The Most Misunderstood Line in the Torah | Parshas Mishpatim
An eye for an eye? Not even close!
There’s a certain kind of question that motivates me. It’s when you come across a phrase in the Torah — a law or idea — that seems cruel. Primitive. Obviously so. G-d’s command to totally wipe out Amalek — men, women, and children — obviously comes to mind, but as we shall soon see, there are other examples also.
For many people, the reaction and analysis stop there. They simply take the surface impression and walk away.
I can’t do that.
This is the same Torah that tells us that man is created in the image of G-d. The same Torah that says: do not murder, do not steal, do not lie in court. The Torah that commands us to love our neighbors as ourselves. To care for the stranger — because we know what it’s like to be a stranger, because we were strangers in Mitzrayim. To do what is good and what is straight in the eyes of Hashem. To have honest weights and measures. To take care of the poor. To be holy. And more (much more).
Time and again, the Torah is filled with moral depth and sophistication — and not merely filled with it, but revolutionarily so. It is unmatched in history. Thousands of years later, the moral clarity of the Torah rings out as brilliantly and as brightly as it always has — this is true on the level of peshat, and even more so when one takes the time to study the Torah in-depth.
As such, if we come upon what looks like an exception to that rule — something that seems immoral, uncaring, primitive, cruel — and we simply stop there, then the problem is not what’s written in the Torah.
The problem is how we approached the Torah. The problem is that we didn’t take the time to see how this too is moral. This too is just. This too is deep and sophisticated.
If we don’t search, we shouldn’t be surprised if we don’t find.
And there’s another issue.
We can’t simply treat the Torah like any other work — like the work of a great scholar, a great author, a great mind. We are talking about the Author of all authors, the Mind of all minds. The Creator Himself, revealing to us His will and how we are to live our lives.
To dismiss these words as primitive is to claim that the Creator of morality Himself somehow failed to understand basic moral principles.
I tell you all of this because it is the fuel which powers this week’s dvar Torah — and it relates to one of the most famous lines in the Torah:
“An eye for an eye” — עין תחת עין.
Time after time, from person after person and institution after institution, this line is presented as the basis for a cruel, primitive form of justice. We’ll start with Matthew — yes, that Matthew — who understood “an eye for an eye” as a base form of retaliation: doing unto an evildoer the very evil he has done to you.
From there we move on to the early Church Fathers — and those who followed in their wake — who understood this as a law of permitted retaliation: revenge is allowed, but limited to the extent of the damage that the victim suffered. A legalized form of revenge, a moral version of revenge — but revenge nonetheless.
So said the Church Fathers. So says the modern-day Catholic Church.
Tolstoy stated that the law of an eye for an eye was a law of violence. Mahatma Gandhi famously proclaimed that “an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.”
Now, may I pause for a moment to note that for all of its poetic beauty, Gandhi’s line doesn’t make any sense.
Even if we take the verse literally (as he does), his conclusion only follows if we live in a world in which people are continuously blinding one another. But if I do not take out your eye, and you do not take out mine, then neither of us will be blind.
Indeed — are we all dead because we execute murderers?
I certainly hope not; it would greatly reduce my readership ;-)
But I digress.
I will leave with one more quote — this one said all but yesterday by Pope Francis:
“If we live according to the law ‘an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,’ we will never escape the spiral of evil.”
Here this law has been elevated to the status of a worldview and modus operandi, one that condemns us to a never-ending spiral of evil. Sounds like it doesn’t get much worse than that!
Over and over again, this line is taken literally — as prescribed revenge, as an immoral worldview. Over and over again, it is misconstrued and misunderstood.
And when I hear that, I feel like a young David standing before the mighty Goliath, listening as the giant confidently blasphemes the G-d of Israel.
So, like David, I pick up my weapon of choice — the very words of the Torah themselves — and prepare to forge a new path for all those who care about the truth of what this short little phrase actually means.
