Fallon,Nevada made the headlines this week with an unfortunate car accident east of the city. With no cause as yet determined, the horrible wreckage yielded a fatality and a serious injury. How are we to deal with such a terrible accident? Is it just another unfathomable act of G-d? Or are we to hold the driver responsible for the deaths of those people? Was it criminal negligence for a man of his age and condition to be driving at all?
Of course, these are questions for the court to answer. But the bigger question is this: In cases of manslaughter where criminal negligence is determined to be the cause of death, what is the appropriate punishment? What does Jewish law have to say on this matter?
In this week’s parsha, the Torah presents an innovative way to deal with this tough issue. We are introduced to the concept of cities of refuge: “G-d spoke to Moshe, telling him to speak to the Jews and say to them, ‘Now that you are crossing the Jordan into the land of Canaan, you must designate towns which shall serve you as refuge cities to which a murderer, who killed a person accidentally, can flee’” (Bamidbar 35:9-11).
The Torah is not talking about someone who kills purely by accident; such a person is obviously free of any responsibility. What we are talking about here is someone who caused a death through negligence. The Talmud’s classic case is a woodchopper who uses an axe with a loose blade. That is criminal negligence, and if that blade flies off and kills someone, the woodchopper must go into exile, i.e., he must move to one of the designated cities of refuge.
How long is he stuck there? Surprisingly, there is no set term. It depends how long the high priest lives: “[The killer] must live there until the death of the high priest anointed with the sacred oil” (35:25). This seems to point to the fact that it is impossible for us to determine the exact degree of accountability. Only G-d knows how negligent the killer was and only G-d knows how long he should be confined to the city of refuge. His term is therefore linked to the lifetime of the high priest, a length of time that is determined solely by G-d.
The Talmud tells us how this law worked to the advantage of the unintentional killers. They would receive regular care packages from the high priest’s nervous mother. She wanted to ensure that they were enjoying their life in exile, in the hope that they would not pray for the death of her precious son, the high priest.
This is strange. Why would anyone worry about the prayers of such people? We are talking here about people who were found guilty of criminal negligence. How effective could their prayers possibly be? Does G-d listen when a criminal prays for the death of an innocent?
The Talmud tells us that, in fact, the high priest is not altogether innocent. On some level he is held responsible for the deadly accident. As a leader of the people, it his duty to protect them with his prayers. Had he been praying for their welfare with the intensity expected of a high priest, tragic accidents would never occur. Although we might react skeptically to such a radical statement, that’s only because we fail to appreciate the potential power of the high priest’s prayers.
This is a wonderful example of G-d’s extraordinary justice. We are taught that G-d deals with us measure for measure, that is, His reward and punishment always corresponds directly and appropriately with our actions. The high priest is taken to task for being negligent with his responsibility to pray. He should have been praying for the safety of the Jews. So G-d sets up a situation where now we have Jews who are praying for his demise. Poetic justice indeed.
Our earlier question, however, still remains unanswered. It may be true that the high priest could have helped prevent the accident with his prayers, but what are the prayers of criminals worth?
It’s understandable that G-d would listen to the prayers of the high priest, but criminals? Why would G-d pay attention to them at all? Why should the high priest’s mother waste her money on care packages?
Based on this question, the Alter from Kelm (Rabbi Simcha Zissel Ziv, 1824 – 1898) confirms a fundamental truth about prayer. It is not who you are or what you have done that determines the impact of your prayers. The impact of your prayers is determined by the strength of your faith. These criminals know that the death of the high priest is their only way out of exile. The reality of their predicament is very clear: It’s up to G-d. G-d will decide when the high priest will die. When you know that only G-d can help, that creates a prayer with real potency.
Today, whether we are high priests or even mere criminals, we must pray for the welfare of our brothers and sisters in Israel. The more we realize that their salvation is entirely in the Hands of G-d, the more influential our prayers will be.
