19 Aug RE’EH: DO YOU EVER “SLAUGHTER” ANOTHER JEW? A STRANGE TALMUDIC INSIGHT INTO A BIBLICAL VERSE CAPTURES THE SENSE OF JEWISH UNITY
No Gashes
There is a fascinating
verse in this week’s
parsha Reah:
Re’eh 14:1: Banim
Atem L’Hashem
Elokeichem Lo
Sisgodedu V’Lo Sasimu Karcha Bein
Eineichem L’Meis
You are children of the Lord, your G-d. You
shall neither cut yourselves nor make any
baldness between your eyes, for the dead.
(Devarim. 14:1)
The custom of many pagans was to cut
themselves in demonstration of grief over the
death of a loved one. To vent their agony,
they would make incisions in their flesh, pull
out their hair, and flay their skin. The Torah
prohibits this behavior. There must be limits
to grief. This is the meaning of the Hebrew
word “sisgodedu,” to scrape off the flesh.
The Talmud, however, adds a second meaning
to this commandment:
Lo Sisgodedu – Lo Sa’asu Agudos Agudos
The Torah is saying: Do not splinter yourself
into separate groups. (“Sisgodedu,” from the
root word “agud” or “agudah,” means
groups.)
This is a prohibition against the Jewish
people becoming divided. Practically, this is
a prohibition against one Jewish court
dividing into two and guiding the community
in a conflicting fashion, creating division and
conflict.
One practical example would be this. If a
synagogue has a certain tradition of how to
pray, one may not come and begin praying in
a different tradition without the consent of
the community.
But there is something strange here, and the
question was first pointed out by the 16th
century Jewish sage and leader, Rabbi
Yehuda Leow (1512-1607), known as the
Maharal, chief Rabbi of Prague (who one of
the most influential Jewish personalities of
his time, and author of major works on
Jewish thought.) The Talmud and the Midrash
often present various interpretations for one
biblical term or verse; but nowhere do we
find two interpretations that are completely
disconnected. On the simple level,
“sisgodedu” means scraping off your skin.
Now the Talmud tells us that it also means,
“don’t split up into separate groups.” How do
these two divergent instructions come
together in a single word? Why would the
Torah communicate such two disparate ideas
in one word-lacerating your body and
dividing a community?
Or to put it more poignantly and humorously,
the sages, it seems, by imposing this second
meaning are “violating” the very injunction
they are trying to convey. They take a simple
word in the verse and they “splinter” its
meaning to connote divergent interpretations
that seem to lack any common streak?
In words of the Maharal: “Every man of
wisdom and understanding will be amazed at
the relationship of their [the sages] words
with the simple meaning of the text, at a
depth that is truly awesome. Yet, the man
who is a stranger to this wisdom, will wonder
at their unlikely reading of the verse, their
words seeming implausible to him.”
One Organism
Yet it is here that we can once again gain
insight into the depth of Torah wisdom.
The truth is, that the two interpretations are
not only not divergent, they are actually one
and the same. They both represent the same
truth-one on a concrete, physical level; the
other on a deeper, spiritual level.
The Torah prohibits us from cutting our skin
as a sign of bereavement. Our bodies are
sacred; our organism is integrated, precious
and holy; we must never harm it. We must
not separate even a bit of skin from our flesh.
Even difficult moments of grief don’t allow
us to give up on our life and on the sacredness
and beauty of our bodies.
But that is exactly what we are doing when
we allow our people to become splintered.
The entire Jewish nation is essentially one
single organism. We may number 15 million
people, and come from different walks of
life, profess extremely different opinions,
and behave in opposite ways, but we are
essentially like one “super organism.” When
I cut off a certain Jew from my life, when I
cut myself off from a certain Jewish
community, I am in truth cutting off part of
my own flesh.
When I cut my skin, I am lacerating my body.
When I cut you off from me, I am lacerating
my soul. Because our souls are one.
Only G-d
I once read the following powerful story.
In the late 18th century, in Eastern Europe,
there was a terrible conflict between the
Chassidim and their opponents, the
Misnagdim, who suspected the Chassidim in
heresy and blasphemy. The chief opponent
was the Vilna Gaon, the famed Rabbi Elijah
(1720-1797), from the Lithuanian city
Vilnius, who issued a ban (cherem) against
Chassidim. He excommunicated them from
the Jewish community. It was a terrible
division which continued for decades.