Where to begin?
Well, if we’re going to make sense of this phrase, we have two main paths to start with:
Path number one: the words themselves. Path number two: the context in which the words appear.
We’re going to take both paths — but we’ll start with the second one, context.
So where should we start for context?
I suggest that we start with the name of our parsha itself - Parshas Mishpatim. And let’s ask a simple question -- what is a mishpat? We know that there are different types of halachos -- there are chukim (חוקים) and mishpatim (משפטים). There are Torot (תורתות) and Mitzvot (מצוות). One would assume that there is some meaningful distinction between each of these types of halachos.
What are they?
I don’t know. I have ideas, but ideas are not the same thing as knowledge. For now, though, let’s see if we can come up with a working hypothesis. We’ll start by connecting our Parsha to another parsha of almost the same name -- Parshas Shoftim.
Shoftim and mishpatim, two sides of the same linguistic coin, both of which share the same root: shin-peh-tet (ש-פ-ט).
Shoftim are judges.
Is it such a stretch to suggest that mishpatim are the types of laws that judges judge.
What does that mean?
We’ll get there as we go through the context. It will start to naturally appear. For now, though, we can say the following. In our parsha, we expect to encounter a group of laws which share this particular quality of being judgeable (whatever that means). And since an eye for an eye (עין תחת עין) appears in our parsha, we will assume that it too has this quality (again, whatever that means).
With that said, let’s take an intellectual journey through the opening halachos of Parshas Mishpatim. In particular, we’ll start with the laws relating to murder.
From Murder to Money
Take a look at the following laws:
מכה איש ומת מות יומת
ומכה אביו ואמו מות יומת
וגנב איש ומכרו ונמצא בידו מות יומת
ומקלל אביו ואמו מות יומת
Strike a man and he dies — death he shall die.
Strike his father or his mother — death he shall die.
Steal a man and sell him...— death he shall die.
Curse his father or his mother — death shall he die.
Let us make a few observations on both the substance and presentation of these laws.
First, the format. These are short, pithy lines. You do this — this is the consequence. You do this — this is the consequence. All expressed essentially the same way.
Strike a man and he dies... Strike his father or his mother... Steal a man and sell him... Curse his father or his mother...
And what is true about the nature of the crime is doubly true about the consequence — capital punishment.
...death shall he die. ...death shall he die. ...death shall he die. ...death shall he die.
Notice the emphasis on “death”. We usually translate this as “he shall surely die”, but that misses the power of the phrase as it appears in Hebrew.
These are capital cases — and it is linguistically impossible to miss that fact.
Second, the nature of the crime. These all involve one human being committing a crime against another human being — and, in many ways, in their most severe form.
Murder is the most severe form of physical violence.
To kidnap someone and sell them into slavery is the most severe form of theft.
To physically or verbally attack one’s parents (the very people who gave you life and raised you) is the most severe form of ingratitude and disrespect.
Third, the progression. We go from physically striking someone — a violent attack on their body.
To physically taking control of someone — an (often times violent) attack on their freedom.
To verbal assault.
We will see variations of these progressions as we make our way through the parsha.
But there is something else quite significant almost hidden within these short, pithy laws. And that relates to the case of murder. There we find our first nuance — wherein the Torah distinguishes between premeditated and negligent homicide.
This type of distinction is more relevant than we realize right now. As we will soon find out.
A Different Style
We are done with our first set halachos. A new batch is about to begin — and with it, a new literary form.
Gone are the short pithy lines.
Gone is the clear, unambiguous consequence.
A new style is arising, and to appreciate and understand it we first have to note it.
We will start with the first word in every halacha that is about to follow: וכי.
We will translate this as: “when”. When as in: when this happens...
