A teaching cited by Rashi on yesterday’s Torah reading has proven a firm favourite among those who seek to prove ancient rabbinic belief in a physical deity (a subject addressed at length in Judaism Reclaimed).
While the verse intriguingly informs us that the corpse of a condemned criminal should not be left overnight on a tree because this is an affront to God, Rashi’s rabbinic parable has raised many an eyebrow through the years:
“This is comparable to two identical twin brothers. One [of them] became king, while the other was arrested for robbery and hanged. Whoever saw him [the second brother, suspended on the gallows], would say, “The king is hanging!” Therefore, the king ordered, and they removed him.”
Attention is commonly concentrated on analysing the implications of this story for how God was perceived in ancient Israel. Could the same God who revealed Himself to Israel at Sinai to a nation who “saw no image” (Devarim 4:15), now be mistaken for the hanging body of an executed criminal?
As the Sforno and Maharal to this verse both argue, the only commonality and point of comparison between humanity and God is the intellect – the human ability to examine ideas, develop concepts of good and evil and then choose freely between them. It is in this capacity alone that mankind is described as having been created in God’s image.
But to my mind this whole discussion misses the primary point and real significance of the rabbinic parable.
Rather than focusing on what this comparison means for how we perceive God, we should instead recognise its far-reaching message for how we are to view our fellow humans.
To place this teaching in its correct context we must bear in mind how condemned criminals were typically treated until fairly recently – paraded through the streets to be humiliated, spat upon, cursed and pelted with all sorts of degrading objects. The message of this verse – as taught in the rabbinic parable – is that even a person who has committed an appalling crime which warrants a death penalty must still be treated with the dignity befitting a tselem Elokim.
Societies need a criminal system. Law and order must be maintained and serious offences must of course be punished. What the Torah appears to be rejecting here is the smug triumphalism of those who celebrate the destruction of another human being whether through execution or calling to “lock them up and throw away the key”.
Even at a person’s lowest possible moment – being executed for a serious criminal offence – his special human attribute and Godly image is recognised and respected. To leave him strung up on a tree overnight would be to degrade a creature which was endowed with this special potential to develop and connect with the divine. Rather than rejoicing and looking to make an example of a criminal who has got his come-uppance we should be soberly mourning the abject failure of a fellow tselem Elokim. The tragedy of a capital sentence is reflected in a teaching of Rabbi Akiva (Sanhedrin 63b) that judges handing down a death penalty must fast for the entire day.
A further manifestation of this principle is the somewhat comical application of “loving one’s fellow as oneself” to mean “select for him a pleasant form of death” (Sanhedrin 45a). Though not the most intuitive way of fulfilling brotherly love, this law reflects the idea that has been discussed in this post: that even a condemned criminal retains his humanity and therefore must be treated with all possible respect and dignity as one created in the image of God.
As I explore in greater detail in Judaism Reclaimed, the commandment to love one’s fellow is not fulfilled simply by providing for the needs of another. That may be a simple act of anticipated reciprocity which every functioning society requires to a certain extent. Rather the religious command requires us to radically change our perspective – until we identify fully with the other as a fellow human – until their needs and feelings are as our own.
Yesterday’s parasha shows how broadly this requirement applies. Every human we come across – never mind how pathetic or wretched they may appear to us – must be identified with and dignified to the greatest extent possible. Rather than the hanging corpse prompting us to imagine God as a physical form, it instead is supposed to evoke genuine pity and tragedy that a free-choosing human, created in God’s image, has used this potential so poorly.
This message from yesterday’s reading is also a timely reminder for Elul as we examine our deeds and look to improve our religious standing ahead of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. In just a month from now we will be sat in shul listening to the Yom Kippur Haftarah – how the process of repentance and fasting requires us to “break your bread with the hungry and bring the moaning poor to your home” and “offer your soul to the hungry”. Commenting on the latter phrase, Radak highlights the fact that it is not sufficient merely to throw a few coins at the unfortunate and feel that we have fulfilled our obligation – rather we must take a genuine interest in the recipient’s plight so that he sees that the gift is being presented wholeheartedly.
The prophet’s demands are not easy to fulfil. They require us to develop a sensitivity and perspective through which we regard every human being we come across – even the condemned criminal – not as a physical body but as a mind and soul endowed with the tselem Elokim.
First posted to Facebook 27 August
2023, here.
