Izzy owned a small deli in Stamford Hill, in London. One day, a tax inspector knocked on his door and questioned him about his recent tax return. Izzy had reported a net profit of $250.000 for the year and he wanted to know all about it. "It’s like this," said Izzy. "I work like a maniac all year round and all of my family helps me out whenever they can. My deli is closed only five days a year. That’s how I made $250,000."
"It's not your income that bothers us," said the taxman. "It's the business travel deductions of $80,000 that worries us. You entered on the tax return that you and your wife made 28 business trips to Israel, Italy, Switzerland, France, the US, Hawaii, and the Caribbean Islands. What are all these business trips about?"
"Oh," said Izzy, smiling. "I forgot to tell you that we also deliver!"
It is a simple verse in this week’s Torah portion Achrei-Kedoshim, but it came to represent an extraordinary truth about Judaism.
You shall observe My statutes and My ordinances and live by them. I am the Lord.
As the Talmud puts it: “You shall live by them—and not die by them.”
The significance of this cannot be underestimated. For many religions, to this very day, G-d equals a fascination and obsession with death. Islamists killers blow themselves up and declare G-d is great! G-d, for them, is found in death. To die a martyr while killing infidels is a sacred goal.
But this is not new. Egyptian civilization was steeped in death. Its bible was the Book of the Dead, and its greatest monuments, its very symbols, the pyramids, were gigantic tombs. One of the Torah’s first tasks was to destroy the connection between civilization, religion, and death. Judaism has always affirmed belief in an afterlife. The soul never dies. But the preoccupation of Judaism has been making this world a better place.
But there is more.
This verse, “and he shall live by them,” is one of seven biblical verses that the Talmud cites as proof that one may violate the Shabbat to save a life.
If a mitzvah might cause death, even if there is the slightest chance it may, G-d does not want the mitzvah. This is the rule in Jewish law: We must violate every mitzvah in order to save a life.
To appreciate the significance of this, the Chatam Sofer, presents a marvelous interpretation to another verse in Exodus, that saving a life overrides Shabbat.
The context of this verse is somewhat strange. G-d tells Moses that he has conferred upon Bezalel the prowess and wisdom to be able to construct the Sanctuary, and right after that it says,
And you, speak to the children of Israel and say: 'Only keep My Sabbaths! For it is a sign between Me and you for your generations, to know that I, the Lord, make you holy.
What’s the juxtaposition between the two topics? How is it through the Shabbat we get to know that we are holy?
The Chatam Sofer offers this insight.
What was the greatest project ever undertaken? No question, it was the building of the cosmos. After all, that is the mother of any other project, big or small, undertaken by man or by nature.
Our observable universe is a sphere around 92 billion light-years. The human body alone contains some 100 trillion cells. Within each cell is a nucleus. Within each nucleus is a double copy of the human genome.
The greatest miracle of all time, without any close seconds, is the universe. It is the miracle of all miracles.
And yet, the Torah teaches there is something even greater than the universe.
What?
At the beginning of Genesis, the Torah devotes 31 verses to describe how G-d created the entire world. In striking contrast, the Torah devotes 371 verses to describe how the Jews created the Tabernacle, or Mishkan, in the desert!
This seems profoundly strange. The universe spans some 176 Trillion Billion miles and is an awesomely complex structure. After millennia of research, we have not yet scratched the surface of its untold depth and unbound mysteries. We have not even mastered the secrets embedded in a single cell. The Tabernacle, on the other hand, was around 150 feet long and 75 feet wide and was an impressive structure, but essentially a small tent.
Why would the Torah be so expansive about the creation of a humble albeit splendorous tent in the desert and yet so terse about the creation of the cosmos with all of its infinite depth, majesty, and grandeur? Does it make sense?
The answer is that the universe is the home G-d makes for man. While the Sanctuary is the home man makes for G-d. it may be smaller and simpler, but still more significant and prominent.
