Paradoxes of Power and Powerlessness (Ki Tetze)

This Parashah is full of paradoxes. It condones practices unthinkable in modern societies: sexual exploitation of slaves, the death penalty for adultery, stoning the wayward child… These are terrible abuses of power and terrible punishments.

And yet, the Torah sets limits to greed, cruelty, and abuse. The sexually abused slave must be either married or freed. The hanged criminal must be buried before nightfall. The mother bird must not be killed with her chicks.

Another paradoxical feature relates to class. The Torah laws are addressed to the male members of the land- and slave owning class. The commands in 24:14-18: “You shall not abuse a needy and destitute labourer. … You shall not subvert the rights of the stranger or the fatherless; you shall not take a widow's garment in pawn. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt...” is addressed to an audience of men of means.

And yet, these men of means are reminded at every turn that they are parvenus, upstarts: that their ancestors were slaves, and foreigners to boot. These men of means are not aristocrats. There can be no pride in ancient lineage, not claim to possession of the land “from time immemorial”. As Eric Hobsbawm reminds us in The Invention of Tradition, claims “from time immemorial” are not to be taken literally but rather express a balance of forces. The fact that the Torah undercuts any such claims by reminding its readers about the newness of Jewish ownership of land and slaves is therefore significant. It makes any absolute power claim impossible and is a constant invitation to extend democratic principles.

This Shabbat is one of the seven Shabbats of Consolation that lead from the 9^th of Av to Rosh haShanah. On each of them, a Haftarah from Isaiah’s Song of Consolation is read, consoling Israel for its loss of Jerusalem (at the hand of the Assyrians) and foretelling future days of glory. These prophetic portions are unconnected with the Torah portion of the week; rather, they follow an internal dynamic leading from the low of Av to the high of Tishri.

Yet the poetic tone of these prophecies makes it possible to seek out connections. Near the beginning of the Haftarah, Isaiah announces a reversal of fortunes: “For the children of the wife forlorn (or desolate) / Shall outnumber those of the married wife.” The downtrodden will “possess the nations”. The Haftarah paints a picture of great historical optimism and dynamism. But in this very dynamism, there is a hidden warning: There is no security in status and possession. Just as the Jewish people could hope to rise from abjection to power, so it also must not rest in power, for power leads to the very abuses against which the Torah rails. Even in today’s Israel, where the gap between the haves and the have-nots is widening, and where foreign labourers are sometimes exploited, this is a warning to be heeded. And we diaspora Jews can contribute by staying far from smugness.