Parashas Masei: Leviim as Role Models of Tolerance

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Artwork: Answered Prayers, by Seb McKinnon

Parashas Masei: Leviim as Role Models of Tolerance

The United States of America in the year 2019 is a curious place. For all of its "progressive" emphasis on compassion, inclusivity, and acceptance of intentional lifestyle choices, it is shockingly intolerant and unforgiving when it comes to unintentional offenses.

This category of "offenses" is not limited to criminal infractions, but includes any speech or behavior which inadvertently results in emotional pain or personal offense to others. Even the innocent act of expressing an unpopular opinion may be labeled an "attack" or an "act of aggression" by those who feel "victimized" by hearing sentiments with which they disagree.

There is a growing list of public figures - actors, comedians, artists, authors, politicians, celebrities - who have been guilty of such missteps and have been called out for their "crimes." As a result, these people are publicly shamed, boycotted, blacklisted, canceled, and subjected to verbal abuse or even physical threats, usually over social media. In many cases, even when they apologize and express genuine regret, they are not absolved or forgiven by the public. Instead, their transgressions are considered unpardonable and the perpetrators irredeemable. 

There is a mitzvah in this week's parashah which may shed some light on the Torah's view of this phenomenon. Upon entering the Land of Israel, Bnei Yisrael were commanded to establish 48 cities. These cities serve two functions: (1) all 48 cities are to be the residence of the Leviim (Levites), who do not own any other portion in the Land, and (2) six of these are to be designated as cities of refuge for unintentional murderers to flee from the goel ha'dam (blood avenger) where they will remain protected until their release upon the death of the Kohen Gadol.

The Sefer ha'Chinuch refers to this as "the mitzvah upon Israel to provide cities to the Leviim to dwell therein" (Mitzvah #408). In his explanation of "the root of the mitzvah" (i.e. the benefits or objectives of the mitzvah), he addresses the fact that these cities were to be inhabited by two very different groups of people. The distinguished scholar-class of the Leviim are to live side by side with the criminal-class of the unintentional murderers. The Torah could have set up the cities of refuge in the territories of the other tribes. Why send the unintentional murderers to live exclusively with the Leviim?

The Sefer ha'Chinuch provides two answers to this question, the second of which is as follows:

There is another reason for the matter: Since they (i.e. the Leviim) were men of [good] heart, renowned for the eminent worth of their character traits and their noble wisdom, it was evident to all that they would not detest the murderer who took refuge with them, and would not harm him, even if he killed one of their good friends or avenging blood relations (i.e. relatives whose kinship would cause them to avenge the victim's murder), since he killed them suddenly (i.e. unintentionally), without enmity. About this chosen tribe it is stated, "who said of his father and mother, 'I have not seen him'" (Devarim 33:9). In other words, they would do nothing in the world that was not in accordance with the upright path and in line with the truth, and their heart would not be swayed by the love of any person - not even love for a father and mother, brothers and sons, whose love is necessitated and compelled by nature - and all the more certainly not love for any other human beings. I wrote another argument about this subject in the eleventh negative mitzvah in Sidrah Behar.

The Sefer ha'Chinuch's comments in Behar pertain to the mitzvah "not to alter the open land around the cities of the Leviim or their fields" (Mitzvah #342). There he writes:

At the root of this mitzvah lies the reason that the cities of the Leviim were prepared for the needs of all the other tribes. For this was the tribe chosen for avodas Hashem (the service of Hashem), and their entire occupation was with chochmah (wisdom), since they were not burdened with the affairs of agricultural labor like the other tribes of Israel. Of them it was said, "They will teach Yaakov Your ordinances, and Israel Your Torah" (Devarim 33:10). And because of the fact that there was wisdom among them, all the Israelites always had dealings with them, apart from the fact that among their cities were the cities of refuge for an unintentional killer. As a result, the eyes of all Israel were on their cities, "for a man never knows what a day may bring forth" (Mishlei 27:1).

It was therefore only right that those cities, in which all had an equal interest, with which the heart of all was concerned, should have a perfection of beauty and attractiveness. It would be to the praise and advantage of the entire people of Israel. Therefore, the order was given about them that nothing in their arrangement was to be changed. For the Sovereign Ruler of all founded and constructed them and set their boundaries, and He saw that it was good. Then any alteration beyond His words would be nothing but a detraction and a disgrace. 

There are several important lessons to be gleaned from this explanation.