So, for example:
וְכִי־יְרִיבֻן אֲנָשִׁים
וְכִי־יַכֶּה אִישׁ אֶת־עַבְדּוֹ
וְכִי־יִנָּצוּ אֲנָשִׁים
וְכִי־יִגַּח שׁוֹר
וְכִי־יִפְתַּח אִישׁ בּוֹר
וְכִי־יִגֹּף שׁוֹר־אִישׁ אֶת־שׁוֹר רֵעֵהוּ
כִּי יִגְנֹב־אִישׁ שׁוֹר
When men quarrel...
When a man strikes his slave...
When men fight...
When an ox gores...
When a man opens a pit...
When a man’s ox strikes his fellow’s ox...
When a man steals an ox...
This is not a mere linguistic quirk, but rather the foundation of a different set of halachos. One that have one key component -- their variability. The actual halacha is not set within the situation itself. There are factors which will determine how we apply the law.
And that is indicated by the other lingustic element in these halachos, the inclusion (most of the time) of the conditional word “if”. Note that word conditional. It tells us that there are variations.
Sometimes this situation works out this way — if so, this is the law. But other times it works out this way — in that case, this is the law.
Let us see with some concrete examples.
Two men are quarreling (וְכִי־יְרִיבֻן) and then (unexpectedly) one of them strikes ( וְהִכָּה) the other with a deadly weapon (a stone or even his fist).
This sounds familiar. We just had a couple of laws about striking with deadly force. But here there is a twist. The man does not die. Rather, he is bed ridden (read, he may die, he may not).
So let’s say he dies. What then. Well, that was covered above.
But what if he doesn’t die:
אִם־יָקוּם וְהִתְהַלֵּךְ בַּחוּץ עַל־מִשְׁעַנְתּוֹ
If he will get up and walk outside with the help of a walking stick...
So now what.
What is the law? He did not die — but he could have. Well, in terms of capital punishment, he is absolved:
וְנִקָּה הַמַּכֶּה
And the one who struck him will be exempt
Exempt from what? From the punishment mentioned above (capital punishment).
But that’s not the full story.
רַק
But...
You see that word, but. We are not done. Yes, we don’t execute him, but there are still legal consequences.
What are those:
רַק שִׁבְתּוֹ יִתֵּן וְרַפֹּא יְרַפֵּא
But he must give his cessation and heal him.
Now let’s take this step by step.
What do you think it means that he has to heal him? That he has to become a doctor? That he needs to go to medical school for seven years and then treat him?
I’m sure that would make his mother proud, but somehow or other I don’t think his victim is so concerned about his mother’s happiness right now.
No, “healing him”, means paying for his medical costs.
And so it is with “his cessation”. Cessation here comes from the word Shabbas (shevet — שבת).
Shabbas means to cease. To stop. On the seventh day G-d ceased the creative process that He had been involved with for six days.
So too here. Reuven had a job. He was working. Making a living. But Shimon’s fist put a (temporary) halt to that. In general, it’s hard to work when one is recovering from almost being murdered.
And so Shimon owes Reuven money.
How much?
Well, we know the theoretical amount, but not the actual amount.
Did you catch that? Did that line mean anything to you or did you just read it and move on?
Don’t do that. No moving on. Because in that line we can finally complete our working hypothesis of what it means for a law to be a mishpat (משפט).
A mishpat is a law that has to be judged because the principle and situation are not enough to determine the outcome.
What were his medical expenses? How long was he bedridden? How much did he lose in wages?
These are questions that can’t be answered by principle alone, only by circumstance. The principle can tell us that he has to pay, but it can’t tell us how much. That has to be judged (by a shofet — שופט). Ergo mishpatim (משפטים — laws that are judged).
A Different Type of Fight
The previous quarrel was what I would like to call a transition case.
It was the case of one man attacking another.
מַכֵּה אִישׁ וָמֵת
וְכִי־יְרִיבֻן אֲנָשִׁים וְהִכָּה־אִישׁ אֶת־רֵעֵהוּ בְּאֶבֶן אוֹ בְאֶגְרֹף וְלֹא יָמוּת
Strike a man and he dies...
