By Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel
CHULA VISTA, California — Talmudic wisdom urges us to be circumspect with our behavior as a community when a tragedy strikes home. Because of our collective and corporate sense of identity, we are all responsible for the moral condition of our communities. This idea can be seen in one of the more peculiar precepts found in the Torah known as the eglei aruphah. The precept derives from Deuteronomy 21:1-9, which centers on the discovery of a corpse near a community.
“If the corpse of a slain man is found lying in the open on the land which the LORD, your God, is giving you to occupy, and it is not known who killed him, your elders and judges shall go out and measure the distances to the cities that are in the neighborhood of the corpse.”
Explanation: The court must ascertain the cause of death; was there foul-play? What kind of crime occurred, and why? Was the man accidentally killed by a wild-beast? In any event, the death of the innocent person demands justice. There must be an atonement sacrifice to purify the earth of the blood that cries out for justice (see Genesis 4:10). At the end of the ritual, the court declares: “Our hands did not shed this blood, and our eyes did not see the deed; forgive O LORD, your people Israel, whom you have ransomed, and let not the guilt of shedding innocent blood remain in the midst of your people Israel.’ Thus they shall be absolved from the guilt of bloodshed . . .” (Deut. 21:7-9).
Talmudic discussions on this chapter raise an important forensic question on the text: Would it occur to anybody to suspect that the elders would be responsible for such a crime? Who could be more honorable than the judges?
The Sages point out that in biblical and as well as in rabbinic times, it was considered unsafe to let a guest leave a host’s home without being escorted for at least part of that person’s journey. The judges of a community are to some degree indirectly accountable for allowing a murder to occur on their watch, “The victim did not come to us hungry and we sent him away without any food. He did not come to us alone and we offered him no protection.”
I mention this story for a reason. Sometimes people can do mean-spirited things just by acting cruelly or indifferently toward one another. People do not always realize the kind of impact they can have on another human being’s life. We often don’t realize how an ugly remark, a hurtful statement or insult can affect another person’s day. A random act of kindness, a friendly smile can melt the walls of an icy world. Our cells have memory. Negative thoughts tear at the fiber of our lives. Sometimes we hurt people with an unhappy relish. We remember the traumas of our youth that remain with us for much of our lives. People often die from a broken heart.
Love is all we need.
As a rabbi, it is my job is to comfort the afflicted whenever humanly possible. Sometimes, my job is also to afflict the comforted—when the occasion warrants it—and this situation demands it.
I had a friend in Davenport, Iowa, who became a Jew by Choice but eventually felt unwanted by his new Midwest Jewish community.
When I think of this kind and sweet person, I feel proud to have helped him along his short but meaningful spiritual path. I love all “Jews by Choice.” For every new Jew, that’s one more Jew to make up for the ones Hitler killed.
My friend John Smithson’s life reminded me of a famous midrashic teaching of the Sages:
“And the Levite . . . and the proselyte shall come” (Deut. 14:29). Moses spoke up to the Holy One, “Do You really consider a proselyte as important to You as a Levite?!” God replied, “He is even more important to Me, since he became a proselyte for My sake. A parable of a stag that grew up in the wilderness and on his own joined the flock. The shepherd not only gave him food and drink, but loved him more than any of the other animals in his flock. Someone asked the shepherd, “How is it that you love the stag more than any other in the flock?” He replied: I had to perform many kinds of labor for my flock until they grew up: I took them out in the morning and brought them back in the evening. But this one, who grew up in the wilderness and forests, came into my flock—all on his own! Should I not love him very much?” Likewise the Holy One said, “Much did I have to labor for Israel: I brought them out of Egypt, lit the way for them, sent down manna for them, swept in quail for them, made the well gush up for them, and encompassed them with clouds of glory before they were willing to accept My Torah. But this one came on his own volition. I consider him to be not only the equal of an Israelite, and even as equal to a Levite!” [1]
For the life of me, I cannot understand why some people in his new adoptive Jewish community failed to appreciate his wit and candor, not to mention his heart’s warm generosity. I hope the folks who may have driven him away will ask John’s soul to forgive them.
I offered to fly out and conduct the funeral, but the family had already asked their Anglican priest to bury John. Fortunately, Rabbi Henry Karp of Temple Emanuel of Davenport came forward to say a few personable words.
” We at Temple Emanuel enjoyed the privilege of getting to know him and work with him—especially as he got involved in some of our social justice projects, such as serving, meals to the homeless at Cafe on Vine,” Rabbi Karp said. “Personally, I was always impressed with his energy, enthusiasm, and warmth. One could always expect to receive a friendly and sincere greeting whenever encountering him. John was a very good man. His passing is a great loss to all who knew him. My heart goes out to his loving family.”
Others expressed on a memorial website what kind of man John was.
* You were a wonderful person to work with and will be very much missed. You always had a smile on your smile and a positive attitude.
* John, you will be deeply missed by your friends, family, and co-workers. You were such a creative, thoughtful, and caring person. It’s too soon to say goodbye, rest in peace my friend.
* John, you were always thoughtful and caring whenever our paths crossed. Always took the time to ask how the day was going. You will be greatly missed my friend. My thoughts and prayers go out to your family.
*John was an extraordinary gentleman. His deep and insightful understanding of the human spirit was awesome. I will miss our conversations greatly. “They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.”
*My friend, John, is gone from this world. That is a harsh reality I’m having a hard time believing. I will miss that big ole bear and his smiling face. Too soon, my friend.
As for myself, I will remember you, John Smithson, when I say the Kaddish Prayer. I will think about how you helped make our world a better place in spite of the obstacles faced along the spiritual journey less traveled. May God’s eternal Presence embrace you with love.
**
Notes:
[1] Numbers Rabbah 8:2, Midrash Tehillim 146:8.
*
Rabbi Samuel is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Sholom in Chula Vista. He may be contacted at michael.samuel@sdjewishworld.com