Lesson #1 - Unintentional Murderers Deserve Compassion: By "compassion" I mean that they are to be treated "in accordance with the upright path," like any other Jew or human being, and not "harmed" or even "detested" by their neighbors. Although this level of compassion wouldn't necessarily extend to intentional* murderers, who committed their crimes "with enmity," it should be noted that those who seek refuge in one of these cities are not entirely blameless. If a death came about as a result of a totally freak accident, then the murderer wouldn't be exiled to a city of refuge, since he wouldn't be liable at all. The only murderer who lives in the cities of refuge is one who killed another person as a result of harmful actions on his part which he should have foreseen and prevented. In other words, he is guilty of lethal negligence, and is at fault for the loss of life he caused. Nevertheless, the Torah expects him to be treated in a kind and civil manner, and to not to be stigmatized in any way for his crime. This is true even if he hasn't done teshuvah.

Lesson #2 - The Torah Has High Expectations for Such Compassion: The Sefer ha'Chinuch makes it clear that the Torah expects the inhabitants of the cities of refuge to treat these murderers with this level of compassion no matter what - even if the murder victim was a close friend or relative. This is an exceedingly high level. The Sefer ha'Chinuch even says that one's feelings towards the murderer shouldn't be swayed by the natural love for one's own family. One might think that it would be impossible to achieve this level of personal clemency - and yet, the Torah considers it possible.

Lesson #3 - The Torah Does Not Expect This of All People: Nevertheless, the Torah's expectations are only this high for Leviim, whose lives are devoted to avodas Hashem and chochmah. The Torah does not have such high expectations for average Jews. According to the Sefer ha'Chinuch, this is why there are no cities of refuge in the territories of the other tribes. If there were, the murderers who lived there would be mistreated and resented because of the crimes they committed. Only Leviim can be relied upon to not give in to the natural human inclination to vilify and marginalize those who have committed manslaughter. 

Lesson #4 - The Torah Expects Us to Aspire to This Level: Even though average Jews are not expected to reach the level of the Leviim, we are expected to look up to them as role models. As the Sefer ha'Chinuch stated, "the eyes of all Israel were on their cities," knowing how and with whom the Leviim live, and being inspired by their virtues - including their tolerance and compassion towards the murderers in their midst.

These insights provide a new perspective on the prevalent attitude in America towards public figures who inadvertently cause offense through their words or actions. Bear in mind that we are not talking about terrorists, serial killers, school shooters, rapists, pedophiles, white collar criminals, corrupt politicians, or anyone else who knowingly and intentionally commits wrongful acts. We are talking about those who caused harm or hurt through mistakes - unintentional speech or behavior which could have been seen and prevented, but was not, due to negligence on the part of the perpetrator.

The major take-away from the Sefer ha'Chinuch's explanation of this mitzvah may be stated as follows: If the Torah maintains that a person who mistakenly kills another human being through  negligence deserves compassion and protection from maltreatment, then certainly this would be true of a person who unintentionally caused emotional offense or hurt feelings. 

Does the Torah expect all Jews to be able to rise above the natural tendency to malign the wrongdoers in our midst? No. This is a difficult task and an uphill battle. Yet, the Torah does expect us to recognize "the upright path," and to acknowledge that it is possible for some of us to reach an exceedingly high level of compassion even towards those who committed the worst crime - taking another human life - provided that they didn't intend to cause harm.

Clearly there is a lot more to be discussed on the topic of how we ought to treat and feel about various types of wrongdoers and criminals. The best approach is to learn whatever we can from each Torah law, and strive to incorporate these lessons into the way we live. And even if we can't live up to the lofty ideals conveyed through these mitzvos, we should still take these lessons to heart to the degree that we are able, and continually aspire to better ourselves in accordance with the Torah's value system. 

* There are other mitzvos and other sources in the Torah which enlighten us as to how we should treat and feel about intentional murderers and other reshaim (evildoers). This topic is multifaceted, and is beyond the scope of this blog post. 

Parashas Chukas: No - it was NOT "Meant to Be"

Ordinarily I only write a new dvar Torah for the weekly parashah on Fridays. Today's blog post happens to be an exception to that rule. I've wanted to write about this topic for a while, and I just happened to find a Ralbag on Parashas Chukas which serves as a perfect platform for the discussion. Tomorrow's blog post will also be on Chukas.

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Artwork: Murder, by Allen Williams

Parashas Chukas: No - it was NOT "Meant to Be"

One of the greatest human tragedies is the death of one human being at the hands of another. Whether intentional (e.g. a murder, an act of terrorism, or a wartime casualty) or unintentional (e.g. vehicular manslaughter, an instance of gross negligence, or a freak accident), the sense of loss is compounded by the outrage over the involvement of human agency.

