Eretz Yisrael and the Eved Ivri – A Surprising Combination

The institution of eved ivri, the Hebrew slave, is, understandably, foreign to the modern ear and temperament. Nevertheless, like all laws of the Torah, there are important lessons and values that can be derived from the laws of the eved even during periods of history – like our own – when the laws themselves are not applicable.

In the event that a thief doesn’t have enough money to reimburse his victim, the Beth Din can sell him as an eved ivri as means of generating the necessary funds. However, under these circumstances the Torah limits the duration of the servitude, “shesh shanim ya’avod” to a six year term, “u-bashvi’it yeitzei la’chofshi chinam,” and on the seventh year the slave is freed (Shemos 21:2; see Rashi, s.v. ki sikneh). While it is natural to assume that in most cases the hopefully reformed thief would be happy to regain his freedom, the Torah allowed for the possibility that the slave would actually choose to remain in servitude to his master. In order to permit this extension the Torah imposes a necessary condition, requiring the master to bring his slave to the court and then, “ve’ratza adonav es ozno ba’martzea,” he pierces the slave’s upper ear (21:6).

In explaining the rationale of this surprising ritual, Rashi cites the teaching the Mechilta that this is actually a punishment for the eved. Furthermore, it is the ear, of all limbs, that is chosen for reprimand because “the ear” heard the commandment not to steal at Har Sinai and, despite this knowledge, the slave disregarded the prohibition and stole from someone.

Rav Yehoshua Leib Diskin questions why, if the piercing is a punishment for the slave’s original theft, does it not occur at the start of the slave’s servitude? After all, it would make more sense to punish the thief in the immediate aftermath of his crime and not 6 years later. Moreover, any slave who goes free at the end of his initial term never even receives this punishment. How, then, can we understand this peculiar procedure?

R. Diskin explains that, in fact, the true punishment of the thief is being sold into servitude for 6 years and, in most situations, no further punishment is necessary. However, in the rare circumstances when the slave voluntarily wants to remain in service for many more years he is indicating through his choice that, for him, the servitude wasn’t a punishment at all – “I love my master” (21:5) – but just the opposite. Therefore for such an eved the Torah decreed an additional punishment for the original theft.

Rav Hershel Schachter has suggested, in light of R. Diskin’s understanding, that this halacha is directly relevant to our relationship with Eretz Yisrael. After all, the Talmud (Yoma 9b) assumes that our exile into the Diaspora was a punishment and therefore, R. Schachter continues, the establishment of the modern State of Israel and our renewed access to Eretz Yisrael indicates that we have been forgiven. Our current situation, therefore, parallels the eved at the end of his 6 year term. Just as the slave’s decision to remain in servitude is criticized – and punished – because it indicates his mistaken attitude towards his punishment, we must be careful not to give Hashem the impression that we have the wrong attitude about our punishment of exile. As R. Schachter writes, “God forbid that by refusing to recognize the nature of one punishment we bring upon ourselves another.”

R. Schachter’s powerful words should certainly cause all of us to pause and consider the consequence – and message – of our actions and our commitment to Eretz Yisrael.

A fascinating parallel to this understanding might emerge, as well, from an analysis of a well known and difficult position of the Rambam. Unlike other rishonim, the Rambam omits the mitzvah of settling the land Israel from his enumeration of the 613 mitzvos. Some commentators have deduced from this omission that the Rambam’s opinion is, in fact, that there is no biblical mitzvah to settle land in our time; the commandment was limited to the initial conquest and settlement of the land in the time of Yehoshua. Most commentators, however, reject this radical conclusion and, therefore, struggle to find some other explanation for the Rambam’s omission.

Perhaps the most creative solution to this question was offered by Rav Shaul Yisraeli, who suggested that even though the Rambam does consider settling the land of Israel a biblical obligation, nevertheless he did not categorize it as an independent mitzvah because it is implicitly included in the mitzvah of Birkat Ha-mazon, thanking Hashem at the conclusion of a meal.  

R. Yisraeli notes that an essential component of the obligation of Birkat Ha-mazon is to thank Hashem for the land of Israel, as we mention in the second blessing, “al ha-aretz ve’al ha-mazon.” R. Yisraeli argues that it follows from this that if we truly appreciate the gift of the Eretz Yisrael then we must utilize – by settling the land – that gift. If, on the other hand, we leave the land fallow and chose to live in other lands then we are, in essence, rejecting the gift and obviously not thankful for it.

The common link between the ideas of both R. Schachter and R. Yisraeli is the notion that Eretz Yisrael is a gift that we have been given and that living there is the most natural and appropriate place for the Jewish people; living in the Diaspora is a punishment and is meant to be temporary. As in other areas of life and religious observance, our actions should reflect our values. If we value Eretz Yisrael and want to make sure that it is not taken away from us once again then each of us must do everything within our power to show Hashem that we truly appreciate His gift.