Earlier today, I went through the Student Handbook with my advisee group at the school where I teach. We reviewed the Honor Code, Major School Rules, and Statement of Expectations, as we do every year, and my advisees proceeded to sign an electronic statement to affirm that they had reviewed the Handbook and were committed to respecting all the rules. As we talked, sunshine streamed in through the windows and a soft chirp of crickets could be heard floating in, and my advisees, lovely, honest, and disciplined individuals that they are, kvetched about having to sit inside and review a list of rules that are drilled into them every year, when they could have been outside, done with classes for the day. Our conversation was peppered with remarks like:
“Why doesn’t the school just trust us to read these on our own?”
“Has anyone even done half of these things? They sound ridiculous!”
“So, basically, just be a good human?”
Naturally, this got me thinking about this week’s Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, a long list of rules and commandments that, like the Student Handbook, I read year after year. The commandments kick off with an injunction to allow a captured woman a month to mourn her parents before taking her to wife. A few verses later, one learns that they must pay fifty shekels to the father of a woman who has been raped (and, by extension, taken possession of) and then must remain married to her. Soon thereafter, we learn that a man with damaged sexual organs “shall not be admitted into the congregation of the Eternal.” And, whatever you do, don’t bring “the fee of a whore or the pay of a dog into the house of the Eternal your God in fulfillment of any vow, for both are abhorrent.” Other commandments in this portion are less confusing and/or horrifying, such as the injunction to protect a slave who has come to you looking for refuge from their master. Still, in reading through the list of mitzvot, I found myself asking versions of the same questions my students had:
“Do we really need to read these things, year after year?”
“Has anyone even done half of these things in the 21st century? They sound ridiculous!”
“So, basically, just be a good human?”
The Torah fascinates as an historical document as well as a spiritual one and, like my advisees with the Student Handbook, I find some of its commandments amusing or confusing. In both scenarios, however, I can appreciate the intentionality of looking for ways to codify human behavior so that people feel protected, by the standards of their time. Moreover, I am grateful for people who seek to protect others and to guarantee that even the most abused, destitute, or excluded among us are seen and, in some measure, cared for. Every summer, our school’s Student Handbook is revised by a team of educators and administrators, armed with the latest resources to best support our community with the recent psychological and sociological research, a luxury that has not been afforded the Torah, but I feel in both a desire to do good, to help others understand and respect boundaries, and to protect humans from their baser instincts.
It may not make for easily applicable reading, and no one is saying that we need to read all the fine print, but I am grateful for this human tradition of setting boundaries, seeking justice, and acknowledging the struggles of others. However we go about pursuing these goals, may we always do it in a spirit of love and compassion, for ourselves as well as others, as we go out into the world.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rebecca Abbate