Although I haven't taken a formal survey, it seems to me that there are many Jews respond to such tragedies by saying "it was meant to be." People will say this about the full gamut of homicide, from suicide bombings, to car accidents, to complications arising from medical procedures. The "it was meant to be" sentiment will be expressed in a variety of ways. Some people exclaim "gam zu l'tovah," which they erroneously translate as "this, too, is for the best," or they invoke the even more common false notion that "everything is hashgachah pratis." Others give some variant of the allegedly more comforting explanation of "God wanted this person to be with Him" or the more neutral "it was his time to go." Others chalk it up to other common falsehoods, such as "this person must have fulfilled his tafkid (life's purpose) and that's why he died" or "her soul needed a tikkun (correction), and now it's free to move on." 

Although there is a lot that can be said here, I would like to limit the scope of our analysis from the outset. We will NOT be discussing this issue from the standpoint of God's justice or reward and punishment. We will NOT be dealing with the concept of God's Omniscience or Omnipotence. We will NOT address the question of what is or is not hashgachah pratis. We will NOT be discussing reincarnation or any of the doctrines that are based thereupon.We will certainly NOT discuss how to comfort someone who has experienced such a loss, or how to deal with such hardships in one's own life. 

The objective of this post is to make one point: just because one person dies prematurely at the hands of another doesn't mean that "it was meant to be." Or, to put it in positive terms: Judaism does hold that a person's life can be taken before his or her time. And what is true of death, which is the ultimate loss, certainly applies to other forms of harm and suffering that are brought about by human action.

My impetus for writing about this topic was the Ralbag's comparison of the Parah Adumah (Red Heifer) at the beginning of Parashas Chukas with the Eglah Arufah (Axed Calf) at the end of Parashas Shoftim. There are several structural similarities between these two mitzvah-institutions, most notably:

• Both involve cows: the Parah Adumah an adult female, and the Eglah Arufah a young calf.
• Both are associated with human death: the Parah Adumah is the means by which we purify people from tumas meis (halachic impurity brought about by a human corpse), and the Eglah Arufah is brought to atone for an unsolved murder of a human being.
• Both are associated with a prohibition of work: the Parah Adumah must not have work done with it, and the land on which the Eglah Arufah is killed may not be worked.

The Ralbag [1] explains that the difference in the age requirement of the Parah Adumah and the Eglah Arufah is intended to clarify Judaism's stance on premature death. He writes:

The [Eglah Arufah] is a young calf and the [Parah Adumah] is an adult cow in order to teach us that the killer caused this person to die prematurely - that is, the person whose corpse was found in the field, whose assailant is unknown - because many people have erred, thinking that this (i.e. premature death) is impossible. This [error] leads to great harm in the Torah's beliefs, and in philosophy, and in matters [2] of ethics and practical decision-making, and denies the reality of the possible - but this is not the place for this inquiry.

In other words, when we carry out the procedure of Eglah Arufah in response to an unsolved murder, the young calf whose life we cut short is supposed to remind us that this victim's life was cut short by the murderer. This reinforces the Torah's view that this person's death was not "meant to be," but occurred prematurely. 

According to the Ralbag, the belief that a person's death was "meant to be" leads to "great harm" in four areas. First and foremost, such a belief undermines the beliefs of Torah - specifically, the yesode (fundamental principle) of bechirah chofshis (free will), as the Ralbag specifies elsewhere. [3] Secondly, this belief is not consistent with philosophical truth (though there are philosophers that arose after the Ralbag who would disagree). Third, it causes harm in the realm of ethics and practical decision-making. Fourth, it is predicated upon a denial of the category of "the possible" (by presupposing that everything that can happen is either "necessary" or "impossible"). 

The clearest and most comprehensive treatment of Judaism's view of bechirah in Rishonic literature (that I know of) is the Rambam's presentation in the eighth chapter of the Shemoneh Perakim. As it so happens, he addresses each of the four points mentioned by the Ralbag. He even mentions our case, about murder. Instead of summarizing each of these points on my own, I'm going to let the Rambam speak for himself, with my own paragraph breaks for clarity:

It is important for you to know that our Torah is in agreement with Greek philosophy, which have been substantiated by true proofs, that man's actions are in his control; no one compels him to do anything, and nothing other than himself ever inclines him toward a character virtue or flaw - other than a predisposition, which, as we explained, would [merely] make him find it easier or harder to do a specific thing [but doesn't necessitate any action on his part].

If man were compelled in his actions, then all of the Torah's commands and prohibitions would be utterly pointless, since man would not have freedom in his actions. 

Likewise, all study, education, and craft-related training would also be in vain, since - according to this theory - man would have something external to himself compelling him to do a certain action, or to know a certain subject, or to have a certain trait.

Reward and punishment - whether society's or God's - would be absolutely unjust. For if one person ("Shimon") killed another ("Reuven") because he was forced or compelled to kill, and his victim was forced or compelled to be killed, then why should [the killer] Shimon be punished? And how could it ever be said that God, Who is just and fair, punished someone for doing something he was compelled to do and could not help but do, even if he didn't want to? 

