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Why Exodus Has No Emancipation Proclamation

Co-dependence, Responsibility, and the Torah’s Slow Architecture of Emancipation

Madlik Disruptive Torah

Feb 12

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In 1845, Henry David Thoreau walked into the woods to live deliberately.

He built a cabin at Walden Pond. He rejected society. He became the icon of radical independence.

There’s just one problem.

The cabin wasn’t that far from town. He had dinner guests. His mother did his laundry.

The myth survived. The facts did not.

We love the fantasy of absolute freedom.

Free Tibet.
Free Palestine.
Freedom Now.

Slogans are easy. Civilizations are hard.

And then you open Parshat Mishpatim.

The Israelites have just been freed from slavery. The sea has split. Egypt lies behind them. History has pivoted.

You expect fireworks. You expect Abraham Lincoln to appear at Sinai and read an emancipation proclamation.

Instead, the Torah says:

“When you acquire a male Hebrew slave, he shall serve six years; in the seventh year he shall go free, without payment.” (Exodus 21:2)

Wait. What?

The first civil law given to a nation of former slaves regulates slavery.

Why?

The Danger of Bumper-Sticker Freedom

Yeshayahu Leibowitz warned that religion becomes dangerous when it fuses with politics and inflates into messianic idealism.

The Exodus, he insisted, is not “Let my people go — full stop.”

It is:

Let My people go that they may serve Me.

Freedom in Judaism is not autonomy. It is service.

Leibowitz feared the corruption of religion by ideology, state power and false messianism — freedom slogans masquerading as redemption. When liberty becomes ideology, law becomes expendable. Responsibility becomes suspect. Community becomes secondary.

Rabbi Shlomo Riskin used to quote Viktor Frankl:

America placed the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast. It should place a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast.

Liberty without responsibility becomes chaos.
Responsibility without liberty becomes tyranny.

The Torah refuses both extremes.

The First Law After Liberation

Mishpatim opens:

“These are the rules that you shall set before them.” (Exodus 21:1)

And immediately:

“When you acquire a male Hebrew slave…”

Ramban is struck by this:

“G-d began the first ordinance with the subject of a Hebrew servant, because the liberation of the servant in the seventh year contains a remembrance of the departure from Egypt…”

The law of the slave is actually a law of release.

And the Torah embeds memory into economics:

“You shall not wrong or oppress a stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 22:20)

Ironically, even in the Ten Commandments these just-freed slaves are told:

“You… your son or daughter, your male or female slave… shall not do any work.” (Exodus 20:10)

Even at the first Passover these just-freed slaves are told that when they celebrate the the Passover in the future… they will have their own slaves who they should include in the seder:

“Any slave you have bought… may eat of it.” (Exodus 12:44)

Freedom does not erase social reality.
It restructures it.

Is the Torah Endorsing Slavery?

Modern readers recoil. Shouldn’t the Torah abolish slavery outright?

TheTorah.com highlights something crucial: the slave laws appear in three different legal collections — Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy — and they differ.

Exodus: release after six years.
Leviticus: release in the Jubilee year and reframes the slave as “your brother.”

“For they are My servants, whom I freed from the land of Egypt.” (Leviticus 25:42)

Deuteronomy: release with economic support.

“Do not let them go empty-handed… furnish them from your flock and threshing floor.” (Deut. 15:13–14)

Dr. Zev Farber argues these differences reflect multiple authors and development across time.
Prof. Aaron Koller sees complementary crystallizations of a shared legal tradition constructed from differing conditions.
And Prof. James Diamond writes that biblical law actually “begins the process toward abolition.”

The trajectory is clear.

Not only are we as a society dependent on each other, but our texts and traditions also interact and evolve.
What begins as regulation becomes restriction.
Restriction becomes reframing.
Reframing becomes moral transformation.

This is not a static code. It is a moral and societal evolution.

The Ancient World Was Not Binary

Robert McC. Adams warns against projecting modern human-rights categories backward. In the ancient Near East, slavery was not a clean binary between free and enslaved. It was a “graded series of impairments” in a stratified economy.

Joshua Berman describes the cycle: a small landowner falls into debt, borrows at high interest, loses land, sells family members, and eventually sells himself.

The Torah does not deny this economic reality.

It intervenes in it.

It caps duration.
It mandates release.
It requires material support.
It prohibits ruthless rule.

And the rabbis push further still.

The Talmud declares:

“Anyone who acquires a Hebrew slave is considered as if he has acquired a master for himself.” (Kiddushin 20a)

You cannot eat better bread.
You cannot drink better wine.
You cannot sleep on softer bedding.

Maimonides radicalizes it:

Even where harsh labor is legally permitted,

“The attribute of piety… is to be merciful… not to make his slaves carry a heavy yoke.”
(Mishneh Torah, Slaves 9:8)

The moral arc bends.

Codependence, Not Autonomy

Here is the deeper irony.

The opposite of slavery in the Torah is not independence.

It is covenantal dependence.

You are no longer Pharaoh’s slave.
But you are not your own sovereign either.

You belong to a community governed by just law.

You belong to a covenantal community.

Leibowitz feared religious nationalism masquerading as redemption.
Frankl warned that liberty without responsibility is hollow.
The Torah insists that freedom requires responsibility.

Mishpatim does not open with abolition because abolition alone does not create justice.

It opens with discipline.
It opens with structure.
It opens with law.

It opens with the architecture of emancipation.

From Freedom Back to Slavery?

The Torah begins its civil code with slavery laws not because it endorses oppression — but because it understands something we often forget:

Freedom is fragile.

Without law, it becomes domination.
Without responsibility, it becomes ideology.
Without memory, it becomes messianic fantasy.

The Israelites left Egypt as slaves.
They arrived at Sinai as a people.

And the first lesson they learned was this:

Freedom is not the absence of dependence.

Freedom is learning how to depend — justly.

Then perhaps the Torah understood something that Thoreau only half-lived and that our slogans still refuse to admit: there is no cabin far enough from town, no revolution pure enough, no liberation complete enough to free us from one another. The question is never whether we will serve. It is whom — and under what law. Sinai does not replace Pharaoh with chaos. It replaces him with a societal covenant. It binds former slaves not to a master’s whim, but to a discipline of justice that protects the weak, restrains the strong, and remembers Egypt in every marketplace and household. The Exodus was not the triumph of independence. It was the birth of a revolutionary social movement of enlightened co-dependency.

Sefaria Source Sheet: https://voices.sefaria.org/sheets/707773

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