There is a rather bizarre law at the end of Parshat Shoftim:1 the case of a murder victim discovered lying in a field, where no one knows what happened to him or who the perpetrator was. The Torah mandates an elaborate procedure in which the senior rabbinic judges must go out and measure which is the nearest town to where the victim was found. The distinguished elders of that town must take a calf and kill it as an atonement for the death of this innocent victim, while declaring:
“Our hands did not spill this blood, nor did our eyes see this crime.” 2
Why such a strange ceremony?
Maimonides explains that the Torah deliberately wanted the court to do something unusual to create a news item that people would talk about far and wide. If news of the murder spread, it might lead to the eventual apprehension of the murderer and subsequent justice.3
Abarbanel4 argues that by designing such an elaborate ritual the Torah intended to create an uproar. We dare not allow murder to go unnoticed; this shocking act of bloodshed must create a stir in the community. People must be outraged. G‑d forbid that the killing of innocent people should become commonplace.
The Talmud5 asks why the elders of the closest town must declare, “Our hands did not spill this blood.” Would we even imagine in our wildest nightmares that the senior rabbis were a gang of murderers?
But the Talmud explains that if the elders and city leaders had not provided food, shelter, or safe escort for the individual, they may have indirectly allowed this terrible crime to occur.
I can’t help but think about how commonplace bloodshed has become in our own society. Every week there is another shooting spree with so many innocent lives being lost to wanton carnage. Nowhere feels safe. Not our schools, malls, or public spaces.
In my own community in South Africa, violent crime, while perhaps not as bad as it once was, is still unacceptably high. For years now, the Jewish community has mobilized sophisticated security organizations to protect our shuls and schools, our public events, and our neighbourhoods, from opportunistic criminals and political extremists. The sad reality is that in the broader country murder has become commonplace. It hardly makes the headlines. This is precisely what Abarbanel meant.
Saving Spiritual Lives
And what about spiritual loss of life? What about the Jewish lives and futures that are lost every time a young person marries outside the faith or simply deems his or her Jewishness irrelevant?
Can we state with confidence that “our hands have not shed this blood?” Have we done everything in our power to stem the tide of young Jews giving up their birthright and heritage? Have we fed them, nourished them, and shared the elixir of life, our Torah way of life? Do they even know what they are giving up?
Did we give them shelter? A warm, loving home, school, or shul environment? And if they did step into shul, were they welcomed and made comfortable enough to feel that they belonged? Or were they told, “Sorry, you’re sitting in my seat.” Or, “Is this how you come dressed to shul?!”
Our son Nissen and his wife Ariella are the directors of Chabad on Campus in Cape Town.
Not long ago, a Cape Town business and community leader told us that Nissen is “the most important rabbi in the whole city!” We were quite surprised to hear this. I mean, he doesn’t even have a shul yet.
He explained: “He is fighting on the front lines of the battle against assimilation.”
How true. Who knows how many thousands of young Jews have been lost to Judaism and attracted to other movements and causes on college campuses around the world.
Indeed, a very important part of the work of our rabbis and rebbetzins on campus is feeding the students. The delicious, hot Shabbat dinners served at the Chabad House on Friday nights attract many young people and, inevitably, they are warmed, fed, and inspired spiritually as well.
I think, too, of the cultural conflicts that arise in Israel, and I wonder: Instead of fighting, wouldn’t it be a better idea to invite a family for Shabbat dinner? Surely, that would break down the barriers and reveal the truth behind the false facades and nasty caricatures that we’ve developed over the years. Wouldn’t that be a better way to bring people together and to show them that we are all human, all Jews, and all part of the same sacred people?
Let us be hospitable, physically and spiritually. Please G‑d, we will experience no more losses, and our children will come home safely.
You have hit the focal point dear Rabbi.
Thousands of Jews in the world are moving away, while those who approach with ardor and fervor, because they are recovered as anusim or crypto Jews, are not recognized, rather discouraged, viewed with suspicion, discarded, humiliated and considered vulgar goym.
Whoever stains himself with these errors, never recognized and therefore never expiated, will find them clearly engraved in the book of life. Anyone who behaves as if Judaism were an exclusive club of the international jet set, where alleged intruders are rudely escorted to the door, will have to give an account to G-d.
The Emunah and Yirat Shamayim, of the discarded (as if suffering from Tzara'at) will weigh on the souls of the irreducible censors, who instead of broadening the ranks favoring those who return to the faith, shake the sticks of blind rigor.
Maybe they think G-d wants it.
As people go out the back door they close the gates for anyone who wants to re-enter.