Besides, any precautions we would take - like building houses, acquiring food, fleeing when frightened, and the like - would be pointless, since it would be "meant to be" by [Divine] decree. 

All of this is nonsense and absolutely invalid; it runs counter to rationality and common sense, tears down the wall of Torah, and deems Hashem to be unjust - God forbid! 

But the truth, beyond any doubt, is that all of man's actions are in his own hands. If he wants to do something, he can; and if he doesn't want to, he doesn't have to. There is no compulsion or force upon him. Therefore, the mitzvos are binding. 

[Hashem] said, "Behold - I have placed before you today the life and the good, and the death and the bad ... [therefore, choose life]" (Devarim 30:15-19), thus placing the choice in our hands. And there is necessarily punishment for transgression and reward for obedience, [as it is stated:] "[You will receive blessing] if you obey [the mitzvos of Hashem, your God], and [you will be cursed] if you disobey]" (ibid. 11:26-28). And there is an obligation to learn and to teach, [as it is stated:] "Teach them to your children" (ibid. 11:19), and "learn them, observe them, and do them" (ibid. 5:1). [There is an obligation] as well to do everything else that is involved in the learning and fulfillment of mitzvos.

One is also obligated to take all of the precautions [against harm or damage] enumerated in the Book of Truth, which says, "Make a maakeh (guardrail) for your roof ... lest someone fall" (Devarim 22:8); "[Let him go back to his house,] for he may die in battle" (ibid. 20:5-7); "[If you take your neighbor's garment as collateral, bring it back to him by sundown, for that is his only covering ...] What would he then sleep with?" (Shemos 22:26); "Do not take lower or upper millstones as a pledge" (Devarim 24:6). And there are many other statements in the Torah and the Books of the Prophets on this subject of taking precautions. 

As for the Sages' statement that "ha'kol bi'ydei shamayim chutz mi'yiras shamayim" - "Everything is in the hands of heaven except for fear of heaven" (Berachos 33b) - this, too, is correct, and follows what we have said.

Many people erroneously believe that a person is compelled to do certain things that are actually open to choice, for example, marrying a particular woman or acquiring a certain amount of money by stealing - but that is incorrect. For it is a mitzvah to marry a woman permissible to you by means of a kesubah (wedding contract) and kiddushin in order to have children, and God does not compel in the observance of mitzvos. In addition, if there were some wrongdoing in marrying her [i.e., if someone were to marry a woman who were prohibited to him], it would be a transgression, and God does not decree that a person transgress. The same would be true if one stole money from a person or robbed or defrauded him, then denied it and took an oath about the money [declaring it to be his own]. If one claimed that God decreed that the money be taken from the other person's hands and placed in his, it would be saying that God decreed a transgression, but that is not so. 

Rather, all of a person's actions are in his own hands, and through them obedience and disobedience will undoubtedly be demonstrated. For as we explained in the second chapter, Torah-based commands and prohibitions only apply to the deeds one is free to act upon or not. As such, the "fear of heaven" which is not in the hands of heaven, but is rather given to man, as we have explained, lies in this part of the soul.

And the statement that "everything [is in the hands of heaven]" is not intended literally; what they were referring to were natural phenomena which man has no control over, like being tall or short, whether it will rain or be dry, whether the air will be foul or pure, and everything else that occurs in the [natural] world, rather than through man's actions.

But the point the Sages made, that obedience or disobedience [i.e. the fear of heaven] are not by the decree of God or by His will, but rather by man's will, were deduced from the words of Jeremiah, who said, "Neither bad nor good comes from the mouth of the Most High" (Eichah 3:38) where "bad" refers to bad deeds and "good" refers to good deeds. That means to say that God does not decree whether a person will do bad deeds or good deeds.  

That being so, it is only right that man mourns for and regrets all his sins and transgressions, since he has done wrong of his own volition, as [Yirmiyahu] said, "What should a living man mourn for, a mortal man? For his sins" (ibid. 3:39). He then goes on to say that the cure for this illness therefore lies in our own hands. For just as we disobeyed by choice, so too, we can turn aside from our bad deeds. Hence he concluded with, "Let us search and examine our ways, and return to Hashem. Let us life up our hearts with our hands to God, in heaven" (ibid. 3:40-41).

