Bein Adam LeChaveiro: Me First
In last week’s discussion, Rabbanit Dr. Adina Sternberg questioned the extent of any halakhic parental obligation to support their children. She noted that after age six, some rabbinic authorities consider such support to be a form of tzedakah (charity), whereas others seem to rely on the parents’ natural instinct to support their children, as an extension of themselves. Just as there is no specific obligation to feed, clothe, and house oneself, so too there is no specific obligation for one’s children.
In the past, we noted that the Torah bases our general obligation to care for others on the expectation that we care for ourselves. “v’ahavta l’reiakha kamokha,” “Love others as yourself.”[1] Ibn Ezra explains the verse ends with the phrase “I am the Eternal,” to teach us that we should love what is good for others as we love what is good for ourselves, because “I am the one God who created all of you.”
According to Ibn Ezra it seems that the mitzvah to love others as ourselves is meant to counteract our tendency towards self-absorption by reminding us that we are just as special as everyone else is and God loves us all equally. Ramban, on the other hand, thinks we are supposed to be self absorbed. He believes the mitzvah is hyperbolic; loving someone as much as we love ourselves is not only impossible, at times we are commanded to put ourselves first. As a proof he cites Rabbi Akiva’s opinion in a beraita in Bava Metzia:
“Two people are traveling, one is holding a canteen of water. If they both drink from it – they both die. If one of them drinks from it – he reaches a settled area (that has water). Ben Petura expounded: “It’s better for both to drink and die, so they don’t see one another’s death. Until Rabbi Akiva came and taught: ‘Your sibling shall live with you,’ your life takes precedence over your fellow’s life.”[2]
According to Rabbi Akiva’s opinion, if someone on a journey only has enough water to ensure their own safe passage, they should not share any with their travel companion. A person must put themselves first based on the principle “chayekha kodmim l’chayei chaveirkha,” “your life takes precedence over your fellow’s life.” Interestingly, Ben Petura’s reasoning to share the canteen is also based on an inherently selfish argument – to spare oneself from the trauma and survivor’s guilt of witnessing their companion’s death.
Just as an act that seems selfless may be somewhat selfish, so too a selfish act may be motivated by concern for another. The modern equivalent of Rabbi Akiva’s directive seems to be the flight attendant’s instruction: “Put on your own oxygen mask first, before helping others.”
When the brain is deprived of oxygen people think and act slower and eventually lose consciousness; their ability to help others decreases until it stops altogether. But if they put on their own oxygen mask they can work faster and more efficiently, ultimately doing more longterm good than they would have by prioritizing others in the short term. According to this explanation, there is no inherent justification for prioritizing one’s own needs, it is only permitted because it is generally more beneficial to humankind.
Rabbi Shimon ben Menasya employed a similar principle to explain why pikuakh nefesh (preserving life) overrides Shabbat observance. “Desecrate one Shabbat for this person, so that they may observe many Shabbatot.”[3] This reasoning does not weigh the mitzvah of Shabbat observance against the value of human life, but rather the mitzvah of observing the present, individual Shabbat is weighed against potential future Shabbat observance. If we prioritize observing one Shabbat over saving a person’s life, they will never observe another Shabbat. Better to desecrate this Shabbat, so they can fulfill the mitzvah of Shabbat many times over.[4]
Is there a blanket mitzvah to prioritize our own life over the lives of others? Or is it only justified in certain situations, such as when I can keep more mitzvot and help more people?
When doesn’t “your life take precedence?”
Rabbi Shimon ben Menasya’s explanation does not consider the value of human life, but solely focuses on the value of mitzvah observance. The gemara does not explicitly dismiss his opinion, as it does with others, but it seems to prefer Shmuel’s explanation of why preserving life overrides Shabbat observance. Based on the Torah verse: “You shall observe my statutes and laws, that a person shall do and live by them,” Shmuel taught: “‘You shall live by them’ and not die by them.”[5]
Shmuel links the value of mitzvah observance to the value of human life. He doesn’t seem to prioritize one over the other, but rather sees them as complementary. Mitzvot enhance life, they do not diminish it. Therefore pikuakh nefesh (preserving life) overrides all mitzvot in the Torah – except for avoda zara (foreign/pagan worship), gilui arayot (forbidden sexual relations), and shfikhut damim (murder, bloodshed).[6]
If mitzvot are meant to enhance life, how can there be exceptions?