G-d bless you
Yosef,
Thank you for your comment. Judaism has neither have been nor ever will be an exclusive club. Our rabbis have always welcomed anyone who is willing to walk in the ways of Hashem with open arms. If you have examples of such behavior, please keep in mind that misguided individuals exist in every group but are not to be considered representative of all Jews. We should never propagate these false stereotypes against the Jewish nation.
You're right, let's pretend these situations don't exist, at least they don't upset consciences; hypocrisy is always the most comfortable and spacious way. They are not stereotypes, but people, they are not labels, but people.
Glad the rabbis you know are welcoming.
Unfortunately these unpleasant and unbecoming situations exist, it is useless to hide them just to look different.
Just as the so-called "false Jews" should not be ashamed of having a millenary faith.
In Italy all reform congregations are not recognized by Orthodox Judaism and in doing so are not recognized by the Government.
I prefer orthodoxy but when I ask for a beracha, the rabbi puts a book on my head instead of his hand, even if my father's cousin died in a death camp, as certified by a document from Yad Vashem.
So when I want to feel accepted and not tolerated, I go to Florence in the reform coven, where I’m like the others.
I talk about it between us and never with non-Jews.
But better to hide these things…
B”H
In January Prof. Di Porto, Z”L, he escaped from Nazi roundups in Rome, died: he spent his entire life affirming the rights of anusim and crypto-Jews who suffered and continue to suffer. More than stereotypes.
I am glad that you know welcoming rabbis in your neighborhood and in the surroundings where you live but this is only a reality that surrounds you and does not in the least reflect the situations I describe.
So the recommendations to keep quiet with me don't take root, sweeping the dust under the carpet doesn't belong to me.
Am Israel is a widespread and plural reality and speaking of existing dysfunctions does not mean denigrating it but rather highlighting its problems and the possible corrective measures to be undertaken. An internal Tikkun Olam, a Teshuvah to undertake; that in the past millennia our dear prophets would have requested too often unheard with the consequences that Am Israel then suffered, we know this.
Now you can censor this reply, but then you had to read it
Yosef
I am moved by your heartfelt response. Even though it bears a lot of past pain, your desire to cleave to Hashem and to Jewish people is obvious. Sometimes practical action trumps wallowing in resentment. To be a Jew you don not need a certified document from Yad Vashem or a Beracha from a Rabbi but a Jewish mother. If you lack that, your local Chabad Rabbi will put you in touch with people who shall guide you through a conversion. They help thousands convert each year. I assure you that a proper convert is as Jewish as any. Some of our holiest sages have been converts.
If the Kosher conversion steps are not acceptable to you, i.e. "walking in ways of Hashem", then you are left with living your life as a righteous goy and nevertheless beloved by Hashem. My advice is to stay away from non-kosher split branches from Judaism. We all love for the 7.9 billion people in the planet to be Jewish but alas Hashem has prohibited us from changing the Mitzvot of the Torah.
Thanks a lot for the reply.
I became Jewish on August 14, 2014, in front of a beth din in London. The Rabbi who guided me along the way is dear Leigh Lerner of NYC, residing in Montreal.
I follow as many mizvoth as I can support, with emunah and Yirat Shamayim. I have no grievances, mine is not a lashon hara, but only a dim reflection of the suffering suffered by many. The Orthodox rabbi who rests the book on my head would have liked me to convert to the Orthodox; moving to Rome is the condition, but for work reasons I can't do it.
I don't know a Chabad rabbi from Rome, but if he also wanted me to be transferred to Rome, nothing would change.
I have no reservations or qualms about following the mizvoth, including kasheruth: I became a vegetarian so as not to eat non-kosher meat, which is not available where I live. Living as a Jew has never given me any issues. At the Orthodox temple of Rome they treat me well, even if they don't count me in the minian; Florence Reform is my refuge
B”H
I have a connection with Chabad because when I was studying to be the ghiur, one night an elderly gentleman with a white beard and a high-brimmed black hat came to me in a dream; he was sitting on the cabinet near my bed while leafing through my siddur bene Romi, at a certain point he told me that he was excellent because on the left page there was the Italian translation from the Hebrew text.
Some time later by chance I discovered that the elderly gentleman, satisfied with my book, was the Rebbe of Lubavitch.
A Chabad boy from Rome to whom I told the event told me that such a thing was normal for the Rebbe. In fact, more than a dream, it seemed like a real encounter.
Stories of faith, true stories.
I generally do not tell this night vision.
There was also another incident that I think he helped me.
I also wrote a letter to his Ohel.
I’m attached to him, as a person, without idolatry.
Judaism is an idea not a religion, it belongs to me, deep inside me, passed on from my father, Z”L