And yet, there is something even greater than the Sanctuary. What is that?
The Shabbat! Even to construct the Sanctuary, we may not desecrate the Shabbat. The sanctity and preciousness of Shabbat trump the Sanctuary, which trumps the universe. This tells us something about the infinite greatness of Shabbat. For even the Sanctuary, which serves a G-d home on earth, is not as holy as Shabbat—the day of “rest,” which transcends the entire creation, the entire universe, even G-d’s “home” in our world. Shabbat is a day of intimacy with the Divine beyond the world, with G-d Himself.
But wait, there is something even holier than Shabbat! And for that, even Shabbat itself needs to be shattered and destroyed.
What is that? The Jewish person. The Shabbat must be violated to save a life. Even if there exists only one percent chance that life might be saved by violating the Shabbat, and to just prolong life by a few minutes, all the laws of Shabbat must be broken. For the sanctity of life trumps even the sanctity of Shabbat, which trumps even the sanctity of the Temple, which trumps the very act of creation—the origin of all existence.
This, says the Chatam Sofer, is the meaning of the words “Shema Yisrael Hashem…” Shema consists of three letters, which are the acronym of “Shabbat, Mikdash, Olam.”
The Shabbat, the Temple, and the world. These are in descending order the three most precious items of existence.
And yet above all three of them is Yisrael—the Jew himself! For the Jew is literally one with G-d in His very essence, Yisrael is part of “Hashem Elokanu Hashem Echad.”
This, then, is the meaning of the verse:
“And you, speak to the children of Israel and say: 'Only keep My Sabbaths! For it is a sign between Me and you for your generations, to know that I, the Lord, make you holy.” This verse teaches us that Shabbat trumps the construction of the Sanctuary.
A family in Israel had a teenage son struck with a terminal illness. This was a learned yeshiva student whose youth was robbed by this devastating illness. The end seemed very near, and the boy had shut everyone out of what was left of his life. He lay there with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling, in deep despair. He knew and understood what was occurring. The doctors were concealing nothing from him. He had given up hope and lay there waiting to die. All that his parents wanted was a simple conversation, to talk to him, to say goodbye. He was their child, and they loved him. Why should his last moments be spent alone?
They asked a well-known Rabbi, Ezriel Tauber, to visit him and try to infuse their son with "life," albeit it temporarily.
Arriving at the hospital room, Rabbi Tauber was not prepared for what he saw. As much as he had attempted to envision the boy, he was ill-prepared for the image which confronted him. The boy was a mass of skin and bones, his face contorted in agony, his eyes staring out into space. Next to his bed sat his mother, whose tear-stained face told the entire story. Amidst her weeping, she would whisper to her son, "Do you need anything?” There was no response - just staring.
Rabbi Tauber turned to the boy and quietly said, "Shalom Aleichem." No response—only continued staring. Again, Rabbi Tauber said, "Shalom Aleichem." Same response, nothing. This continued two more times until, finally, Rabbi Tauber said, "I came quite a distance to see you. It was not easy. The least you could do is answer me." Suddenly, he saw a glimmer of movement from the boy's eyes. It was not much of a response, but it was certainly much more than he had been receiving earlier.
"Let me ask you a question," Rabbi Tauber began. "You are a yeshivah student, and I am sure that you have studied Talmud and Jewish law. Perhaps you can clarify some law for me." If a thief approaches a Jew and demands that he hand over all of his money unless he transgresses a prohibition of the Torah. Say if he eats pork, he can keep his money. If not, he wants all the money. If the Jew can’t escape or fight off the gangster, what should he do?"
Slowly the boy's lips began to move, as he forced himself to speak. "He gives up his money, but no mitzvah of the Torah may be transgressed."