The gemara in Sanhedrin explains that there’s a logical reason we are not allowed to murder to save a life:
“Like that man who came before Rabba and said to him, ‘The county governor said to me: Go kill so-and-so, and if you don’t, I’ll kill you.’ [Rabba] said to him, ‘[It is preferable that] he should kill you, and you should not kill. Who is to say that your blood is redder? Maybe the blood of the other person is redder?’”[7]
According to the gemara, the reason we can’t kill another to save our own life is that we don’t know “whose blood is redder,” which seems to mean “whose life is more valuable.” How does this explain why we’re forbidden to kill someone else to save our own life?
Meiri explains that the Torah permits us to transgress to save a life; it does not permit transgressing when it does not save a life. In the case before Rabba someone dies no matter what; the same amount of life is lost, so one is not permitted to murder.
Meiri’s explanation is slightly problematic. It doesn’t explain the gemara’s curious language of “who is to say that your blood is redder?” It also raises the possibility that one should commit murder if they’re told “kill him or I kill both of you,” as there is a net salvation of one life.[8]
Rashi provides a slightly different answer, based on Shmuel’s assertion: “You shall live by them (the mitzvot) and not die by them.”[9] Why doesn’t this apply here? Rashi explains:
“Who knows if your blood is more beloved and pleasant to your Creator than that of your fellow, therefore [the argument] ‘you shall live by them, and not die by them’ is irrelevant here, for the Torah only permitted [transgressing to save lives] because of the lives of Israel are beloved by the Holy One, blessed be He, and since another loses their life in this case, the royal edict can’t override the commandment [prohibiting] murder.”
According to Rashi, Shmuel teaches that preserving life overrides most mitzvot because God loves us and values our lives, seemingly above mitzvah observance. But if life will be lost in either case and we don’t know “whose blood is redder” and more beloved, there is no justification to override the mitzvah. Rashi later adds that killing another involves two ills – the loss of a life and the sin of killing; allowing oneself to be killed only has the one ill – loss of life.
Arukh l’Neir explains that without Rashi’s addition, the gemara’s explanation of “whose blood is redder” is insufficient. Without Rashi, someone who has to choose between their life and another could argue they are more “makpid” (stringent) on Rabbi Akiva’s earlier principle “your life takes precedence over that of your fellow.” Therefore, Rashi adds his equation – both options result in a loss of life, but the individual is only a murderer in one of them.
Why is this additional reason necessary?
Physical and spiritual wellbeing
Earlier in Sanhedrin the gemara permits killing in self-defense: “One who rises to kill you, rise first to kill them.”[10] In the same vein, the gemara instructs us to use any means necessary to stop a rodef (pursuer), a person pursuing another with intent to kill or sexually assault. In other words, we are permitted to kill to save a life if our target is the attacker and we can’t find another way to save their intended victim.[11]
Why prohibit killing a third party to save our own lives and permit killing a rodef to save a third party?
It would seem that we do not have the tools to determine “whose blood is redder” in the first case. But in the case of a rodef the situation speaks for itself – the potential victim’s blood is considered “redder” than that of the rodef.
The mishna uses a strange phrase to teach the law of rodef: “Eilu hein she’mitzilin otan b’nafshan,” “These are the ones who are saved with their lives.” The mishna can be read in two ways – the life of the intended victim is saved by taking the life of the rodef, or the soul or self of the rodef is saved by killing them before they irreparably harm another. The former focuses on the value of the physical life of the intended victim over that of the rodef, seemingly determining “whose blood is redder.” The latter focuses on the rodef, and values their spiritual wellbeing over their physical life.[12]
These halakhot walk a fine line, balancing between the important value of prioritizing our own physical wellbeing and maintaining our spiritual wellbeing. On one hand, halakha mandates that we take care of our needs before those of others, and put on our oxygen mask first. On the other hand, halakha forbids us from harming others to take care of our needs. We can’t take someone else’s oxygen so we have enough for ourselves.[13]
Prioritizing mitzvah observance
Hillel the Elder asked: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I?”[14] There is no simple answer. Balancing between our physical and spiritual obligations to ourselves and to others is a lifelong endeavor.