The Misnagdim came to one of the greatest
students of the Vilna Gaon, Rabbi Refael
Hakohen Katz, the Rabbi of Hamburg and
author of Toras Yekusiel (1722-1803), and
asked him to sign the ban. He refused. They
said: “But your own Rebbe, the Vilna Gaon,
signed it, and your Rebbe is like an angel of
G-d!”
This was his response:
There is a famous question on the story of the
Akeida, the binding of Yitzchak, in Bereishis.
G-d instructs Avraham to bring up his son
Yitzchak as an offering. Avraham complies.
At the last moment, as he is about to slaughter
Yitzchak, The Torah states: “And a heavenly
angel of G-d called out to him, and said:
Avraham! Avraham!… And he said: ‘Do not
stretch out your hand against the lad, nor do
anything to him.” At the last moment,
Yitzchak is saved.
There is something strange about this story.
The instruction to bring Yitzchak as an
offering came directly from G-d. G-d Himself
told Avraham to offer his son to Him. Why
did the reverse stop-order come from an
angel and not from G-d?
The answer, said Reb Refael, is this. If G-d
wants to tell you not to touch a Jewish child,
sending an angel will suffice. But if He wants
you to “slaughter” another Jew, an angel
can’t suffice! G-d Himself needs to come and
tell you to do it. If you are going to “slaughter”
another Jew, make sure you hear it from G-d
Himself.
To let Yitzchak live, the instruction could be
communicated via an angel. To let Yitzchak
die, G-d needed to show up Himself.
“My Rebbe is an angel of G-d,” Reb Refael
said. “But I will not sign a ban against another
Jew,” even when an angel tells me to do so.
To “slaughter” a Jew I need to hear it from
G-d Himself.
[The source of the above story is Toras
Yechiel by Rabbi Schlezinger Parshas
Vayeira. Chut Hameshulah, a biography of
the Chasam Sofer, page 27. In the latter the
name of the student of the Vilna Gain is given
as Reb Zalman of Valazhin, who was one of
the most beloved students of the Vilna Gaon.
There he also adds that when the Vilna Gaon
heard this response, he himself abstained
from any further action against the
Chassidim!
It is also interesting to note, that according to
many sources, the famed Chafetz Chaim,
Rabbi Yisroel Meir Kagan, who dedicated his
life to increasing Jewish unity, and his works
spread among all Jews, was a grandson of
Reb Refael of Hamburg.]
Be Careful
Sometimes we get into fights with people
over idealistic reasons. We “slaughter”
people-with our words or actions-and we feel
that we are acting on behalf of an angel. We
feel angelic about our actions.
Be wary, says the Torah! If you are going to
cut someone off from your life, you want to
hear it from G-d Himself. If not, let it go.
What is the connection between the opening
of the verse about our being the children of
G-d and the prohibition of gouging ourselves
over the death of a loved one?
The Ohr Hachaim explains that the Torah is
teaching us that death has another dimension
to it. It can be compared to a person who sent
his son to a faraway land in order to start a
business there. The son settled in that place
and over time became very close to many
fine people there. After many years, the
father summoned the son to return home and
the son acceded to his wishes. The son is not
lost. Those who had grown to know and love
him are no longer able to see him, but the son
is not lost. On the contrary, the son is
returning home to his father. The thought of
those friends going ahead and gouging
themselves over the agony of the son’s
departure is unjust. Sadness and a melancholy
feeling are in order. Gouging is definitely
out. Because “Banim a’tem laHashem
Elokaichem,” You are children of Hashem
your G-d.” At death, the person is returning
to the Father. The duration of that person’s
visit to this transient world has come to a
close. The time has come to return home.
Therefore, “Lo sisgodedu,” do not gouge
yourselves over a death. Reacting in such a
way really contradicts our beliefs.
The Chizkuni explains that the basis for the
command not to gouge ourselves is that we
are the children of Hashem–we are mere
children. Do we have an understanding of
why we live and why we die? Can we fathom
the Divine decisions which determine these
occurrences? Do we appreciate the meaning
of life? Do we comprehend why a person is
born or why they die? A child does not
comprehend the decisions that a mature
father makes-and we too are children. Thus,
“Lo sisgodedu{do not gouge yourselves}.”
Cf. Ibn Ezra, Ramban, Daas Zekenim,
Sefurno and Klei Yakar for their explanations
in the juxtaposition.