There you have it. Let's summarize by applying the Rambam's analysis to the case of a premature death at the hands of another person. If someone was killed, whether intentionally or unintentionally, we do not say that "it was meant to be," for this would undermine the fundamental principle of free will on which the entire Torah is premised. To say that this person's death was "meant to be" would mean that the killer was somehow forced or compelled in his actions. If that were the case, how could he be held culpable by God or by human courts? Furthermore, from the standpoint of the victim, we cannot say that an untimely death was "meant to be" without reducing all of our preparatory and precautionary measures to absurdity. It would be senseless for the Torah to tell us to build a fence around our roof to prevent people from falling, or to send back the fearful person from battle, or to seek medical attention for illness and injury.

Rather, as Chazal said, "everything is in the hands of heaven except for the fear of heaven" and, as the Rambam explained, "the fear of heaven" includes any and every action that directly or indirectly involves a mitzvah or a transgression. This certainly applies to a case in which one person caused the death of another.

Some might object to all of this, saying, "What's the big fuss? Let people think that it was meant to be! After all, they don't realize the philosophical implications of what they are saying. They just want to take solace in a belief that will comfort them."

To my mind, this is what differentiates Judaism from other systems of belief. Other belief systems are the products of the human psyche, with all of its wishes, fantasies, and insecurities. Even non-religious people tend to adapt or reject beliefs on this subjective basis. Judaism is different. We strive to base our beliefs on objective knowledge, truth, and reality, to the best of our understanding. We do not accept or reject something as true based on how pleasing or displeasing it is, or how much we want it to be true. To the contrary, we aim to determine our beliefs by using our God-given intellect to understand the universe - based on our own analysis, in light of our knowledge of Torah - and to accept the truth even if it clashes with our desires and preferences.

Again, I would like to emphasize the questions that this article intentionally did not aim to answer. We haven't addressed questions of God's justice, reward and punishment, Omniscience, Omnipotence, hashgachah pratis, the fate of the soul, or how to provide comfort to the bereaved. Each of these topics is "longer than the earth and broader than the sea" (Iyov 11:9), and should be investigated with deliberation and clarity.

But certain investigations cannot begin until the mistaken assumptions which hinder them are cut down, and - like the life of the Eglah Arufah which is cut short by the free choice of the ax-wielder - so too, it is our duty as purveyors of Torah knowledge must cut down the erroneous beliefs which preclude philosophical growth and maturity. 

[1] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 19

[2] The phrase used by the Ralbag here is inyanim ha'mediniyim; since, in Gersonidean terminology, this includes interpersonal ethics and personal decision-making, I decided to translate it as "ethics and practical decision-making."

[3] see, for instance, Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Melachim I, Toeles #24 

Parashas Re'eh: MEAT IS MURDER!!!

Originally posted in August 2013. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Butcher's Cleaver, by Jason Felix

I've always wanted to write about what the Torah would say about "ethical vegetarians" - people who refuse to eat meat for moral reasons. This "school newsletter dvar Torah" is not that post, but it's the closest thing to it that I've written. Enjoy!

Parashas Re'eh: MEAT IS MURDER!!!

Is the slaughtering of an animal tantamount to murder? This is a hotly debated question in contemporary society, especially among those who practice vegetarianism for ethical reasons. Although a comprehensive treatment of the topic of vegetarianism is beyond the scope of this dvar Torah, we will aim to answer the question above based on a mitzvah in this week's parashah.

During the 40 years in the Midbar (Wilderness), Bnei Yisrael were only permitted to slaughter animals in the context of korbanos (sacrifices). If you wanted a steak dinner, you would bring your cow to the Mishkan (Tabernacle) where it would be slaughtered and offered up as a korban to Hashem. Its fat and blood would be brought on the mizbeach (altar), and only afterwards would its flesh become permissible to eat.

In this week's parashah, Moshe Rabbeinu informs Bnei Yisrael of two changes that will take place upon entering Eretz Yisrael. The first change is that once the Beis ha'Mikdash (Holy Temple) is built, it will become prohibited to slaughter and offer korbanos in any other location: "Beware for yourself lest you bring up your burnt offerings in any place that you see. Rather, only in the place that Hashem will choose ... there shall you bring up your burnt-offerings, etc" (Devarim 12:13-14).

The second change is that Bnei Yisrael will be permitted to slaughter animals for food even outside of the context of korbanos: "However, in your soul's desire you may slaughter and eat meat, according to the blessing that Hashem, your God, will have given you in all your cities, etc." In other words, if you want a steak, you can slaughter your cow without bringing it as a korban.

The prohibition to slaughter animals outside the context of korbanos was originally stated in Parashas Acharei Mos. It is there that we find the answer to our question:

"Any man from the House of Israel who will slaughter an ox, a sheep, or a goat in the camp, or who will slaughter outside the camp, and he has not brought it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting to bring it as an offering to Hashem before the Tabernacle of Meeting - it shall be considered as bloodshed for that man; he has shed blood, and that man shall be cut off from the midst of his people" (Vayikra 17:3-4).

