We begin Parshas Mishpatim—this week’s portion of “Mishpatim,” the ordinances.
The first verse reads: “And these are the ordinances that you shall set before them.”
This section follows directly after last week’s portion, where we read about the Aseres HaDibros—the Ten Sayings—when Hashem revealed Himself at Har Sinai with a powerful revelation of thunder, lightning, and awe. Chazal explain that the intensity was too overwhelming for the people, and they asked that Moshe Rabbeinu hear the rest and convey it to them.
Rashi points out something significant: the verse begins “V’eileh”—“And these.” That connecting vav (“and”) tells us that these laws, too, were given at Sinai, continuing what came before.
But the point I want to focus on is the word “Mishpatim.” It’s often translated as “ordinances,” but in Torah terminology it has a precise meaning.
The Three Categories of Mitzvos
Our tradition describes three categories of Torah laws:
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Mishpatim – rational, logical laws
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Edot – “testimonials,” laws that testify to an event or truth
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Chukim – statutes, laws beyond human logic
Chukim are mitzvos for which we do not have an apparent rationale. Chazal describe them as “a decree of the King”—and the yetzer hara (and the nations of the world) challenge them: “What’s the sense of this? Why was it prohibited?” Examples include sha’atnez (wool and linen), pork, and parah adumah (the red heifer).
Mishpatim, on the other hand, are laws that make sense even to basic human reasoning—like not stealing or not murdering. The Gemara even says that had the Torah not been given, human society could have arrived at certain moral norms on its own.
In the middle are Edot—mitzvos that “testify” to something: for example, Pesach, which commemorates Yetzi’as Mitzrayim, or Shabbos, which testifies that Hashem created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. These are not things we would invent on our own, but once the Torah tells us, they are deeply meaningful and understandable.
It’s important to clarify: sometimes a person doesn’t understand a reason simply because they’re not yet capable—like a child or student who obeys a parent or teacher. That does not make it a chok. A chok is different: it’s a mitzvah the Torah gives without presenting a reason, as an expression of accepting Hashem’s authority.
Why “Mishpatim” Comes Right After Sinai
Now we can ask a fascinating question: the Ten Commandments include the loftiest foundations of emunah—“Anochi Hashem Elokecha” and “Lo yihyeh lecha”—the oneness of Hashem and the rejection of any other power.
But then, in the same revelation, we suddenly have very “simple” and logical prohibitions: don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t commit adultery, don’t bear false witness, and so on.
So why did Hashem “make such a storm,” so to speak—Sinai, revelation, awe—to command things that human beings could figure out logically?
The Rebbe explains a central principle:
Even the logical mitzvos must be done not because they make sense, but because Hashem commanded them.
Yes, they make sense. But if a person’s observance is grounded only in personal logic, it becomes unstable. Human reasoning can shift, be biased, and be manipulated. A society can be brilliant in science and culture—and still commit terrible evil when morality is no longer anchored in something higher than intellect.
So the Torah places the logical mitzvos together with “Anochi Hashem Elokecha” to teach that even Mishpatim must be rooted in Kabbalas Ol—accepting the yoke of Heaven. As Chazal say: “Reishis chochmah yiras Hashem”—the beginning and foundation of wisdom must be yiras Shamayim.
And there is a second reason: if we do mitzvos only because they make sense, then we are missing the deeper essence of mitzvos—that a mitzvah is a connection to Hashem. A mitzvah is not merely a good idea or a moral practice. It is a way of bringing Hashem into one’s life, a bond with the Commander Himself.
The Other Side: Doing Chukim With Simchah
But the Torah teaches the reverse as well.
When it comes to Chukim, one might say: “I’ll do it because Hashem said so, but how can I be inspired? It doesn’t speak to me. It doesn’t make sense.”
That, too, is the yetzer hara talking.
The Torah demands not only obedience, but inner connection. A Jew can reach beyond intellect to a deeper place: the essence of the soul—where emunah lives, beyond reason. When that inner point is awakened, even a mitzvah that is beyond logic can be done with joy, because the joy comes from serving Hashem, not from understanding.
This is hinted in the opening words: “Asher tasim lifneihem.” “Place it before them” means more than instruction—it means to place Torah into their p’nimiyus, their inner world, so it becomes alive.
And that connects to life itself: we don’t always understand Hashem’s “chukim” in the events of our lives either. There are things we don’t understand, and they can frustrate us. But when we dig deeper, we remember we are servants of Hashem, and we work to accept what He gives with emunah—and even with simchah, while still davening for tov hanir’eh v’hanigleh, revealed goodness.
As the Alter Rebbe explains in Tanya, a great key to success is not only strength, but movement and energy. Even if the good inclination is stronger, sadness and heaviness can hold a person back. So we must work to stay uplifted—b’simchah—and focus on positive action, with the guidance the Alter Rebbe gives for dealing with challenges and not being pulled down by negativity.
These are only a few points from a longer sichah (the Rebbe develops this much further), but they already give a powerful perspective: Torah is not only a guide for what we do—it is meant to enter our inner life, shaping how we think, how we feel, and how we live.