When men quarrel and one strikes his fellow with a stone or with his fist and does not die...
Almost the same case, just one slight variation. And that slight variation introduces us to the world of monetary damages.
We now come upon a different type of fight. One where they are fighting each other (וְכִי־יִנָּצוּ) — but not necessarily trying to kill each other. There are no striking blows (וְהִכָּה).
But there is pushing and shoving (וְנָגַף). And it is here that our first question arises. Who gets pushed?
It turns out that Reuven does not push Shimon. And Shimon does not push Reuven. Rather, one (or both) of them push Sarah.
Sarah? Who is Sarah?
Is Sarah involved in the fight?
No — and that’s the point. No one was trying to push Sarah. Not Reuven. Not Shimon.
But, it happens.
One (or both) of them pushes Sarah.
They were trying (or succeeding) at pushing each other. But one time they miss (each other) and don’t miss Sarah.
Now, here is the (legal) issue.
Sarah is pregnant.
Which is (legally) interesting — because it allows us to consider two different (legal) scenarios.
Scenario number one: Sarah lives, but she loses her child.
Scenario number two: Sarah dies.
Let’s start with scenario number one.
What is it that we need to (legally) figure out.
Legal question #1: Is Reuven or Shimon (or both of them) criminally liable for the loss of the child?
Legal answer #1: No.
Legal question #2: Are they financially liable for the loss of the child?
Legal answer #2: Yes.
But for our purposes — for the purposes of understanding an eye for an eye — it is scenario number two that we want to take a close look at.
For this is the situation in which Sarah dies.
So, what is the legal question here?
Legal question #1: Is Reuven or Shimon (or both of them) criminally liable for Sarah’s death?
Legal answer #1: Yes.
And no.
Well, honestly, it’s not clear. Indeed, it’s what we call a makhlokes Chazal (an argument of the Rabbis — to put it in the vernacular).
To live and understand the confusion, let’s take a look at the verse. We are told that if Sarah dies, then:
וְנָתַתָּה נֶפֶשׁ תַּחַת נָפֶשׁ
I would love to translate this verse. Every single word cries out for an explanation. And we will attempt to explain every single word.
But first, let’s just go with a “standard” translation:
And you will give a life for a life.
And let’s assume that what is meant here is that you execute Reuven or Shimon (or both of them) because we hold them criminally liable for the death of Sarah.
If that is what this phrase means, then why the linguistic change. We have just seen a number of references to the death penalty.
We started with a whole list of capital offenses. And each and every time, the Torah had a clear phrase to indicate that the punishment was execution: מוֹת יוּמָת.
There is, though, another phrase — one mentioned in a case that we skipped over. That where a man strikes (וְכִי־יַכֶּה) his slave or maidservant with a rod and they die.
In that case, we are told that נקם ינקם — he (the slave) shall be avenged. Meaning, even though they are a slave (male or female, makes no difference), it is still a capital offense to murder them.
For our purposes, though, we note the linguistic similarity. In both cases — מוֹת יוּמָת and נָקֹם יִנָּקֵם — the Torah uses the same grammatical construction: an infinitive absolute followed by a conjugated verb of the same root.
An infinitive absolute is the raw, unconjugated form of a verb — the action itself, with no subject, no tense, no specification. Think walking, talking, hitting, striking, etc.
It is the verb in its purest form — focusing solely on the action itself with no indication of who is doing the action or when.
A conjugated verb is the opposite — it tells you who, when, and in what form the action takes place.
I walked to school.
You will talk with father when he gets home.
He hit the ball. Lightning struck twice.
When the Torah places the infinitive absolute directly before the conjugated verb of the same root, the two work together. The infinitive sets up the action; the conjugated verb delivers it.
In our case, the action is the punishment. It is execution, death.
No ambiguity.
