How to Live Long

Parshas Ki Seitzei

“When you will go out to war against your enemies and Hashem your G-d will deliver them into your hands and you will capture His captive” (Devarim 21:10). This sentence makes it clear that your victory at war is not your success, but rather a G-d-given gift. “Some fight with chariots, and some with horses, but we call on G-d” (Tehillim 20:10). It follows then that anyone we capture in war is not our captive, but “shivyo,” His captive. As such, the woman captured in war must be treated in the way G-d treats human beings, with kindness. She may not be treated as your slave and when you release her from captivity you may not sell her on to slavery.

The concession to permit relations between a prisoner of war and a Jewish soldier is not happily given by G-d. Initially steps are taken to quell the desire by changing her enticing clothes and removing her enhancing cosmetics. Furthermore, the concession is conditioned on his commitment to marry her, which, it is hoped, he may shrink from when he realizes that giving in to his urge will lead to a lifetime of responsibility, involving all of the duties a man must fulfill for his wife.

By following up with the laws concerning a man who is married to a woman whom he hates (Devarim 21:15), the Torah is prophesying that this marriage will not end well and that whenever the man looks at his wife, he will be reminded of his own weakness, will come to hate her and the marriage will eventually end in divorce.

“If you see your brother’s ox or sheep going astray, do not look away. You must help and carry them back to him (Devarim 22:1). The words, “vehisalamta meihem,” seems out of place. Should it not have said “v’lo tisaleim meihem” (you should not ignore them), rather than “you should ignore them?” And if you should ignore them, why does it say that you should return them to their owner?

Chazal tell us that there are situations where one may indeed look away. For example, a talmid chacham for whom it would be degrading to be seen carrying a lost animal, may look away. But even though he is not required to pick the animal up and carry it back to its owner, he should still go beyond the letter of the law and return the lost item. How can that be done? By following the example of Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Yossi who came across an animal that was about to go astray and instead of picking it up and returning it, they paid the owner compensation for the lost animal. They found a way to save their honor but also to fulfill the mitzvah of returning the animal to its owner.

“If you come across a bird’s nest, chase the mother away before taking the chicks” (22:6). The word “yikoreh” is sometimes written with the letter heh at the end and sometimes with the letter aleph at the end. When there is a heh at the end, it means you happened to run into something, but it was not destined to happen. When it is written with an aleph, it means that it was preordained that this meeting would take place. It was meant to happen to teach you the lesson of mercy. Perhaps you have not shown compassion to your fellow humans as much as you should. By bringing you face to face with a situation in which you are commanded to show mercy, you should draw your own conclusions. If I must show mercy to a bird, how much more so must I do so to a human being.

If you show such mercy, you will live long. We know from the list of acts of kindness that we read each morning in the berayta of “Eilu devarim” that kindness to our fellow humans leads to a long life, and we know it from this passage in the Torah too. If you show such compassion, you will not only be rewarded with a long life, but you will get to build your own house and enjoy prosperity (22:7 and 8).

“If you build a new house, you must install a guard-rail around your roof lest a fallen one falls from it” (22:8). Chazal tell us that that the words “yipol hanofel” mean that the victim was destined to fall. We know that it is already decided before one is born when and where one will die and there is no way of avoiding that meeting with the angel of death. If that is the case, why must one bother installing a fence? The accident is destined to happen anyway.

The answer is that one must lead one’s life honorably and blamelessly right up until the point of no return.

It reminds one of the story of Rabbi Akiva and Pappas Ben Yehudah. Pappus turned to Rabbi Akiva when he was teaching Torah against the edict of the Romans and asked him how he could take such a risk. When Rabbi Akiva was thrown in jail by the Romans, he met Pappas in the same cell. He also had been apprehended by the Romans for some hooliganism he had committed. They both wandered how they had ended up with the same fate. But their fate had been preordained. There was nothing they could do to avoid it. The only thing they could do was to work on themselves during their lifetimes so that by the time they met their fate, they would be worthy human beings. Rabbi Akiva got there by teaching Torah and Pappas got there by drinking too much.