There is a rather bizarre law at the end of Parshat Shoftim:1 the case of a murder victim discovered lying in a field, where no one knows what happened to him or who the perpetrator was. The Torah mandates an elaborate procedure in which the senior rabbinic judges must go out and measure which is the nearest town to where the victim was found. The distinguished elders of that town must take a calf and kill it as an atonement for the death of this innocent victim, while declaring:

“Our hands did not spill this blood, nor did our eyes see this crime.” 2

Why such a strange ceremony?

Maimonides explains that the Torah deliberately wanted the court to do something unusual to create a news item that people would talk about far and wide. If news of the murder spread, it might lead to the eventual apprehension of the murderer and subsequent justice.3

Abarbanel4 argues that by designing such an elaborate ritual the Torah intended to create an uproar. We dare not allow murder to go unnoticed; this shocking act of bloodshed must create a stir in the community. People must be outraged. G‑d forbid that the killing of innocent people should become commonplace.

The Talmud5 asks why the elders of the closest town must declare, “Our hands did not spill this blood.” Would we even imagine in our wildest nightmares that the senior rabbis were a gang of murderers?

But the Talmud explains that if the elders and city leaders had not provided food, shelter, or safe escort for the individual, they may have indirectly allowed this terrible crime to occur.

I can’t help but think about how commonplace bloodshed has become in our own society. Every week there is another shooting spree with so many innocent lives being lost to wanton carnage. Nowhere feels safe. Not our schools, malls, or public spaces.

In my own community in South Africa, violent crime, while perhaps not as bad as it once was, is still unacceptably high. For years now, the Jewish community has mobilized sophisticated security organizations to protect our shuls and schools, our public events, and our neighbourhoods, from opportunistic criminals and political extremists. The sad reality is that in the broader country murder has become commonplace. It hardly makes the headlines. This is precisely what Abarbanel meant.

Saving Spiritual Lives

And what about spiritual loss of life? What about the Jewish lives and futures that are lost every time a young person marries outside the faith or simply deems his or her Jewishness irrelevant?

Can we state with confidence that “our hands have not shed this blood?” Have we done everything in our power to stem the tide of young Jews giving up their birthright and heritage? Have we fed them, nourished them, and shared the elixir of life, our Torah way of life? Do they even know what they are giving up?

Did we give them shelter? A warm, loving home, school, or shul environment? And if they did step into shul, were they welcomed and made comfortable enough to feel that they belonged? Or were they told, “Sorry, you’re sitting in my seat.” Or, “Is this how you come dressed to shul?!”

Our son Nissen and his wife Ariella are the directors of Chabad on Campus in Cape Town.

Not long ago, a Cape Town business and community leader told us that Nissen is “the most important rabbi in the whole city!” We were quite surprised to hear this. I mean, he doesn’t even have a shul yet.

He explained: “He is fighting on the front lines of the battle against assimilation.”

How true. Who knows how many thousands of young Jews have been lost to Judaism and attracted to other movements and causes on college campuses around the world.

Indeed, a very important part of the work of our rabbis and rebbetzins on campus is feeding the students. The delicious, hot Shabbat dinners served at the Chabad House on Friday nights attract many young people and, inevitably, they are warmed, fed, and inspired spiritually as well.

I think, too, of the cultural conflicts that arise in Israel, and I wonder: Instead of fighting, wouldn’t it be a better idea to invite a family for Shabbat dinner? Surely, that would break down the barriers and reveal the truth behind the false facades and nasty caricatures that we’ve developed over the years. Wouldn’t that be a better way to bring people together and to show them that we are all human, all Jews, and all part of the same sacred people?

Let us be hospitable, physically and spiritually. Please G‑d, we will experience no more losses, and our children will come home safely.