From Ritual to Virtues Parshat Mishpatim R. Yonatan Cohen

At the end of Parshat Yitro we are instructed: “Do not ascend My altar by steps, that your nakedness may not be exposed upon it” (Exodus 20:23). According to Rashi we are commanded to build a ramp that will lead up to the altar, as opposed to stairs, in order to sharpen our own sense of modesty, as the wideness of the stairs might lead us to expose some nakedness to the stones themselves.

Rashi further explains: “Now these matters are a kal vachomer [a fortiori] conclusion, that if [concerning] these stones which have no intelligence to object to their humiliation the Torah said that because they are necessary, you shall not behave toward them in a humiliating manner. [In contrast,] your friend, who is [created] in the likeness of your Creator and who does object to being humiliated, how much more [must you be careful not to embarrass him]!”

Rashi’s insight lines up neatly with a genre of midrashim that extrapolate ethical interpersonal teachings from our conduct towards ritual objects. For example, we famously cover the challahs at the shabbat table in order to shield and cover over their embarrassment as we give preferential treatment to wine, which gets to be blessed first. Similarly, during Rosh Chodesh Mussaf, we insist on covering up the very teffilin which are removed in order to mark the primacy of Rosh Chodesh as a minor holiday. In both cases, the call to demonstrate sensitivity towards ritual objects becomes a means of raising consciousness and sensitivity in our interpersonal relations. In this way, the space of ritual observance is extended into the social milieu.

Our sages pushed the moral thrust of this teaching even further by establishing an astounding homiletical connection between this very last verse of Parshat Yitro and the opening sections of our Torah portion, Parshat Mishpatim, which primarily focus on interpersonal relations. According to Bar‐ Kappara in Tractate Sanhedrin 7b, the juxtaposition of the texts is meant to caution judges against haughtiness (“Do not ascend” is therefore understood as “Do not condescend!”) and to counsel patience and humility in judgment.

In a similar vein, R. Eliezer notes: “From whence do we know that a judge must not step over the heads of the holy people?” For R. Eliezer, the injunction to ascend the altar through stairs is transferred to the halls of the very courts that uphold civil society. Judges should not trample over the heads of the very people whom they are meant to judge. Here the ritual command levels the playing field, at least on the level of attitudes and dispositions, between defendants and judge.

Whether the stairs to the altar teach about modesty or humility, be it in the social milieu or the courthouse, it is plainly clear that for the rabbis our desire to draw closer to God (by ascending the altar) serves as a foundation for our moral conduct. Put differently, spirituality is the means (or the stairs) and morality is the end (or the altar set at the top).

Psalm 24, which we tellingly recite as we return the Torah to the Ark on weekdays and on Yom Tov, poses the following question: “Who may climb the mountain of the Lord? Who may stand in His holy place?” To which the psalmist replies: “He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who has not taken My name in vain, or sworn deceitfully.” Moral conduct (clean hands), good virtues (a pure heart), and upholding justice and truth (not taking God’s name in vain through false testimony) are the very steps that lead up towards God’s holy abode. May we who seek this closeness to God heed the teachings of the psalmist and our rabbis, and use every ritual as an opportunity to elevate our personal virtues and guide our path in all areas of life.