This Shabbat, Parshat Kedoshim, begins the week we commemorate Remembrance Day and Independence Day. In the weekly Torah portion, God commands, “Do not stand upon the blood of your neighbor; I am the Lord” (19:16). The Talmud Bavli (Sanhedrin 73a) expounds: “From where [do we learn] that if one sees his fellow drowning in a river, or a wild animal dragging him, or robbers attacking him, that he must save him? The Torah states, ‘Do not stand upon the blood of your neighbor.’” In other words, we must endanger our own lives to save another Jew in mortal danger.
Rambam, in the Laws of Murder and the Preservation of Life (1:14), broadens the scope of this commandment to encompass financial expenditure to save one’s friend. He also mentions rescuing a person from a wicked scheme:
Anyone who can save and does not violate the principle of not standing idly by the blood of one’s neighbor. Likewise, if one sees a neighbor drowning in the sea, attackers coming upon them, or a wild animal threatening them, and can save them alone or by hiring others to do so but does not, or if one hears rumors of a plot against a neighbor but does not warn them; or if one knows of a dispute and can mediate but chooses not to do so; and in any similar case, one transgresses the commandment of not standing idly by the blood of their neighbor.
The medieval authorities considered the level of danger that required the rescuer to place oneself in harm’s way to save a friend. The Talmud Yerushalmi goes so far as to assert that one should enter a possible danger to save another person. The Kesef Mishneh (commenting on the aforementioned Rambam) explains that the logic for the Talmud Yerushalmi is likely that while one’s friend is in definite danger, the rescuer is in uncertain danger.
The halakhic requirement to endanger ourselves for the sake of others raises the question: Why should a person risk their life for another? Why does the Torah expect this of us?
Rashbam explains the directive “Do not stand” to mean, “Do not stand as an onlooker.” In other words, the Torah commands us to cultivate a natural tendency not to turn a blind eye to injustice, danger, or problematic situations confronting others. A Jew cannot stand idly by when another Jew is in distress.
This charge is already evident in the actions of our nation’s founder. Abraham could not remain indifferent when his nephew Lot was captured. Instead, he ventured out with a limited number of warriors to combat the formidable four kings, risking himself to save Lot and the people of Sodom. Abraham could not tolerate the moral injustice of the four kings subjugating peaceful nations.
We find a similar trait of intolerance toward injustice among other biblical heroes. Jacob arrives at Haran and rebukes the shepherds for wasting their time not tending to the flock until all the shepherds gather. Moses steps out of the palace, endangering himself and risking his political standing, and he slays the Egyptian, harming a Jew, and intervenes between the two quarreling Hebrews. The idea of self-sacrifice for others is deeply rooted in our people due to the bonds that tie us together. As the Talmud puts it (Sanhedrin 27b), “If one person falls, the other should help his fellow – this means that everyone bears responsibility for one another.”
Contemplating mutual responsibility
Remembrance Day for soldiers, security forces, and victims of terror is a particularly painful day for bereaved families and for each and every one of us. This year, perhaps more than any, owing to the events of October 7, that pain has become a tangible part of our lives. Our mutual responsibility demands that we do not stand idly by the blood of our neighbor – that we do not stand by in the face of the reality that our sons and daughters are still held captive in Gaza and that we not stand idly by the blood of our neighbor by insufficiently honoring the memory of the fallen. We dare not stand aside and permit division among our people. It is forbidden for us to enable their blood to have been spilled needlessly; we must instead ensure that we are worthy of their sacrifices and those of their families.
The suffering that has befallen the people of Israel since Simchat Torah calls for introspection. The midrash (Yalkut Shimoni Tehillim 680) expounds on the verse, “May the Lord answer you on a day of distress,” which seems puzzling. Why does the Lord only answer on a day of distress, after the trouble has befallen? Why doesn’t He prevent the distress from occurring in the first place?
The midrash answers with a parable:
To what can the matter be compared? It is like a father and son who are on a journey. The son became weary and asked his father, “Father, where is the country?” His father said to him, “My son, this shall be your sign: if you see a cemetery laid out before you, then the country is near.” Similarly, the prophet tells Israel that if you see troubles looming over you, you will be redeemed immediately, as it states, “May the Lord answer you on a day of distress.”
The father and son symbolize the biological connection and the partnership between the two generations traversing the path. The son, who represents the new generation, grows weary of the prolonged journey and asks his father, “Where is the country? When will we finally know that we have arrived so we may rest?” The father does not respond directly but gives his son a sign: “If you see a cemetery, the country is near.”
This midrash contains a profound message that is deeply relevant to our times. The cemetery symbolizes the fact that there are people who are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Under these conditions, “the country is near.” Our country, the State of Israel, has a cemetery before it that contains graves of our sons and daughters who have sacrificed themselves so that the country can remain close to us. The proximity between the cemetery and the country signifies a bond between the two that must not be severed. There is no country without a cemetery, and there are no graves without a country. At the same time, the cemetery must be somewhat distant from the city; thus, Bava Batra 2:9 teaches that “one should distance... the graves from the city fifty cubits.” But even as life must inexorably carry on, we are committed to perpetuating and building the country while keeping our memories front of mind, deepening our understanding of the price others have paid and the price we continue to pay. The people of our country owe their lives to the cemetery and are committed to fulfilling the dreams of the fallen.
On the upcoming Independence Day, it is essential for us to deeply contemplate the concept of mutual responsibility for all facets of Israeli society. Does our entire society understand what mutual responsibility is and what it demands from each and every one of us? It seems to me that the answer to this is not a simple yes and that certain segments of society will need to engage in introspection. Mutual responsibility is not confined to religious devotion; that is part of the concept but not its entirety. The directive of “Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor” calls upon us to take physical risks for the sake of others. At the same time, mutual responsibility is not just a blood covenant but also a spiritual covenant that is interwoven with the blood covenant. Only when these two covenants unite will redemption come.
This year, more than any other, we must recommit ourselves to both dimensions of the demand for mutual responsibility. In this way, we may yet merit the reward promised by the rabbis: “If you see troubles looming over you, you will be redeemed immediately, as it states, ‘May the Lord answer you on a day of distress.’”