Introduction: The Torah as a Living Guide for Humanity’s Shared Family

In a world rife with division, conflict, and unresolved pain, the Torah emerges not as a rigid set of rules or harsh decrees, but as a profound, living guidebook addressing the deepest problems of human existence. Parashat Mishpatim (Exodus 21:1–24:18) follows immediately after the dramatic revelation of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai, diving into a detailed array of civil, ethical, and ritual laws—traditionally counted as 53 mitzvot, though some interpretations expand this to include over 100 specific rulings and applications. These laws, often referred to as mishpatim (judgments), aren’t arbitrary; they expand upon the foundational principles of the Ten Commandments, showing how divine ideals translate into everyday justice and harmony.

But what if these laws aren’t just legal codes? What if they stem from the raw, traumatic stories of our biblical ancestors, offering healing for the familial wounds that echo through generations? Drawing from Rabbi David Fohrman’s insightful lectures on Aleph Beta, this blog series explores how the Ten Commandments—and the mishpatim that elaborate them—are deeply rooted in the family drama of Isaac, Rebecca, Jacob, and Esau in Genesis 27. We’ll see the Torah as a blueprint for mending broken relationships, fostering unity in a fractured world.

Biologist DNA Test Proves The Torah

Adding a modern scientific layer, recent genetic research underscores our shared humanity. In his book Traced: Human DNA’s Big Surprise, Dr. Nathaniel Jeanson, a Harvard-trained biologist with Answers in Genesis, uses Y-chromosome DNA analysis to trace global male lineages back to a recent common ancestor—suggesting all men alive today share roots so close that “your father could be my uncle.” This aligns with biblical narratives of common descent from figures like Noah, emphasizing that humanity’s problems—jealousy, deception, favoritism—are family issues at their core. The Torah, then, isn’t exclusive; it’s a universal guide for our interconnected family.

In this first installment (of a planned series covering all Ten Commandments), we’ll focus on the first three, linking them to Genesis 27, Exodus 19–20, and the laws of Mishpatim. As a bonus, we’ll include a small Hebrew lesson to deepen your appreciation of the text.

A Quick Hebrew Lesson: The Power of “Anochi”

Before diving in, let’s wet our lips with a bite-sized Hebrew insight. The first commandment begins with “Anochi Hashem Elokecha”—”I am the LORD your God” (Exodus 20:2). “Anochi” is an unusual first-person pronoun in biblical Hebrew; more common is “ani.” Why “anochi”? Commentators like Rashi note that it’s an emphatic, intimate form that evokes a personal encounter.

It derives from roots suggesting “descent” or “revelation,” implying God is “coming down” to meet us on our level. This isn’t a distant decree but an imperative call to relationship: “Know Me as the One you’ve experienced.” In Genesis 27, similar language appears when Rebecca urges Jacob, “Shema b’koli” (“Hear my voice”)—a maternal command blending authority and intimacy. This wordplay hints at how divine laws echo human family dynamics, urging us to “hear” and respond personally. Fun fact: Practice saying “Anochi” aloud—it’s your gateway to feeling the Torah’s relational pulse!

The First Commandment: “I Am the LORD Your God” – Redeeming Identity and Deception

The first of the Ten Commandments isn’t a “command” in the typical sense but a declarative introduction: “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage” (Exodus 20:2). Rabbi Fohrman highlights how this echoes the vulnerability in Genesis 27, where Jacob deceives his blind father Isaac by claiming, “Anochi Esav b’chorecha” (“I am Esau your firstborn”)—a false identity to steal the blessing (Genesis 27:19). In that moment, Jacob invokes God falsely, saying the LORD aided his hunt, tying deception to divine name-dropping.

This family incident is laced with trauma: Rebecca favors Jacob, orchestrating the lie to counter Isaac’s preference for Esau, the “manly” hunter. The result? Isaac trembles in shock (Genesis 27:33), Esau weeps bitterly (27:34), and Jacob flees, fearing murder—fracturing the family for decades. Exodus 19–20 redeems this: At Sinai, God declares His true identity amid thunder and trembling (19:16–18), paralleling Isaac’s quake. But unlike Jacob’s lie, God’s “Anochi” is truthful: “I’m the One you know from experience—the Redeemer from slavery.” It’s personal, in an imperative tone, calling Israel to recognize their liberating Parent.

Practical Healing

How do Mishpatim’s laws connect? They expand this into practical healing. For instance, laws on Hebrew slaves (Exodus 21:2–11) echo the “house of bondage,” mandating freedom after six years—preventing generational entrapment like the Egypt trauma. If a slave chooses to stay out of love (21:5–6), his ear is pierced at the doorpost, symbolizing willing servitude to God and family, not deception. Other mishpatim, such as kidnapping penalties (21:16), address the theft of identities or freedoms, mirroring Jacob’s “theft” of Esau’s birthright.

