W

hen the town leaders took responsibility for a dead body found in a field they sent out a message that we’re all accountable for the welfare of any person who crosses our path. So how can we drive recklessly endangering those around us? Can we really say “Our hands didn’t spill this blood”?

For me it’s something that never loses its shock value: how the death toll onIsrael’s roads has surpassed the number of people killed by Palestinian terrorists. The most shocking part is that the latest victims of the road intifada weren’t sent to the Heavenly realms by human error on their part but by crimes of negligence. It’s horrifying to read about the circumstances of these crashes. People who obviously view the law as a joke are behind the wheel ignoring red lights speeding passing on curves and doing whatever else they please while the judges who let them off perpetrate the worst crime of all. Are the rights of the driver more hallowed than those of the victim left to vegetate in a hospital — that is if he’s still alive? It’s infuriating to hear about the driver with hundreds of traffic violations on his record being allowed back on the road after a mere slap on the wrist from a “kind” judge who is actually cruel. And only after he’s killed an entire family does the judge finally put the driver’s human rights aside and give him the prison sentence he deserves. And we’re not even talking about texting while driving….

I was in a taxi last week when the driver exclaimed “Look at that man in the car next to us how he’s zigzagging on the road. He’s busy texting.” I glanced out and saw all the drivers in his periphery taking extra care because a collision was almost inevitable.

The offending driver was identifiable as a chareidi by his dress and appearance. I wanted to scream at him “Aren’t you afraid of having an accident of killing someone or being killed chalilah? Did you invent some kind of new halachah that says you don’t have to abide by traffic laws? Have you got some special protection from the Almighty guaranteeing that ‘it won’t happen to me’?”

How did it come about that this devaluation of respect for the law and for simple cautionary practices overrides the value of human life? And in particular I’d like to know how this attitude has infiltrated our own community. Why are we seeing young chareidi drivers indulging in wildly irresponsible behavior on the roads?

How does the Torah treat the subject of a person found dead on the road the victim of an unknown killer? In this week’s parshah we learn that a person whoever he may be is a tzelem Elokim. He’s also a tzelem Elokim when he’s crossing the street or traveling in the car coming in your direction. It’s a passage that we’re all familiar with found at the end of parshas Shoftim the passage detailing the law of the eglah arufah (Devarim 21:1-7) the unique ritual to be performed by the elders of the city closest to the spot where the corpse was found culminating with the famous declaration “Our hands have not spilled this blood.”

Now we might well ask why must the elders go through this ritual? Of course it’s tragic to find a lone stranger murdered in a field on the outskirts of one’s city but what’s the problem? For this we have a police force whose task is to search for the guilty party. There’s a forensic department and a burial society. They step in and do what needs to be done and the ordinary law-abiding citizens needn’t take any responsibility for what happened no?

No!

That is what happens in both modern and primitive societies where the death of a human being is just another statistic. Those who were close to the deceased mourn him and then get back to their routine while for everyone else life goes on as usual. But in the truly enlightened society formed under Torah law a society that is spiritually developed a society that has high regard for human life people don’t turn their backs on another Jew left dead by the roadside and get on with their lives. It could be that the Jewish People never actually reached this spiritual level even in the days when we had our judges prophets and kings. But this is where our holy Torah sets the bar. And certainly daily life was elevated by the fact that this was the written law under which the society functioned.

So here is a Jewish city in Eretz Yisrael living under Torah law and a corpse has been found on its outskirts. The people are not permitted to tut-tut and dismiss the incident as none of their business. Something must be done to ensure that everyone feels the shock.

When you hear the Torah reading in shul this Shabbos listen to the pesukim and try to imagine how such a matter was handled in a Torah society. The elders themselves (according to the Gemara this means the members of the local Sanhedrin or the highest batei din of the region) come out to the scene of the crime and… they start taking measurements. They measure the distance from the fallen body to each of the surrounding cities to determine which city is the closest. Of course there is no certainty that the killer came from that city but nevertheless the city’s proximity to the scene of the crime implicates the entire city in a share of the guilt. No doubt the news spread quickly throughout the entire region creating a sensation and throngs of people must have come out to see the greatest Sages of the day assembled in the vacant field with measuring ropes in their hands. Surely they followed them as they took the measurements up hills and down into valleys… and surely their nerves were taut with suspense as they waited for the results to be tallied and the guilt to be assigned to the city found to be closest.

When the nearest city was identified at last it was then time for the elders of that city to take responsibility on themselves. All the elders of the city says the Gemara had to go out to a rugged valley and perform the ritual of the eglah arufah after which they could proclaim “Our hands have not spilled this blood.”

The Gemara asks the obvious question: “And did anyone think that the elders of the beis din were murderers?”

The Gemara’s answer is enough to send us on our own guilt trip: “But rather [the traveler] in our midst was not sent away without food and an escort.”

That is if it happened that the city did not see to the wayfarer’s needs supplying him with food and drink for the next stretch of his journey and also with the security of an escort then the citizens and their leaders could not declare themselves guiltless. They learned the lesson of taking responsibility even if they were the distant cause of a chain of events that led to murder to the death of one person who was but a stranger to them. The lesson was meant to teach the people that collectively and individually they were all murderers for each one of them had added a stone to the structure that eventually served as the scene of a murder.

And so we are all murderers to one extent or another. Let’s examine the following scenario: One man is driving innocently in his proper lane at the proper speed and suddenly he is overtaken by a speeding driver. The first driver is frightened at his close brush with death and furious at the other driver for nearly causing it so recklessly and as he continues on his way he is not as careful as before. Distracted by thoughts of what nearly happened and muttering angry words under his breath he might even start driving aggressively as the adrenaline streams through his system. Now he could be the cause of an accident — all because of that first reckless driver who gets off scot-free and is already home happily eating dinner blissfully unaware of the havoc he caused.

Once when a talmid told him that he’d just gotten his driver’s license Rav Ben Tzion Abba Shaul ztz”l responded “A license to kill?!”

Today cars are a necessity of life and whether or not we own one we need them. But that is just the point. No driver sees himself as a potential killer. Yet in a majority of cases the history of the driver at fault in an accident reveals a deep-seated disdain for traffic regulations and for cautious driving. Unless we take the lesson of the parshah to heart and regain our sensitivity to the tzelem Elokim in every human being our driver’s licenses might indeed become licenses to kill. —

Shoftim v’shotrim titein lecha... Lecha: first examine your own deeds and judge yourself before you judge others

(Rav Menachem Mendel of Kotzk)