The rabbi continued: "Perhaps this applies only to one who either does not have much to lose or who lives alone and has no one other than himself to support. Let us look at the example of a wealthy man who supports a multitude of organizations and people. In fact, hundreds of families rely on him for sustenance. Will this ruling still apply? Should he be forced to relinquish all of his funds, thereby jeopardizing the livelihood of many people, rather than transgress a prohibition of the Torah?"
"Yes," the boy replied emphatically. "The ruling is in place regardless of the consequences. A Torah law may not be transgressed even if it costs one all the money. Your relationship to G-d is priceless; it is worth more than all the money."
The Rabbi continues: "What would be the law if, rather than having one's wealth threatened, it was his life that hung in the balance? Say the gangster says, I will kill you if you do not eat pork?”
"In such a case, human life takes precedence. Under no circumstances may one's life be put in danger (except for the three cardinal sins of murder, idolatry, and adultery). G-d wants us to live through the mitzvot, not die through them," was the boy's response.
"Let us say that in this instance, it does not involve merely one person transgressing a sin, but that of many Jews. Say, to save a life, an entire city of Jews needs to violate Shabbat. Will the law safeguarding human life still prevail?" asked Rabbi Tauber.
The boy responded, "It holds true under all conditions. Human life is sacrosanct. It takes precedence over all prohibitions."
The boy was getting into it he was appreciating the challenge. "For instance, if the Shabbat desecration was a surety, but the chance of saving life was, at best, doubtful, will life still prevail?" asked Rabbi Tauber.
"Yes," said the boy. "Even the slightest doubt that affects human life renders it more important than any prohibition," he replied.
"Tell me, my young scholar," Rabbi Tauber continued, "What is the law in a situation where someone lies deathly ill; indeed, there is no hope for him to live more than a very short time. How about for him, are we to desecrate Shabbat just that his life be extended, for a few hours?"
The boy was no fool. He smiled. He got the message.
If I own 40 billion dollars I must be ready to give it all up so as not to violate Shabbat! Shabbat trumps 40 billion. And yet to extend life for a few minutes, I have to give up all of Shabbat! What does this tell us? That life is G-d's greatest gift, and every moment is holy beyond holy, transcending every other holiness. One must desecrate Shabbat to keep the patient alive—even for a short time. We may not fathom the significance of life, yet the entire Torah is pushed aside to save a moment of life.
Rabbi Tauber bent down and kissed the boy on his forehead. As he parted from him, he said: "It is no secret that you are undergoing indescribable pain. I am so sorry. I will never understand why. But do not give up. The flow of life that still courses through your veins is something of infinite value. No human mind can fathom how special and precious it is. G-d is willing to have His holy Shabbat desecrated even for the slightest chance, albeit doubtful, of sustaining life. As long as you are alive, embrace that gift with love."
The boy gave a weak smile. The rabbi went on his way.
A few days later, the boy passed from this world. When Rabbi Tauber visited the family during the shivah, the mother told him, "From the time that you spoke with my son, until the bitter end, he was a different person. He was no longer just lying there waiting for the Angel of Death, to come and take him. He spoke; we spoke; he communicated. We said goodbye.” The mother could not thank him enough for what he has done.
On September 15, 1991, Fred Chernowski visited the Rebbe. His dilemma: his father was 84 years old, with dying brain cells, and immobile. He craved to go to shul and be part of the community but was home-ridden. His father was depressed and downtrodden. What could he do for his father?
The Rebbe said something very powerful.
Explain to your father, that every single Jew has a mission from G-d, which he fulfilled through doing a mitzvah. When a Jew does a mitzvah in this world, he is fulfilling the G-d mission and he is, so to speak, doing a favor to G-d. Tell your father that every mitzvah he performs is a gift he is giving to G-d. How can he give up such a mission and opportunity?
Even bestowing upon him all the good things in the world does not match up to this awesome truth that he can, right now in his present situation, do a favor for G-d. And how? By putting on tefillin, by giving charity, or any good deed you make this world a better place.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky
Jason Bennett wrote...