"Mishneh Torah" (Deuteronomy) - Ethics Precede Historical Narratives

 

“Deuteronomy is in essence a programme for the creation of a moral society in which righteousness is the responsibility of all.” - Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

Last week’s Parashah, Deuteronomy 21:10-25:19, was Ki Teize (“When you go out to war….”). Ramba"m (Maimonides) notes that it is an extraordinarily mitzvah-rich parashah. It lists around 76 out of the 613 Torah commandments thus marking the Torah’s central practical section. It covers diverse topics including laws of war, family laws, interpersonal ethics, civil and commercial regulations as well as agricultural laws.

This week’s Parashah, Ki Tavo (“When you enter the land…”), begins with two mitzvot (Bikkurim and the declaration over tithes) that serve as culmination rituals, celebrating the conclusion of Torah life in the Land.

In his book “Deuteronomy 1-11,” the Yisraeli Biblical scholar, Moshe Weinfeld comments that both the Greek appellation of the book, deuteronomion and the Hebrew appellation "Mishneh Torah" means “repeated law” or “second law” and alludes to the fact that Deuteronomy is a (revised) repetition of a large part of the law and history of the Tetrateuch (the first four books). Unlike Genesis, Exodus, Numbers and Joshua  which narrate Yisrael’s journey and events, Deuteronomy retells history selectively. According to him, Deuteronomy is the “national constitution" defining the covenantal relationship and governing principles.

Earlier Torah books, as many of us have witnessed, chronicle events, consecutively and as they happen: the story of creation, the patriarchal stories, Exodus and Numbers, Sinai and wilderness wanderings. Though Mosaic speeches appear in them, the former are generally embedded in the larger historical narrative.

Ramba”n (1194-1270) similarly asserts that Moshe’s purpose in “Mishneh Torah” (Deuteronomy) was not to recount history but rather empahsize the laws of ethics and those laws that will be relevant once Am Yisrael settles the Land.

Abrabanel (1437-1508) agrees with Ramba"n. He stresses that unlike the earlier Torah books, Deuteronomy is Moshe’s farewell address. His purpose, therefore, is not retelling history but exhortation which is aimed at stirring the people to ethical awareness before his death. The echoing of past events such as the spies, the Golden Calf, the wars with Sihon and Og is didactic. It is not used for historical reasons. Their recitation is used as ethical lessons with the goal of teaching Am Yisrael what happens when they fail to trust G-d and what blessings follow obedience. 

A number of modern Biblical scholars such as Nahum Sarna, Daniel J. Elazar, Jeffrey Tigay and others frame Deuteronomy as closer to a “Covenantal Constitution,” a book of law, a fundamental charter for Yisrael’s political, social and religious life (and other Biblically rooted constitutional traditions) rather than a historical chronicle. In other words, they believe that Deuteronomy’s narrative is often just the framework for moral and covenantal teaching. 

Dear readers, at this point, a little confession is begging to be made. When I sat down to write this essay, the titular name was not my intended topic. The decision to approach the issue, from the angle that was introduced above, ripened when I delved deeper into the text of the last two parashot, Ki Teize and Ki Tavo, successively, beyond the mere desire to refresh my memory of the text.

On the surface, the names of these two parashot suggest that Ki Tavo (“When you enter the Land….”) should logically and chronologically come before parashat Ki Teitze (“When you go out to war…”) since one would assume that Am Yisrael must first “enter” the Land before they need to “go out to war” to defend it.

It was then that I decided to embark on the ride which produced this essay. Evidently, the sequence of these two parashot has engaged the attention of Biblical commentators.

Many of them suggest that the Torah deliberately places Ki Teize before Ki Tavo. They base it on the fact that since Ki Teize is a mitzvah-packed parashah, it was necessary to list them before Am Yisrael settles in the Land.

Rabbi Obadia Sforno (1475-1550), for instance, notes that Am Yisrael would have to face battle immediately upon entry to the Land, both defensive and offensive. The laws of war, as mentioned in Ki Teize, would be needed before the “settling rituals” of Ki Tavo. He further asserts that Ki Teize is a natural continuation from Parashat Shoftim, where the Torah describes how judges and officers must guide Yisrael’s conduct in war.

Ohr Ha'Chayim has an interesting commentary about parashat Ki Teize. According to him, the battle is not just military but a lifelong war against the yetzer hara (evil inclination).Only after the inner ethical and spiritual struggles are addressed can the people truly “enter the Land” in a covenantal sense.

Rash”i and Ramba”n point out that, in Deuteronomy, Moshe is re-telling events selectively and not necessarily in a chronological order. His emphasis is on ethical lessons, not pure history.

Midrash Tanchuma also stresses that Deuteronomy’s repeated phrasing (“Take heed,” “Remember,” “Do not forget”) shows the priority of ethics and faithfulness over historical facts.