And it is the person who committed the crime who will be executed.
No ambiguity.
Thus:
מוֹת יוּמָת: dying (infinitive) — he shall be put to death (conjugated)
נָקֹם יִנָּקֵם: avenging (infinitive) — he shall be avenged (conjugated)
This is biblical Hebrew’s way of expressing a definitive punishment. This is how we are going to punish you as a consequence of what you did.
What is particularly noteworthy right now is that this very same grammatical form was just used one line earlier in this very same case.
In scenario number one, where Sarah survives but loses her child, the Torah says:
עָנוֹשׁ יֵעָנֵשׁ: punishing (infinitive) — he shall be punished (conjugated)
Onosh (ענש) is used to indicate financial fines (aka, punishments) — wherein the amount “owed” is not related to any damages done or money owed.
Same grammar. Same construction. Same point.
He — or they — are being financially punished for causing Sarah to lose her baby.
And so, I wonder, if נֶפֶשׁ תַּחַת נָפֶשׁ means execution — if we are being told that Reuven or Shimon, or both of them, must be executed for Sarah’s death — then why doesn’t the Torah just say מוֹת יוּמָת, or one of its variations?
That is clearly the grammatical form and phrase used in our parsha to indicate capital punishment.
So why the change?
It seems that something else is going on here. And indeed the words themselves indicate that something else is indeed going on (as we shall see when we more carefully translate them).
Perhaps at the end of the day, it will be the same old capital punishment. But even if that is the case, there is still something else going on.
But first, we need to finally get to the line that we have all been waiting for.
Not Moving On
Theoretically speaking, we should be done with this case. We have said all that needs to be said and related to all that needs to be related to.
There was a fight.
Sarah inadvertently got pushed. She lives, the baby dies — he pays. She dies — there is a consequence.
All angles have been covered.
Time to move on to the next case.
And yet, the Torah does not move on. Rather, it has a bit more to say. Actually, more than just a bit. It has a whole list of statements in almost the exact same form as וְנָתַתָּה נֶפֶשׁ תַּחַת נָפֶש (which is the phrase that we have not yet translated):
עַיִן תַּחַת עַיִן
שֵׁן תַּחַת שֵׁן
יָד תַּחַת יָד
רֶגֶל תַּחַת רָגֶל
כְּוִיָּה תַּחַת כְּוִיָּה
פֶּצַע תַּחַת פָּצַע
חַבּוּרָה תַּחַת חַבּוּרָה
Once again, we have to hold off on a “real” translation. But we’ll use a “standard” one for now — just so we have something to talk about:
An eye for an eye A tooth for a tooth A hand for a hand A foot for a foot A burn for a burn A gash for a gash A bruise for a bruise
Were we talking about eyes or teeth or hands or feet (let alone burns and gashes and bruises)? Were Shimon’s hands burning hot and burned Sarah when he (accidentally) pushed her.
I don’t think so.
No, that’s not what is going on here. Rather, the Torah is broadening the principle just laid out to numerous other similar (but still different) cases.
Don’t think that it’s only when Sarah dies that we have a life for a life (again, this is a placeholder translation). Not at all.
If Sarah loses her eye — then it’s an eye for an eye. If she loses her tooth — then it’s a tooth for a tooth.
And as it is for her eyes and teeth, so it is for her hands and feet or any other type of physical damage she may suffer.
This is an interesting legal move for the Torah to make — and we still do not know why it is making it. But that is what is happening.
And it will make much more sense once we get that better translation under our belt. And the beginnings of a better translation are waiting for us in the very next verse.
The Eyes (and Teeth) of Slaves
We are back to striking blows:
וְכִי־יַכֶּה אִישׁ אֶת־עֵין עַבְדּוֹ אוֹ־אֶת־עֵין אֲמָתוֹ וְשִׁחֲתָהּ לַחׇפְשִׁי יְשַׁלְּחֶנּוּ תַּחַת עֵינוֹ
But this time there is no death — or even threat of death. But there is blindness. A man has struck his slave or maid-servant and, in so doing, has blinded him or her.
