In Jewish law, if you just stand by, you aren’t innocent

“Only Shevet Levi, you should not count… among Bnei Yisrael.” (Bamidbar 1:49)

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hy was Shevet Levi not counted here, when Moshe took a census of all men? During the tragic event of the Golden Calf, when so many of their fellow Jews served the idol, the tribe of Levi was stalwart in its opposition. The Midrash states since they made themselves close to Hashem, Hashem singled them out, choosing them to serve Him.

Yet, the Chiddushei HaRim asks, not everyone served this idol — only around three thousand people did. Why, then, was only Shevet Levi singled out for Hashem’s service? Why not anyone who refrained from serving the Eigel? (Rabbi YY Jacobson, TheYeshiva.net)

The main swimming pool in our city is located down a long, steep hill at the end of Nowheresville. There’s no public transportation there, so people without cars have to decide to either hoof it or to taxi. So whenever I go, I try to offer rides to anyone who lives nearby.

The answer is simple and profoundly relevant. Shevet Levi did much more than passively not serve the idol. In the aftermath of the Eigel, Moshe cried out, “Who is for G-d? Let them gather to me!” The only collective group who responded was Shevet Levi.

Many Jews may have refrained from worshipping the Golden Calf. They were ready to do the right thing, but they were not ready to stand up and fight for the right thing. Only those who protested against the heinous crimes of the Eigel were chosen as the ambassadors of Hashem.

In Western society, there’s a concept called an “innocent bystander.” In Jewish law, if you just stand by, you aren’t innocent. In American society, you’re guilty for doing “something.” In Jewish law, you’re guilty for doing nothing.

The Torah states: “Do not stand idle by your brother’s blood” (Vayikra 19:16). Remaining passive or neutral isn’t an option.

One freezing, sleeting day, I had a packed car; no one had jumped at the opportunity to start mountain climbing in such weather. I was concentrating on driving in the howling wind and hail when suddenly, Bracha, sitting in the back row of the van, called out that she’d like to get off.

Surprised, I pulled over to the side of the road. Bracha lived near me and was usually the last to get off. Besides, we were on a service road between two neighborhoods; there wasn’t a store or a building around. Why did she want to get out here, in the pouring rain? As I pulled back into traffic, I was more puzzled to see her pull her coat tighter as she started to walk… in the same direction I was driving.

When ordinary moral people lose the courage or willingness to protest within their society, morality is dead. This is true concerning every crisis — physical or spiritual — that faces our people and communities today. When good people do not speak out, we allow innocent people to suffer. We must profess the courage to speak up. Silence, in the face of a tragedy, is a crime all its own.

Until this very day, the descendants of Shevet Levi contain a unique holiness and status because of a single event that transpired over 3,000 years ago. There are occasions in life when the clarion call goes out to rally around the banner of Torah, of justice, morality, goodness and holiness. If upon hearing that call, one rises to the occasion, his actions can have ramifications until the end of time. If one fails to heed the call to respond, that too can affect him and all his future generations.

The next week, I noticed Bracha leave just a couple of minutes before I did. And the week after. So, the following week I made sure to catch her and offer her a ride. She paused, seemingly uncomfortable.

“I prefer to walk to the bus stop.” Seeing that I looked as confused as I felt, she added, “I’m not always so comfortable with the discussions the women are having in the back seat. I’ve tried, but they don’t seem to want to change the conversation.”

I was floored. I’m not generally comfortable with loud protests and rallies. Yet I was awed every time I remembered the image of Bracha in my rearview mirror, struggling to walk against the wind.

 (Originally featured in Family First, Issue 795)