Earlier Torah books (Genesis-Numbers), as we have learned, contain a lot of narrative: the patriarch, the Exodus, the wilderness journeys with laws interwoven into the story. Deuteronomy, on the other hand, retells history intermittently and uses it mainly as a teaching tool for forming an ethical and just society under G-d’s sovereignty. Whereas the Tetrateuch focuses on what happened in the past, Deuteronomy has its eyes on the future and emphasizes what should be done. Shabbat Shalom

Cities of Refuge

“You shall designate cities for yourselves; they shall be Cities of Refuge for you, and a murderer who killed a person unintentionally shall flee there” Bamidbar  (Numbers) 35:11

As Am Yisrael is about to enter the Promised Land, Moshe is instructed to designate six “cities of refuge,” three on each side of the Jordan river, to which anyone who accidentally kills a person can escape.  The purpose of such cities is to provide refuge, where the killer will be safe from being killed by a blood relative of the dead.

 

The vengeance of blood (or blood revenge) was a central concept in justice systems across the Ancient Near East. It refers to the right or duty of a family member to avenge the killing of a relative—usually through killing the murderer. This practice shaped legal codes, tribal customs, and religious thought in many ancient cultures. 

The Code of Hammurabi (18th century BCE), for instance, includes provisions for blood vengeance. In case someone kills another, the victim’s family could put that person to death. Retribution, in this Code, was based on lex talionis, “an eye for an eye.” Blood vengeance was also present in Hittite, Ugarit and Canaanite as well as in the ancient Hebrew laws.

However, as Lord Rabbi Sacks explains, in early societies, where blood vengeance was practiced, “there was a concern that people would take the law into their own hands,” which “would begin a cycle of vengeance and retaliation,” where, “one revenge-killing leading to another and another, until the community had been decimated.” 

In order to prevent unjust violence, it was, therefore, important to distinguish between murder, a deliberate killing and manslaughter, unintentional death. 

Over time, Ancient Near Eastern Societies, such as those mentioned above, moved toward a centralized legal system which distinguished between these two forms of killings. It gradually restricted blood vengeance as well as allowing kings and temples to assume more authority in criminal justice. Additionally, legal codes ( e.g.,Hammurabi, Mosaic law) attempted to channel vengeance through regulated procedures or sanctuary laws and permitted compensation in the form of monetary payment in place of blood revenge. 

While the notion of sanctuary or places of refuge which are one of the themes in this week’s Parasha, Masei, also existed in Mesopotamian societies, these were mostly confined to religious sites. The formalized, legalistic system of the Mosaic Cities of Refuge, though, is a distinct development. They did not have solely religious and legal importance; they also had moral and symbolic significance. 

Firstly, these cities did not only provide protection from vengeance, mostly for the accidental killer from the blood avenger who could seek retribution. They also prevented further bloodshed and more killings. 

Secondly, legally, the Mosaic concept provided due process. Although the main purpose of cities of refuge was to protect the accidental killer, in practice, murderers who killed intentionally went there as well (Talmud, Makkot 9b and 12a). Upon arriving in the City of Refuge, the court sent messengers to escort that person while, also, acting as his bodyguards and bring him in for a hearing. If the judges decreed that the murder was intentional, the verdict would be accordingly. However, if the judges ruled that his act of killing was unintentional, the messengers would accompany him back to the city of refuge for a mandatory stay. So long as the killers remained within the city limits, they were protected by law. They had to remain there until the death of the High Priest.

The mandatory stay in the City of Refuge is aimed at teaching a symbolic and spiritual lesson. The symbolic exile to a City of Refuge suggests a form of penance and moral reflection. It is aimed to tell us that even unintentional death is serious and requires atonement and rehabilitation. According to Ramba”n, it is a means to carry out Divine justice.Taking a life, he suggests, whether intentional or not, upsets the moral balance of the world.

The spirtual lesson relates to the revered status of the High Priest who represented the collective soul of the People. His death, which provided communal atonement and allowed the killer to leave the city, stressed the High Priest’s spiritual role for the nation. 

Midrash takes the importance of the role of the City of Refuge even one step higher. It explicitly compares the City of Refuge to Torah. “Just as the Cities of Refuge save lives, so, too, does Torah.”Midrash Tanhuma Buber (Appendix to Va’Etchanan,4).  In other words, just as someone, who accidentally killed someone, could find safety in a City of Refuge, engaging with Torah provides spiritual refuge, protection and healing.

It is noteworthy to mention that to ensure the clear and open access to justice, Talmud stresses the importance of precise and well marked signage to cities of refuge. “The roads to the Cities of Refuge were to be well-maintained and signposted….” (Makkot, 9b-10a). Likewise, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Rotzeach u’Shmirat Nefesh (law of Murder and Protection of Life) where Ramba”m codifies the laws of the cities of refuge, he writes: “The court must prepare and repair the roads leading to the Cities of Refuge…They must build bridges, remove obstacles, and post signs: ‘Miklat (refuge)! Miklat!’ so that no one errs on the way. (Hilchot Rotzeach 8:5).