Alternatively, it is not his eye that he has struck, but his tooth — which he has knocked out:
וְאִם־שֵׁן עַבְדּוֹ אוֹ־שֵׁן אֲמָתוֹ יַפִּיל לַחׇפְשִׁי יְשַׁלְּחֶנּוּ תַּחַת שִׁנּוֹ
So, we know the drill. Here is a case. What, then, is the law?
Simple (and quite telling). The slave or maid-servant will go free תחת their eye or tooth.
Did you catch that?
Did you see what just linguistically happened here.
We have an eye. We have a tooth. And we have an ever so important word — תחת.
Let us start on a better translation.
Instead of translating it as an eye for an eye, let’s try this:
an eye תחת an eye. a tooth תחת a tooth.
I know what you are thinking. That doesn’t seem like much of an improvement.
But notice that word. תחת.
It is the same exact word that we find in עין תחת עין and שן תחת שן.
And what does it mean here? It doesn’t say you take out the owner’s eye. It says you set the slave free — תחת עינו. In other words, in compensation for his eye.
The same with the tooth: ואם שן עבדו או שן אמתו יפיל לחפשי ישלחנו תחת שנו — if he knocks out his slave’s tooth, he shall send him free — תחת שנו — in compensation for his tooth.
Nothing is done to the owner’s body. No eye is taken. No tooth is knocked out. Rather, something is given to the slave — his freedom — in compensation for what was taken from him.
And why freedom rather than money? Because the slave has no financial independence. Any money you give a slave goes right back to the owner. Why is that the case — that’s another dvar Torah for another time.
The point is that the owner has to compensate his slave for the loss of his eye. He can’t do so with money. But he can do so with freedom. And so that is what he gives him.
Either way, linguistically it is clear that at least in this verse, the word תחת means “in compensation for”.
But is it only in this verse?
Let’s see.
We will fast forward a few cases — and leave the world of man against man. Now it is ox against ox.
In particular, Reuven has an Ox. And Reuven’s ox shoves (וְכִי־יִגֹּף) Shimon’s ox. And, alas, Shimon’s ox dies.
We know the drill, what is the law?
It depends (of course it depends, these are mishpatim). Was this a known, violent ox or not? Was Reuven officially warned in court that his ox was dangerous and nonetheless did not properly guard it?
No. Then Reuven pays half. Yes. Then Reuven pays the full amount.
But note how the Torah phrases it.
בְּעָלָיו שַׁלֵּם יְשַׁלֵּם שׁוֹר תַּחַת הַשּׁוֹר
His owner paying, he will pay — an ox in compensation for the ox.
Did you see that? An ox תחת an ox. The same word, the same construction. And it is once again about making financial restitution for the damage done.
Reuven’s ox killed Shimon’s ox.
Reuven must pay him the financial value of the ox that was killed.
That is what the phrase שַׁלֵּם יְשַׁלֵּם. Indeed, there is an earlier case, just a few lines back, where Reuven digs a pit in the public square and an ox or a donkey falls in. And the Torah clearly states:
בַּעַל הַבּוֹר יְשַׁלֵּם כֶּסֶף יָשִׁיב לִבְעָלָיו
The owner of the pit shall pay; he shall return silver to the owner of the animal...
Silver!
You know, money.
Cash. Not an ox (or, not necessarily an ox).
And so it is here with our case. You have a dangerous ox that you didn’t guard and it killed someone else’s ox:
שַׁלֵּם יְשַׁלֵּם
Paying, he shall pay.
Remember our grammatical rule. The infinitive absolute (שַׁלֵּם) sets up the action — the payment. The conjugated verb (יִשַׁלֵּם) delivers it — he shall pay.
He will definitely pay.
There is no question about that.
