We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.
So wrote Thomas Jefferson and the Continental Congress some 249 years ago. It is a very interesting statement, too. My 11th grade English teacher pointed out that by saying these truths are self-evident, it means that they will not nor do they think necessary to explain how they came to the conclusion that all men are equal, have rights, and governments exist to protect said rights and should be replaced when they fail in that regard. You just have to take their word for it. It’s obvious.
Additionally, as Yuval Harari has written, are any of these things really self-evident? After all, they seem to rely on a lot of assumptions based on Enlightenment philosophy and English political history. He suggests a more “evidence-based” version as an example of the way language works. Here’s my own retelling in the world of Yuval Harari:
We hold these facts as consistent with observable data, that all creatures, though evolved different, are capable, to some degree, of life and pleasure; that people establish governments; and that sometimes people abolish or change governments.
Not as inspiring, is it? It might be more accurate, to some degree, but it just doesn’t feel right.
This week’s parsha begins with the law of the red cow, the ashes of which are needed to purify a person or object contaminated by contact with a dead body. The miṣwɔ́h is introduced with the famous words זֹאת חֻקַּת הַתּוֹרָה, This is the Torɔ́’s ḥuqɔ́.
What is a ḥuqɔ́ ?
The usual translation is “statute.” Statute is another word for law or rule. A ḥuqɔ́ must be a special kind of rule, though, if it only appears in two places: Here, and by the spoils of the Midyanite war (Bamidbar 31:21)
Rashi quotes Miḏrash Tanḥumɔ that ḥuqɔ́ and ḥoq are used for commandments that the yeṣɛr hɔrɔʿ and Gentile nations ask “what kind of commandment is this?” mockingly, and Hashem reiterates that we must follow them because they are Divine decrees. The midrash gives a list of four commandments with paradoxical nature that open themselves up to accusations that the Torah is arbitrary and contradictory: The prohibition of a brother’s wife, and the commandment of yibum; the prohibition of Shaatnez, and the commandment to wear ṣiṣiṯ (even putting the woolen təḵelɛṯ thread on a linen garment); the released goat on Yom Hakipurim that purifies us of our sins while contaminating the one who led it out; and the red cow, which purifies one contaminated by a corpse but contaminates those who prepare it.
The Miḏrɔsh also says that this paradox makes pɔrɔ aḏumɔ a very hard commandment to understand. Nobody on earth, not even King Solomon, could understand the nature of this paradox. In this approach, ḥoq means a commandment beyond human understanding, unlike those that seem logical to us, like the prohibitions against murder, stealing, and being a Red Sox fan.
Rav Hirsch takes a slightly different approach. The word ḥoq first appears in the Torɔ at the end of Wayigash (Bereshith 47:22) “Only the land of the priests did [Yosef] not acquire, for the priests’s due [ḥoq] was from Pharaoh and they would eat their due which Pharaoh gave them; thus, they did not sell their land. Ḥoq in this context is a due, something the Egyptian priests could count on from Pharaoh so they didn’t have to worry about the famine.
So too, Rav Hirsch says, by miṣwoṯ. Ḥuqim are commandments that are basic to the definition of being a Jew. Part of the definition of an Egyptian priest was being supported by Pharaoh, and part of the definition of a Jew, l’havdil, is to have the rule of pɔrɔ aḏumɔ.
Ḥoq comes from the root חקה, which means to inscribe in stone, as we see in the song of the Well in the end of the parsha במחקק במשענותם. Judaism cannot exist without purity. The two miṣwoṯ introduced this way are both purity-related; one is the basis of טהרת קדשה as Sifra calls it, symobolic purity in the language of Rav Hirsch, which affects our relationship with the Beis Hamikdash. The other, purging utensils of absorbed nonkosher food, is the basis of טהרת גופות, physical purity that allows us to fulfil the Torah.
חקים and משפטים almost always come together. It takes a nation reared to self-control in a regimen limiting what they eat, drink, wear, and with who they have relations, to be able to create a functioning society where murder, stealing, and being a Red Sox fan are frowned upon. Our duty as Jews is to create a society where we realize that the חק is just as logical as a משפט, if not moreso, because it is the basis on which the latter stands.
As far as the Continental Congress was concerned, everything they wrote in the Declaration of Independence was self-evident. They could only claim independence if they had the moral high ground. They could only have that if all people were equal and that governments must give way to people’s rights for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It would be the job of coming generations to make this ideal a lived reality. Just as it is our job as Jews to make the Torah ideal a lived reality.
To conclude with an old joke, this version curtesy of https://aish.com/51475187/
After months of negotiation with the authorities, a Talmudist from Odessa was finally granted permission to visit Moscow.
He boarded the train and found an empty seat. At the next stop, a young man got on and sat next to him. The scholar looked at the young man and he thought: This fellow doesn't look like a peasant, so if he is no peasant he probably comes from this district. If he comes from this district, then he must be Jewish because this is, after all, a Jewish district.
But on the other hand, since he is a Jew, where could he be going? I'm the only Jew in our district who has permission to travel to Moscow.
Ahh, wait! Just outside Moscow there is a little village called Samvet, and Jews don't need special permission to go to Samvet But why would he travel to Samvet? He is surely going to visit one of the Jewish families there. But how many Jewish families are there in Samvet? Aha, only two -- the Bernsteins and the Steinbergs. But since the Bernsteins are a terrible family, so such a nice looking fellow like him, he must be visiting the Steinbergs.
But why is he going to the Steinbergs in Samvet? The Steinbergs have only daughters, two of them, so maybe he's their son-in-law. But if he is, then which daughter did he marry? They say that Sarah Steinberg married a nice lawyer from Budapest, and Esther married a businessman from Zhitomer, so it must be Sarah's husband. Which means that his name is Alexander Cohen, if I'm not mistaken.
But if he came from Budapest, with all the anti-Semitism they have there, he must have changed his name.
What's the Hungarian equivalent of Cohen? It is Kovacs. But since they allowed him to change his name, he must have special status to change it. What could it be? Must be a doctorate from the University. Nothing less would do.
At this point, therefore, the Talmudic scholar turns to the young man and says, "Excuse me. Do you mind if I open the window, Dr. Kovacs?"
"Not at all," answered the startled co-passenger. "But how is it that you know my name?"
"Ahhh," replied the Talmudist, "It was obvious."