The sanctity of life is of utmost importance in the Torah and Jewish tradition. The Cities of Refuge reflect this value. They highlight the Torah’s underlying view of justice, combining accountability, compassion and restorative principles. They offer a deeply humane approach to dealing with bloodshed, tragedy, moral responsibility, spiritual growth and societal healing.

Metzora - The Importance of Introspection

 

      “We are souls dressed up in sacred biochemical garments and our bodies are the instruments through which our souls play.” – Albert Einstein

 

Last week’s Torah portions, Tazria and Metzora continue to address the laws of purity which began in Shemini. In Tazria, G-d instructs Moshe about the rituals of purification for mothers following childbirth.

The second parashah (Torah portion), Metzora, focuses on the laws of tzara’at which, according to our sages, is mistakenly translated as leprosy. “It is not a physical disease,” asserts Rabbi David Rosenfeld, of Aish, “…. it can appear on innate objects like clothing and buildings which is something physical diseases can’t do. Rather,” he continues, “tzara’at is a spiritual malady.” The parashah goes on to address the laws concerning the atonement and treatment of the condition, the healing process by the High Priest and the sacrifices which the afflicted person has to offer to G-d.

The notion that tzara’at is a spiritual condition rather than physical is also proposed by Rabbi David Agmon. According to him, were tzara’at a somatic malady, it would follow that it should be named after the doctor that is sent to heal the sick person. Instead, the parashah describes the ailments that are diagnosed and treated by the High Priest through the process of purification. “What does it tell us about the spiritual attribute of leprosy?” asks Rabbi Agmon.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, ZT”L, likewise, suggests that the Rabbis “moralized the condition of tzara’at.” According to them, it was a punishment rather than a medical condition and not for any sin but for one specific sin, that of leshon hara, evil speech. This interpretation, explains Sacks, “was based on the internal evidence in the Torah itself.” The first is described in Exodus 4:6-7 where Moshe’s hand became leprous after expressing doubt the readiness of the Yisraelites to believe him. The second incident is mentioned in Numbers 12:1-15 where Miriam was struck by leprosy after denigrating Moshe.

Though tzara’at may possibly be a type of skin infection, our sages claim that it is wreaked as a Divine message and not by natural means. They explain that the term “metzora” is an acronym for “motzi leshon hara” a person who speaks disparagingly about others (Babylonian Talmud, Erkin15:1).

 The Torah does not provide a clear directive against leshon hara, evil speech, it strictly prohibits gossip, “You shall not go about spreading gossip among your people” (Leviticus 19:16). Leshon hara, is considered one of the worst transgressions of all. Maimonides, one of our greatest sages, construes it as “There is a far greater sin that falls under this prohibition [of gossip]. It is ‘the evil tongue,’ which refers to whoever speaks derogatorily of his fellow, even though he speaks the truth.” (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Deot 7:2). Evil speech, claim our sages, kills three people – the one who says it, the one who accepts it, and the one about whom it is said. (Hilchot Deot 7:3). Nothing keeps us farthest from G-d than leshon hara, contends Ohr HaChaim (Rabbi Chaim ben Attar).

A close examination of the laws of tzara’at, its consequences and the peculiar purification process by the High Priest, as described in the parashah, reinforces the spiritual significance of the syndrome.

One of the consequences of having tzara’at requires that the contaminated individual is commanded to separate himself from the community and stay outside the camp by himself, “leave your home, go beyond the city limits and just sit alone with no one to talk to!” (Leviticus 13:46).

To an innocent bystander, this directive may seem harsh considering that the source of this ailment is spiritual, a form of punishment for sinful conduct rather than physical or contagious.

And this is the great lesson that our Rabbis wish to teach us. According to them, the process of isolation, which is consequential to leaving the camp, is meant to bring us to reflection, introspection and repentance.

Our body is our guide, our Scriptures teach us, the guide to our inner self. In the words of Job, “….in my flesh I will see G-d” (Job 19:26). Our body is the channel through which the Divine message is passed on to us. It is, as Einstein expressed in the above quote, “the instrument through which our souls play.” If part of us is impure, it tends to manifest itself physically to allow us to treat, mend and heal. Our first instinct, generally, is to blame outside factors for our ailments. The Torah instructs us to examine ourselves, search our inner self, not look at others or blame them. This is essential to commence our healing process. Remedy of the soul is the root of physical health.

Just as the Metzora cannot be part of his camp so long as he is diseased, so cannot those who sin against their fellow men and women be part of our society. Only after they wake up, amend their ways and heal can they embark on the path towards a healthy and fulfilling life for themselves and our society.