No question that he will pay. But there is a question as to how much.
And that is what the next phrase tells us. An ox תחת an ox. He will pay the financial value of the ox that was killed.
Read otherwise, (the financial value) of an ox in compensation for (the financial value) of the ox (that was killed).
Of course, no one is stopping you from giving an actual ox, but that is not what the line is saying. It is rather delineating the principle of reciprocity in cases of financial compensation.
We are talking here about a case where you owe them this money. This is not a fine. Not a punishment. This is paying that which you owe.
And the Torah is laying down as clear as can be that the amount that you pay is directly proportional to the damage that you caused.
You killed an ox, you pay the value of an ox.
And with that said, let us return to the case of Sarah and scenario number two. And let us remember that in scenario number one we already see the concept of a financial fine.
Why a fine?
Because, says the Ramban, no one really knows the financial worth of the baby lost.
But what about scenario number two where Sarah dies? There we can estimate her financial worth. Of course, that requires going to court — after all, these are mishpatim (laws which are judged).
In that case, how much do you pay?
Simple, you give the financial value of her life in compensation for her life.
Indeed, take a closer look at that phrase:
וְנָתַתָּה נֶפֶשׁ תַּחַת נָפֶשׁ
And you will give a life in compensation for a life.
Notice the word “give”. You are giving something. You are not taking something. And if we look closer, we see giving in the sense of financial payment throughout this parsha.
Remember when Reuven almost killed Shimon and he had to pay for his medical expenses and lost wages? Look at the phrase for paying his lost wages:
שִׁבְתּוֹ יִתֵּן
He must give his cessation.
Notice that word give: יִתֵּן.
Or how about a case that we didn’t look at — where one Reuven did not guard his ox and his ox went and killed Shimon. In that case, there is the concept of “redemption” money — wherein Reuven can help redeem his soul from heavenly punishment by giving money to the family of his victim.
Note how that is phrased: וְנָתַן פִּדְיֹן נַפְשׁוֹ
Once again, we have the word give: וְנָתַן. But guess what else is hidden in that line. We have the word soul (נפש). And we have the word give (נתן). And we have the concept of giving money in compensation for a life (נפש).
In short, in our parsha the word give (נתן) is used to indicate financial payment. Combined we have the concept of giving a life in compensation for a life.
And that word give (וְנָתַן) doesn’t end with a life in compensation for a life. Rather it carries on for all the other phrases also. It is as if it said that:
you will give a life in compensation for a life and
you will give an eye in compensation for an eye, and
you will give a tooth in compensation for a tooth, and so on.
This, indeed, is common throughout the Torah (but again, that’s another Dvar Torah for another time).
Hammering the Point Home
I honestly do not want to leave any doubt in your mind that the word תחת can and does mean “in compensation for”. As such, here are a few more examples just for your edification.
Our chapter concludes with the case of a man who steals an ox or a sheep then either slaughters it or sells it. That is the case.
What is the law in such a case. The Torah tells us:
חמישה בקר ישלם תחת השור
Five cattle he will pay in compensation for the ox
וארבע צאן תחת השה
And four animals from the flock in compensation for the sheep.
There it is again. תחת השור. תחת השה.
In compensation for the ox. In compensation for the sheep.
The word תחת — in every single one of these cases — means the person who did wrong gives something of value to the person he wronged.
Kayin & Hevel, Chava & Shet
And it’s not just in halacha.
Remember Chava — yes that Chava. And do you remember Kayin and Hevel?
Do you remember that Kayin killed Hevel? Do you remember that Hevel was Chava’s son?
Which means that Kayin killed Chava’s son.
So far, so good.
Well, a number of years later, Chava has another son — Shet.
Why did she call him Shet?
She tells us.