This idea is reflected in the laws of tzedakah, charity. Shulkhan Arukh teaches that charity starts at home, and that money given to support one’s grown children so they can focus on their Torah observance, or one’s parents and other family members is considered tzedakah. Furthermore, he adds that we should prioritize our family and those closest to us:
“And even if they are not one’s child or parent, but a relative, one must prioritize them over other people… the poor of one’s household have priority over the poor in one’s city, and the poor in one’s city have priority over the poor in another city, and residents of the land of Israel have priority over residents outside of Israel.”[15]
Rema adds:
“One’s own livelihood takes precedence above all others, and one is not obligated to give charity until they have their own sustenance. And then they should prioritize supporting their father and mother if they are poor, and they take precedence over supporting one’s children…”[16]
Is the concept that “one’s livelihood takes precedence” based on a commandment to prioritize our own wellbeing? If so, is it possible Rema sees the instruction to prioritize charity to those closest to ourselves as a natural expansion of this principle to include our collective selves – our family and our community? If so, the prioritization may be based on a practical concern, similar to Hillel the Elder’s reasoning: If I am not for my family, who will be for my family? Why should we expect someone else to care if we don’t?
Perhaps the inverse is true as well. Perhaps this reflects an understanding that part of who I am – my identity, my “self” – is inexorably tied to my family and my community.
Some people are inclined to put their own needs and interests before those of others. The Torah teaches them to look beyond themselves and see all people as created in God’s image, and reach beyond themselves to show love and care to those around them. Some people tend to do the opposite, to put others before themselves (and sometimes their families). The Torah teaches these people to see themselves as one of God’s creations, to be generous towards themselves as well.
[1] Vayikra 19:18; Rabbi Akiva in Sifra “This is a major general guideline in the Torah.”
[2] TB Bava Metzia 62a quoting the verse in Vayikra 25:36.
[3] Tb Yoma 85b
[4] This principle is applied in general, not on an individual level. Even if an individual will not be observing Shabbat in the future, for whatever reason, we desecrate Shabbat to save them because there are some people who will observe more Shabbatot if their lives are saved on Shabbat.
[5] Tb Yoma 85b quoting Vayikra 18:5.
[6] TB Sanhedrin 94a. In the ensuing discussion the gemara defines these terms more exactly, and also adds the prohibition of chillul Hashem, desecration of God’s name.
[7] TB Yoma 82b; Sanhedrin 94a.
[8] This is slightly reminiscent of the philosophical “trolley problem.” Is there a point where one may actively murder an innocent person to save others?
[9] Vayikra 18:5
[10] Sanhedrin 72a-73a. The gemara permits murdering an attempted murderer and rapist, in certain cases, when there is no other way to save the intended victim.
[11] Mishneh Torah Hilkhot Rotzeah v’Shmirat Nefesh 1:6-16. Rambam explains that it is a transgression not to try and save the intended victim, even if the only way to do so is to kill the attacker.
[12] This mishna seems to continue the topic of the rebellious son (ben sorer u’moreh) that begins the chapter. The rabbis teach that he is executed for relatively minor crimes to save his soul before he inevitably escalates and commits murder.
[13] The exception to these rules is the person who breaks them, the rodef. This may be related to our previous discussion of Rambam’s opinion that the mitzvot teach each person how to realize and enhance the image of God in which they were created by imitating God in thought and action. The rodef is about to end another’s life, the physical aspect of the Divine image; in the process they harm their own soul, the spiritual aspect of the Divine image. It seems that their intention has degraded their soul to the point it is clear “whose blood is redder.”
Nevertheless, one is only permitted to use lethal force when it is the only way they can save the intended victim. In such circumstances, the savior is enhancing the Divine image in this world – by using their moral reasoning to distinguish between wrong and right – attacker and victim, their intellect to assess the means necessary to save the victim, and their body to have mercy on the innocent and save them from the guilty.
God created all animals with certain instincts for self-preservation. Only humans were created in the image of God, endowed with the intellect and ability to choose to override these basic instincts. Since all people are created in the Divine image, all lives are valuable, and we must treat everyone with respect and dignity, including ourselves. We are not permitted to do things that diminish the image of God in our physical bodies or those of others, nor may we harm the metaphysical aspects of the image of God in our minds and souls.
[14] Mishna Avot 1:14
[15] Shulchan Arukh Yoreh De’ah 251:3
[16] Rema ibid
