Timeless Torah

At first glance one imagines the Cities of Refuge to be the neighborhood equivalent of Harlem...on a bad day. After all, who lived there? Killers! True, they were accidental murderers; nonetheless they were at least guilty of negligence, poor judgment, carelessness, and probably a lackadaisical attitude towards the sanctity of life. The facts however were much different. The bulk of the population in these urban centers was a very distinguished group of people, the Levites. Their job was truly unique. In addition to teaching the masses, they played an integral role in the killer’s rehabilitation.
Even more singular were the terms of sentence imposed on those found guilty of unwitting manslaughter. Rather than being deliberated upon by expert judges who meted out a specific amount of time, it was defined by a seemingly disconnected circumstance. Murderers were free to leave the City of Refuge only when the High Priest died. The Talmud in Makos tells us that the Kohen Gadol’s (High Priest) family was quite worried. They were concerned, not with assassination plots against the Kohen Gadol’s life, but that the convicts would pray that the High Priest die before his due time, thus releasing them early. In order to dissuade them, the mother of the Kohen Gadol distributed food and clothing to the inmates to deter them from entreating Heaven that her son dies.
Many are the questions raised in regard to this strange law. The most obvious is why the lives of these two individuals, one dedicated to serving G-d in the Temple and the other whose self-absorption led to an inadvertent death, should revolve around each other? (This issue was in fact already dealt with in an earlier Timeless Torah.) The second query (the subject of today’s article) wonders, did the prisoners themselves have no families of their own waiting for these outcasts with food and clothing to be offered upon release? And since one can assume that indeed there were, how did the pastries provided by the Kohen Gadol’s Mother bribe those exiled to prefer the city of refuge even more than freedom?
Rabbi Aryeh Levine, a.k.a. the Tzaddik of Jerusalem (d.1969) was also known as the Prisoners’ Rabbi. Every week he would visit the Jewish inmates, mostly members of the Irgun, held under British rule prior to Israel’s statehood. He became like a father to those prisoners, bringing them food, clothes and love. For years, despite sweltering heat and frigid rains, he never missed a Shabbos visit.
Once, in the midst of a Shabbos service, a very excited messenger called him out of the prison. Reb Aryeh’s daughter had become paralyzed and the doctors were helpless. His support at home was an immediate neccessity. After the Holy day, an Arab messenger was sent by the concerned inmates to inquire about the status of the young girl.
Exactly one week later, despite the enduring tragedy at home, the Rabbi went as usual to the prison. Normally, the prisoners would pledge a few coins to charity. This week the donations were of a different nature.
“I will give up a week of my life for the sake of Rabbi Levine’s daughter,” the first convict pledged. Another prisoner announced that he would give a month. Each one called up to the Torah upped the previous pledge until the last prisoner cried out, “What is our life compared to Reb Aryeh’s anguish? I will give all my remaining days for the sake of the Rabbi’s daughter.” At this unbelievable display of love and affection, Reb Aryeh broke down and wept. But even more miraculous than the sincere donations of life, was the result of such goodwill. That very Saturday night Reb Aryeh’s daughter began to move and within days was fully recovered.
The cities of refuge were not mere detention camps. They were environments in which reckless people became aware that careless actions have serious ramifications. Observing their neighbors, the Levites praying, learning, and teaching others, they saw the epitome of awareness and care for others one should develop.
The Kohen Gadol’s mother did not just distribute food. She formed a bond. In her they saw how a total stranger, despite her great esteem, would make sure that their needs in the city of refuge were cared for. This new awareness of the value of life meant they would never be able to pray for the death of anyone, even at the cost of their own freedom. In fact, they, like Reb Aryeh’s prisoners, may have offered their years for the son of the Cookie Lady.
Justice in the Torah is not vindictive. It does not punish without teaching and offering a real chance at being rehabilitated. It infuses a love for life into former careless killers, creating new attitudes and making the individual kinder, gentler, and a lot more careful.