כִּ֣י שָֽׁת־לִ֤י אֱלֹהִים֙ זֶ֣רַע אַחֵ֔ר תַּ֣חַת הֶ֔בֶל כִּ֥י הֲרָג֖וֹ קָֽיִן
Because G-d has given me another offspring in compensation (תחת) for Hevel, because Kayin killed him.
Let us put this all together. Chava originally had two sons and then lost one. And now, G-d is giving her another son in compensation for the one she lost.
Chava is receiving something to make up for her loss.
The Ayil at the Akeidah
Now let’s go to the Akeidah — the binding of Yitzchak.
HaKadosh Baruch Hu tells Avraham to take Yitzchak and offer him up as a korban, as an olah. Avraham goes through with it — he builds the altar, binds Yitzchak, takes the knife in his hand, stretches out his arm to actually perform the sacrifice.
And G-d sends His angel, who tells Avraham: stop. Don’t do it. Don’t sacrifice your son.
So Avraham stops.
And when he does he sees a ram caught in the thicket by its horns. And Avraham understands: HaKadosh Baruch Hu has prepared this ram for me to offer in place of my son.
So Avraham takes the ram and offers it up as an olah — תחת בנו — in place of his son.
Why in place? Because G-d is still “owed” his sacrifice. Avraham needs to give G-d something in compensation for the sacrifice that he just took away from G-d.
What is that something? Vicariously offering Yitzchak via the ram. See Rashi on that verse — and see our dvar Torah on that parsha for a deeper understanding.
Wrapping Up (for now)
Let us go back to where we started.
Matthew — yes, that Matthew — claimed that עין תחת עין is a base form of retaliation: doing unto an evildoer the very evil he has done to you.
Where in the world does he get that? Certainly not from our parsha.
Our parsha is not talking about taking away anyone’s eye. That doesn’t make any grammatical sense. It doesn’t make any contextual sense.
Look at the context — the full context.
This is a parsha about monetary cases.
You have to pay if your ox kills someone else’s ox. You have to pay if you dig a pit and someone else’s animal falls in. You have to pay if you are negligent and someone dies because of your animal. You have to pay — פדיון נפשו — for your own soul, so to speak. You have to pay if you steal someone’s ox and slaughter it or sell it.
The entire subject matter — from beginning to end — relates to one of two things: either I have acted criminally against someone else’s body, or I have acted negligently against their body or their property. And in either case, the question is the same: how do we deal with this in a court of law?
No one is taking the law into their own hands. There is no vigilante justice here. There is no taking of anyone’s eyes. There is no idea of revenge here. There is the principle of reciprocity.
Financial reciprocity.
When you cause someone a loss, you compensate them proportionally to the loss you caused. That’s the principle.
And Pope Francis. Such slander of G-d’s beautiful words.
This is not a spiral of evil. This is civil law. This is the Torah telling us: when you wrong someone, you go to court, and you pay them what you owe. The amount you pay is proportional to the damage you did. If there is a “worldview of עין תחת עין”, it is the worldview that financial restitution for the damage you cause is no more and no less than the damage you caused.
I should note that there is much more to say.
Not the least of which is the machlokes within Chazal themselves — for there are those among the Sages who hold that נפש תחת נפש is to be taken literally.
That position deserves serious engagement. And I hope to merit someday to give it the seriousness that it is due. For now, though, I am out of time.
In the meantime, though, if you want to further delve into this question, I remember the commentary of Rav Hirsch being particularly helpful. What’s more, when I did read him, I noted that I am in essence parroting much of what he has to say. Although he says much more, and I myself hope to one day go back over his words much more thoroughly.
In the meantime, I will leave you with this.
If you want to understand what the Torah has to say, there is only one way to do it: to study it deeply — with all your heart and with all your soul.
If we do that, then no amount of lies and no amount of slander can touch us.
The lies may carry far and wide and it may be that most people are not willing to hear what we have to say (yet).
But we’ll hear. We’ll know it. And we’ll live it.
And G-d will see that.
And no amount of lies and slander can touch that.