The Torah openly states that if a Jew slaughters an animal outside of the context of korbanos, it is considered to be bloodshed! The Hebrew term used here is shfichus damim (lit. "bloodshed"), which is the same term that the Torah uses for the coldblooded murder of a human being! [1] How are we to understand this seemingly excessive condemnation of slaughtering an animal outside of the Beis ha'Mikdash? After all, the Torah clearly endorses slaughtering an animal inside the Beis ha'Mikdash, as well as slaughtering it for food!

The Sefer ha'Chinuch [2] provides an answer. He explains that the human beings do not have an inherent right over the lives of animals. We were only permitted to take an animal's life for our physical needs (e.g. food, medicine, material) or for our "spiritual" needs (e.g. korbanos and other mitzvos). Thus, to take an animal's life without any useful purpose is a wantonly destructive act, which is why the Torah refers to it as an act of shfichus damim.

The Sefer ha'Chinuch goes on to explain that a person who slaughters an animal as a korban outside of the Beis ha'Mikdash is committing a wasteful and destructive act. He is taking an animal's life without any practical benefit to himself, and he is doing so by transgressing Hashem's commandment. It is purely an act of bloodshed.

However, the Sefer ha'Chinuch stresses that there is a major difference between killing an animal and killing a human. He writes:

Even though [killing an animal] is not like spilling human blood, due to the superiority of the human and the inferiority of the animal, it is nevertheless called bloodshed, since the Torah did not permit spilling [its blood] for no useful purpose. 

In truth, the Sefer ha'Chinuch's entire explanation is based on pesukim in Parashas Noach. Before the Flood, human beings were only permitted to eat vegetation; animals were entirely off limits. After the flood, as part of the covenant with Noach, Hashem permits mankind to kill animals for food. In the very same paragraph, He reiterates the prohibition of murder: "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed; for in the tzelem Elokim (divine form) He made man" (Bereishis 9:6).

We see from the pesukim in Noach and Acharei Mos that the Torah regards taking any creature's life as an act of shfichus damim. However, a person who sheds the blood of another human being is liable for the death penalty because man was created b'tzelem Elokim. Sforno (like all other Rishonim) maintains that the tzelem Elokim refers to the human intellect - the capacity for rational thought. He explains that since the physical body of a human being is the vessel which serves his rational soul, the vessel itself is considered to be "precious" in God's eyes (so to speak). It is for this reason that He demands the blood of anyone who sheds the blood of his fellow human being. [3]

With animals, this isn't the case. It is clear that Hashem "cares" about the lives of all animals. He only permits us to slaughter animals for our physical or spiritual benefit, and if we take the life of an animal outside of those parameters, He considers it to be a destructive act of bloodshed.

[1] See, for example, Bereishis 37:22; Bamidbar 35:33; Devarim 21:7
[2] Sefer ha'Chinuch: Parashas Acharei Mos, Mitzvah #186
[3] Sforno on Bereishis 9:6

Parashas Pinchas: Torah Zealotry

Originally posted in June 2013. I'm posting this old dvar Torah blog post early in the week so that I'll be more motivated to write a new dvar Torah for Friday.

Artwork: Spear of Heliod, by Yeong-Hao Han

Parashas Pinchas: Torah Zealotry

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines “zealotry” as “fanatical devotion.” The WordWeb dictionary defines “zealotry” as “excessive intolerance of opposing views.” Dictionary.com defines “zealotry” as “undue or excessive zeal, or fanaticism” and “zealot.” These three definitions reflect the common notion of what “zealotry” means. According to all of these definitions, “zealotry” implies excessiveness, extremism, and a state of heightened emotion.

This week’s parashah opens with Hashem rewarding Pinchas for an act of zealotry. The Torah itself states that Pinchas was rewarded “because he was zealous for his God.” [1] Many divrei Torah have been given about how Pinchas took matters into his own hands and acted based on single-minded devotion to the execution of Hashem’s will, in spite of personal considerations. In this short dvar Torah we will examine whether or not Pinchas’s zealotry is in line with the common notion of "religious zealotry."

We will begin by reviewing the relevant events. At the end of last week’s parashah, Bnei Yisrael are seduced by the daughters of Moav. This leads to a surge of sexual promiscuity and idolatry which results in a plague sent from Hashem. These matters escalate to the point where Zimri ben Salu, prince of the tribe of Shimon, seizes Cozbi bas Tzur, a Moabite princess, and copulates with her in front of Moshe Rabbeinu and the entire nation. It is at this critical moment that Pinchas, grandson of Aharon, stands up and skewers the sinful couple, killing them both on the spot.

