We call Shavuos zman matan Toraseinu.  Rav Eisemann pointed out that nowhere else is the Torah called Toraseinu.  We have Toras hanazir, Toras hayoledes, each meaning the laws pertinent to that specific group.  So, too, Toraseinu, means the Torah that applies to us as Hashem’s chosen people.

The well-known Mechilta describes how Hashem went to each nation, asking each if they would accept the Torah.  The nation asked what is contained in it, and Hashem replied ‘do not murder’, ‘do not commit adultery’,  etc, depending on the characteristics of the particular nation.  The nation then refused, saying that murder, etc, is the characteristic of the nation and they could not accept the Torah.  What is puzzling about this is that the seven mitzvos of B’nei Noach (seven Noahide laws) include murder, adultery, theft, so these nations were already subject to these laws.  What could they now not accept about the law as given in the 10 commandments?  I heard on a tape from Rabbi Michel Twerski that the seven mitzvos of B’nei Noach dealt with the act itself, while the listing in the 10 commandments include thoughts and actions leading up to the sin, not just the actual sin.

Nowhere in the 10 commandments is this additional ‘depth’ of the mitzvah more apparent than in the 10^th commandment, Lo sachmod, do not covet, also worded as Lo sisaveh in the repetition of the 10 commandments in sefer Devarim.  Chemda, as defined by Rav Hirsch, is longing which leads to action.  For example, Bnei Yisrael are assured that no one will steal their property while they go up to the Bais Hamikdash for the shalosh regalim, using the verb chemda.  Tisaveh comes from the same root as ta’avah (lust, desire), and Hirsch interprets this as an inner longing, not necessarily leading to action.  In Sefer Devarim, lo sisaveh is used as the verb for all categories of coveting except for coveting a friend’s wife, because coveting itself is considered equivalent to action, for its disruption of happily married life. 

So we are forbidden the inner desire of what belongs to another (lo sisaveh), even if it does not lead to action.  But how can one legislate against a desire?  Perhaps the most famous comment of Ibn Ezra on the Torah is the parable he uses to explain this.  A peasant will not lust after a princess;  he knows that she is not in his ‘sphere of influence’, that there is no possibility of him having her, so he does not desire her because it is impossible.  We should look at what another has in the same way; it is his, given to him by Hashem to fulfill his particular task in the world, and is off limits to anyone else.  Lo sachmod, then, is the realization of others’ uniqueness in the eyes of Hashem, and our unique role as well.  This is the underpinning of a holy nation and a mamleches kohanim.

Ibn Ezra and Hirsch point out the interesting structure of the commandments on each tablet.  Ibn Ezra defines the categories of thought, speech, and action.  In the first five commandments, thought comes first (I am Hashem…, and having no other gods), then speech (taking Hashem’s name in vain), and then action (keeping Shabbos, honoring parents).  In contrast, in the last five commandments, the pattern is reversed.  First there is action (do not kill, commit adultery, kidnap), then speech (do not bear false witness), and finally thought (do not covet).  One way of understanding this is that mitzvos between man and Hashem must have an underpinning of a strong belief in Hashem that should come first.  However, even if one cannot yet master not being covetous of others, one must act properly toward others and that will lead to a heightened awareness and mastery of lo sachmod.  Rav Eisemann stresses that the reverse pattern of the second five commandments has the effect of setting lo sachmod as the last commandment, thus raising it to the level of the first commandment.  The first and last commandment specify how a person in a holy nation should think;  the other commandments specify the ramifications of the beliefs. 

The Ramban states that someone who does not covet will never damage another.  But how can this be?  A person can dent another’s car, etc, without intending to do so.  To the Ramban, lo sachmod indicates raising the importance of someone else’s property to the level of importance and care given to one’s own property.  This will make a person more careful and less likely to do damage.  Using the Ramban, Rav Eisemann provides a fascinating explanation for the verses following the 10 commandments in Sefer Shemos.  On the surface, the laws regarding not using metal tools to make the mizbeach, and not having steps to go up to the mizbeach, do not seem connected to the Commandments  in a straightforward way.  And all the laws in Mishpatim would seem to fit better in Parashas Ki Saitzai, for example.  The rest of sefer Shemos besides Mishpatim is a narrative, rather than a listing of laws, so what are the laws of Mishpatim doing here?  But, in fact, the laws of Mishpatim are necessary here and in the right place.  If we look at the verses after the dibros, first they refer to Bnei Yisrael having seen Hashem at Har Sinai, analogous to the first dibra.  Then, they are told not to make false gods, analogous to the second dibra and also to one of the three cardinal sins, for which a person should kill himself rather than violate.  Following this the Torah speaks of not using metal on the mizbeach because of metal’s association with a sword used to kill another, the second of the cardinal sins (and the 6^th dibra).  Then, we are told that a ramp rather than steps should be used to go up to the mizbeach, because ‘lo sigaleh ervascha’, your nakedness should not be revealed, an allusion to gilui arayos, immoral sexual acts, the third cardinal sin (and the 7^th dibra).  This is followed immediately by the laws of mishpatim, regulating action between individuals.  Mishpatim is a commentary on, or a broader description of, the 10^th commandment.  If we do not know the laws of property and damages, we will not know what is ours and what we are not to covet because it is not ours.  In addition, the Ramban says that if we can internalize lo sachmod, it will be easier to pay damages to another if we have caused the damage.  The recognition of the other as a unique individual, with belongings specific to him and to the role Hashem has set for him in this world, will lead to our greater care for the property of others and to a willingness to compensate the other for anything we have damaged.

Rav Eisemann concludes his book with a discussion of the first law discussed in Parshas Mishpatim.   This is the law of eved Ivri.  A Jew who steals and cannot repay what he stole can be sold by bais din (the court), or sell himself, as a servant to another Jew.  Why is this the first law discussed?  An eved Ivri is a rare occurrence, and only applies in the Land of Israel which B’nei Yisrael have not yet entered.  But this fits well if we consider the details of the laws of eved Ivri and how they relate to the concept of Mamleches kohanim and goi kadosh. When someone buys an eved Ivri, the behavior required by the buyer makes it as though the buyer has bought a master for himself.  He is obligated to treat the eved Ivri as well as he does himself.  If there is only one bed, the eved gets it.  He gets the same food as his master.  His wife and children must be supported by his master.  While he must serve his master by performing many duties, he is not given things to do which might seem demeaning.  For example, he cannot carry his master’s bath towel and clothes to the bath house.  There is thus exquisite sensitivity to the eved Ivri as being a valuable human being; a period of time of being treated in this way will probably do much to rehabilitate him.  But there is one aspect that seems to go against all this.  The master can make the eved Ivri sleep with a non-Jewish maidservant and have children with her, who then become the master’s property.  How does this go along with treating him with such kavod by day?  The eved Ivri has thrown away his membership in the mamleches kohanim v’goi kadosh by stealing from another.  He still retains his worth as a human being, and is honored as such, but he no longer has the privilege of behaving as a full member of Hashem’s nation.  He can then raise himself back to this position over the period of servitude, until he is released at the shmittah year. 

Thus, once the ‘constitution’ defining B’nei Yisrael’s relationship to Hashem is set forth, there  are conditions that must be met to remain in this elite society, and the Torah provides us with the means for achieving this.