim is so often read as “the boring laws portion,” prompting readers to think: Oxen, damages, loans, and responsibility…where is the thunder, lightning, and dramatic revelation? And yet, Mishpatim is the hinge between Sinai’s fire and the building of sacred space, even when something shifts at the end of the portion.
Moses ascends the mountain again, the mystical cloud rests, and fire appears at the summit of Mt. Sinai.
We are back at Sinai. As you might remember, we are just one chapter away from the moment God begins giving instructions to build the Mishkan, the tabernacle that will one day evolve into the Temple in Jerusalem.
But here’s the question that lingered for me this week: How can God give instructions for a sacred structure whose ultimate form won’t exist for generations?
The Israelites are wandering in a desert, and Jerusalem isn’t even a glimmer in their eye…and yet, the blueprint already exists. The mystics teach that Torah precedes creation itself. Before there was desert or mountain or nation, there was divine wisdom: a pattern, a structure, an architecture of holiness.
If Time lives inside creation, then Torah stands beyond it. So, when describing a sanctuary in Mishpatim, rather than predicting the future, God is revealing an eternal design.
The Mishkan in the desert; the Temple built centuries later by King Solomon; our synagogues today…. Each is a manifestation of something already real in the spiritual dimension. Jerusalem did not create the sacred – Sacredness made Jerusalem possible.
And what makes this even more radical is the order. Before we receive the details of sacred architecture, we receive the civil law. Before reveling before golden menorot, we learn of returning lost property; before praying at altars, we are warned against oppressing the stranger; before incense rises, justice must rise.
Mishpatim is a sobering reminder that if we truly want to nurture a dwelling place for the Divine, we must begin with how we treat other people.
The mystics describe divine flow through the Sefirot, or channels of sacred energy. When we act with compassion, we activate Chesed (loving kindness). When we establish fair boundaries, we strengthen Gevurah (justice). When compassion and discipline harmonize, we create Tiferet (beauty).
Sacred space is not marble and gold – It is the alignment of our moral energies.
Mishpatim teaches that the real foundation of the Mishkan is our ethical behavior, Justice is the supporting beam, and Compassion is the gold overlay. Finally, Integrity is the curtain that separates chaos from holiness.
Twelfth century biblical scholar, Rambam1, explains that the Mishkan is essentially a portable Sinai. We read that fire descends, a mystical cloud hovers, and God’s divine presence fills the space atop Mount Sinai. The same can be said for in the Mishkan. In the Mishkan, the sanctuary becomes Revelation made sustainable.
We cannot live forever at the summit of spiritual intensity. As humans, we need structure, repetition, and practice. Holiness must become something we embody, rather than a portable tool. Maybe this is the enduring lesson hidden inside Mishpatim: The drama of Revelation is ephemeral, and Responsibility and commitment are enduring.
A couple years ago, I read an essay by Esther Kosofsky, explaining how, in many ways, the Mishkan in the desert mirrors the human condition.
The Ark symbolizes the heart as it is the keeper of memory and covenant.
The Menorah is compared to the mind with branching wisdom and illuminated insight.
The Altar symbolizes our innate passions, characterized by the fire of longing and drive.
Finally, the Courtyard is compared to the vessel of the body where our intentions become action.
The sanctuary to which God refers in Mishpatim is not only a building in a future Jerusalem; it is the architecture of the soul. And this reframes the portion all together because the Temple was never just about geography…. it was always about sacred alignment.
The blueprint for redemption has been born within us from the beginning.
Each Shabbat, the challah rises, falls, and rises again. Just as Life contracts and expands in an infinite cycle. At TBA, we build community service by service, committee by committee, school day by day, holiday by holiday, event by event, act of generosity by act of generosity, mitzvah by mitzvah. And while we might long for the overwhelming transcendence of the revelation at Sinai, we live mostly in Mishpatim days framed by small choices, quiet decency, showing up for others, and repairing what is broken.
To quote Lin-Manual Miranda and Hamilton, Revelation isn’t a moment – it’s a movement. It rises through our small decisions, our acts of justice, and our disciplined compassion. It is communal construction project that is shaped in kitchens and courtrooms, carpools and community meetings, and every act of fairness and restraint; and holiness is the mortar, transforming our ordinary work into sacred craftsmanship.
Shabbat Shalom!