It would seem, based on a simple reading of Torah she’bi’Chsav, that Pinchas acted out of spontaneous religious fervor and outrage over the sinful behavior transpiring before his eyes. However, the Torah she’baal Peh sheds a different light on Pinchas’s actions. We have a mesorah that Pinchas was acting based on a halacha l’Moshe mi’Sinai [2] which he remembered upon seeing Zimri and Cozbi. This halacha l’Moshe mi’Sinai states that if a person sees a Jew and a non-Jew cohabiting in public (i.e. in front of at least ten other Jewish men), then “kanoim pog’im bo techilah” (“zealots may be the first to strike them dead”).

This mesorah is reflected in the Targum Yonasan’s Aramaic translation of the pasuk: “Pinchas … saw this, arose from the congregation, and took a spear in his hand” [3], which he translates as: “Pinchas … saw this and remembered the halacha, etc.”

The Rambam spells out the particulars of this halacha l’Moshe mi’Sinai [4]. For our purposes, there are three important details of the halacha that Pinchas remembered: 

1. The zealot is only permitted to kill the transgressors when they are in the midst of the sexual act. If he kills them even a moment beforehand or immediately afterwards, halacha considers him to be a murderer and he is liable for the death penalty.
2. This decision to act zealously must be arrived at independently by the zealot, without any influence from Beis Din. If the zealot asks for permission from Beis Din to kill the transgressors, they do not instruct him to do so. He must act on his own.
3. In general, whenever a person is chasing after someone to kill him, the would-be victim has a right to save his own life, even if it is necessary to kill his pursuer. This case is no different: the transgressor is permitted to save himself, even if this means killing the zealot. If this happens, and the zealot is killed before he kills the transgressor, then the transgressor is exempt from any punishment. 

Suddenly, Pinchas’s decision no long seems so spontaneous! He knew that he only had a specific window of time within which he could act, and that a second too late would make him a murderer. He knew that he couldn't ask Moshe whether this was the right thing to do; he had to act based on his own conviction in his knowledge. Not only that, but he had to act cautiously and strategically, knowing full well that Zimri had the legal right to fight back and kill him in self-defense.

Now we are in a position to appreciate the difference between the “religious zealot” and the Torah zealot. The religious zealot’s actions are dictated by his emotions, whereas the Torah zealot's actions are dictated by his mind, in spite of any emotions which threaten to prevent him from acting in accordance with halacha.

Pinchas was not acting out of unbridled emotional fervor. He remembered these halachos and carefully (but quickly) decided the proper course of action based on his knowledge of halacha. In spite of the risk to his own life, he leapt into action and did what halacha determined ought to be done – regardless of what other people thought, and in spite of his own emotions to the contrary. This is the type of zealotry valued by the Torah. 

[1] Sefer Bamidbar 25:11 

[2] Generally speaking, all Torah-level halachos must have a source in the Torah she’bi’Chsav – whether an explicit source or an allusion which is explained by Torah she’baal Peh. The only exception to this is a special category of halachos known as “halacha l’Moshe mi’Sinai.” These halachos are not stated or even alluded to anywhere in the Torah she’bi’Chsav. Some examples are: the structural requirements and color of tefillin, the recipe for the ink used to write a Torah scroll, and the minimum shiurim (halachic measurements). 

[3] Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Sefer Bamidbar 21:7 

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Kedushah, Hilchot Bios Assuros 12:4-5

Parashas Masei: The Release of Unintentional Murderers

Artwork: Moat, by Noah Bradley
(This is the image of an ir miklat in my mind, even though I realize that it's totally unrealistic.)

Parashas Masei: The Release of Unintentional Murderers

One of the final topics in Sefer Bamidbar is the mitzvah of establishing Arei Miklat (cities of refuge): 

When you cross the Jordan to the land of Canaan, you shall designate cities for yourselves, cities of refuge shall they be for you, and a murderer shall flee there - one who takes a life unintentionally (Bamibdar 35:10-11) 

An ir miklat serves a dual purpose. Prior to the murder trial, it serves as a sanctuary location for the unintentional murderer, offering him protection from the goel ha'dam (the "blood avenger" who is a relative of the murder victim): "The cities shall be for you a refuge from the avenger, so that the murderer will not die until he stands before the assembly for judgment" (ibid. 35:12). After the trial, if the murderer is found liable for the penalty of galus (exile), the ir miklat become his home/prison-cell until the death of the Kohen Gadol: 

The assembly shall rescue the murderer from the hand of the goel ha'dam, and the assembly shall return him to his city of refuge where he had fled; he shall dwell there until the death of the Kohen Gadol ... and after the death of the Kohen Gadol, the murderer shall return to the land of his possession (ibid. 35:25,28)

This last halacha about the release of the unintentional murderer upon the death of the Kohen Gadol presents two major difficulties:

1. Why is the death of the Kohen Gadol as the trigger of the unintentional murderer's release? What does the Kohen Gadol have to do with the crime of unintentional murder?
   