In Rabbi Fohrman’s view, this commandment counters the zero-sum favoritism in Genesis: God’s choice of Israel isn’t to exclude others (as Isaac’s blessing seemed to pit brothers against each other), but to bless all nations (echoing Abraham’s universal promise in Genesis 12). Mishpatim’s stranger laws—”Do not oppress a stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger” (23:9)—heal exclusion, reminding us of our shared DNA family tree. Thus, the Torah guides us through modern problems like identity crises and refugee mistreatment by grounding justice in empathy rooted in our “family history.”

The Second Commandment: No Other Gods or Idols – Overcoming Sensory Deception and Favoritism

The second commandment expands: “You shall have no other gods before Me. You shall not make for yourself a graven image… You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the LORD your God am a jealous God…” (Exodus 20:3–5). This prohibits idolatry, but Rabbi Fohrman ties it to Genesis 27’s sensory tricks: Isaac relies on touch (feeling hairy arms), smell (Esau’s clothes), and taste (venison), missing Jacob’s true voice. Idolatry, then, is false perception—worshiping tangible “parts” (like fertility gods) over the intangible whole of God.

Family trauma here: Isaac’s blindness symbolizes bias; he favors Esau’s physical prowess, idolizing “strength” over Jacob’s spiritual voice. This leads to deception and pain—Esau’s cry (27:34) mirrors the shofar at Sinai (19:16), a vulnerable sound calling for authentic recognition. God’s cloud at Sinai (19:9) obscures sight, forcing hearing—redeeming the story by prioritizing voice over senses.

Idolatrous Society

Mishpatim elaborates: Laws against sorcery (22:17) and bestiality (22:18) combat idol-like distortions of reality. Property damages (22:4–5) and honest safekeeping (22:6–8) prevent “stealing” through deception, echoing Jacob’s ruse. Broader mishpatim on justice (23:1–8)—no false reports, no bribes—ensure courts aren’t “idols” of corruption. These heal favoritism: The widows and orphans laws (22:21–23) mandate care for the vulnerable, countering parental bias that emotionally orphaned Esau.

In our DNA-linked world, this addresses global issues like idolizing power (e.g., nationalism) over unity. Jeanson’s research shows diverse lineages from common roots, urging us to reject “othering” as idolatry. The Torah guides by teaching wholeness: Love God fully to love His creations equally.

The Third Commandment: Do Not Take God’s Name in Vain – Truth in Invocation and Oaths

“You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain, for the LORD will not hold him guiltless who takes His name in vain” (Exodus 20:7). This warns against false oaths or empty invocations. In Genesis 27, Jacob swears falsely: “Because the LORD your God granted me success” (27:20), using God’s name to bolster his lie. This escalates the trauma—deception now profanes the sacred, deepening the rift.

At Sinai, God’s name is proclaimed truthfully amid awe (20:1), in contrast to Jacob’s misuse. Rabbi Fohrman notes God’s “jealousy” here echoes Esau’s hatred, but channels it toward generational healing: Visiting iniquity to the third/fourth generation, yet showing mercy to thousands (20:5–6).

False Witnesses Today

Mishpatim applies: Laws on false witnesses (23:1–2) and oaths in disputes (22:9–10) prevent the vain use of names in court. Cursing authorities (22:27) extends this—don’t invoke God lightly against leaders or parents (linking to honoring parents later). These address family lies: Just as Jacob’s oath fractured trust, mishpatim’s restitution laws (22:3) demand repayment, fostering accountability.

For today’s problems—like fake news or broken vows—the Torah offers repair: Truth heals trauma, as our shared ancestry demands honest dialogue. In Jeanson’s framework, vain claims divide our family; truth unites.

Conclusion: Mishpatim as a Bridge from Trauma to Unity

Through the first three commandments, we see Mishpatim not as harsh rules but as extensions of healing Genesis 27’s traumas: Deception yields to true identity, sensory bias to holistic worship, vain oaths to sacred truth. Exodus 19–20 redeems the story—trembling mountain, parental voice, chosen yet universal mission. All 123-ish laws in Mishpatim (counting sub-rulings) connect back, guiding interpersonal justice from familial roots.

As DNA reveals our common father, the Torah speaks to all: A living guide transforming the world’s pains into peace. Stay tuned for Part 2 on commandments four through six.

Hazan Gavriel ben David