   
2. The length of the unintentional murderer's sentence in the ir miklat seems arbitrary! Practically speaking, the murderer might be in the ir miklat for any amount of time, from one day to 100 years! Most prison systems and punishments are designed with an eye toward uniformity: everyone who commits a given crime gets the same punishment. Here, the penalty of exile is subject to chance, and can result in a wide variety of outcomes. Why did the Torah structure the halacha with this element of randomness?

The Bechor Shor [1] offers the following answer to both questions:

We do not know how long the victim would have lived, had he not been killed by this [unintentional murderer]. We [therefore] estimate this based on the Kohen Gadol, who is chashuv (distinguished). We assume that, in general, he would not outlive the Kohen Gadol, who serves before Hashem. The murderer will remain in exile for the remaining year's of the Kohen Gadol's life. This is the reason why the Torah designates the span of his penalty based on the Kohen Gadol. And even if he was young and the Kohen Gadol was old, or vice versa, the Torah doesn't differentiate; however it falls out, it falls out.

According to the Bechor Shor, the time period that the unintentional murderer spends in galus should ideally be determined by the number of years he "stole" from the person he killed. For example, if the victim was 50 years old and would have lived to the age of 80, then the murderer should receive an exile sentence of 30 years, since that is the number of years that were deprived from his victim.

The problem is that a human court has no way of making this calculation, since it is impossible for us to know how long a person would have lived. To compensate for this lack of knowledge on our part, the halacha makes an "estimation" based on the lifespan of the most distinguished member of society: the Kohen Gadol. As someone whose life is dedicated to serving God, the Kohen Gadol represents the paradigmatic human being, and thus, he is a fitting representative of the potentially full human life that was squandered through the negligent actions of the unintentional murderer. Although this solution does not correspond with absolute justice, it does make us aware of that ideal. Whenever the murderer thinks about the indeterminate duration of his prison term, this will bring to mind the indeterminate length of the life he cut short. 

The Rambam [2] takes a different approach. He begins with the general purpose of the galus penalty: 

The commandment that a person who killed another unintentionally must go into exile is imposed with a view to calming the anger of the goel ha'dam, so that he should not see the man who brought about this misfortune. 

Unlike the Bechor Shor, who learns that the penalty of galus is intended to convey an idea (i.e. the dictates of absolute justice and our inability to perfectly implement it), the Rambam maintains that this galus is intended to achieve a practical outcome: "calming the anger of the goel ha'dam" by removing from society the person who caused his suffering. It's not clear whether this intended for the sake of the unintentional murderer (i.e. so that the goel ha'dam won't kill him), or whether it is for the sake of the victim's family members (i.e. so that they don't have the be aggrieved upon seeing the murderer walking around town), or whether it is for both parties.

The Rambam explains the halacha about the death of the Kohen Gadol as a further development of the theory he proposed: 

[The unintentional murderer's] return [from exile] is made contingent upon the death of the Kohen Gadol - the most honored of men, and the one most beloved in Israel. By his death the relative of the slain person becomes reconciled, for it is a natural phenomenon that we find consolation in our misfortune when the same misfortune or a greater one has befallen another person. No death causes more grief among us than that of the Kohen Gadol.

The Kohen Gadol's death may be likened (lehavdil) to the death of a beloved leader (e.g. FDR, JFK, Martin Luther King Jr.) or a widely admired public figure (e.g. Michael Jackson, Princess Dianna, John Lennon). When such individuals die, the whole country falls into a state of collective mourning. The Rambam argues that in this emotional state, the goel ha'dam is in the best position to finally let go and move on - especially if the death of the Kohen Gadol happens many years after the murder. 

Chazal [3] provide a much more cryptic answer to our questions. They explain that the death of the Kohen Gadol effectuates kaparah (atonement) for the unintentional murderer. Unfortunately for us, Chazal do not elaborate here on what they mean. 

Both the Bechor Shor and the Rambam preface their comments by saying that their intent is to explain the reason for these halachos based on the pshat (straightforward meaning) of the pesukim. Several questions still remain. What is the basis of the machlokes between the Rambam and the Bechor Shor? What did Chazal mean by their interpretation? Is there a relationship between Chazal's relationship and those given by the aforementioned Rishonim? 

And that, my friends, is where we will conclude for now. If you have answers, please share!

[1] Rabbeinu Yosef ben Yitzchak, Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 35:25

[2] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon, Guide for the Perplexed 3:40
[3] Talmud Bavli, Maseches Makkos 11b