Sanhedrin 72
Our Gemara discusses one of the fundamental laws of preemptive self-defense, as described in Shemos 22:1-2. In certain situations where there is a reasonable presumption that an intruder intends to use deadly force – such as a home invasion, where the thief is prepared to encounter an adversary and therefore ready to kill if necessary – one does not have to wait to be attacked and may strike preemptively. (An obvious and nearly universal legal principle, yet somehow suspended in the court of public opinion when Israel asserts its right to self-defense against terrorist enemies like Hamas.)
In Shmuel I (24), King David has an opportunity to ambush King Shaul. While his men urge him to take advantage of the element of surprise, Dovid HaMelech is reluctant to initiate violence against Hashem’s anointed. Instead, he stages a precise military operation in which they stealthily approach and cut off a corner of King Shaul’s cloak. Dovid then uses this as a warning, essentially telling Shaul, “I could have killed you, but I chose not to – so stand down.” Yet despite the fact that he restrained himself from harming Shaul, the pasuk describes how Dovid felt pangs of guilt in his heart for even this small act of insubordination against G-d’s chosen king.
Dovid HaMelech seems to be grappling with an internal conflict: On the one hand, he knows he must protect himself from Shaul’s murderous intentions. On the other hand, he still feels bound by the sanctity of the divinely ordained monarchy. The Arvei Nachal (Shlach 2:42) expands on this theme with an insight into temptation and self-awareness. He explains that Dovid HaMelech had an ethical dilemma. While self-defense is both permissible and, in some cases, obligatory, perhaps a king is different – perhaps Shaul’s authority and divine appointment grant him special immunity, even from defensive force.
How did Dovid resolve this? The Arvei Nachal offers an insightful psychological explanation. He states that the yetzer hara blinds us in the moment of desire, distorting our judgment. However, this distortion is temporary; once the deed is done and the passion is satisfied, clarity returns, often accompanied by regret or remorse. Dovid HaMelech understood this mechanism and decided to put it to the test.
Instead of outright attacking Shaul, he committed a minor act of defiance – cutting off a piece of his cloak – to see how he would feel afterward. If, after the initial surge of adrenaline had passed, he still felt justified and at peace with his actions, that would indicate he was acting out of sound moral reasoning. However, if he felt tainted, guilty, or empty, that would reveal that his judgment had been clouded by passion. This, he reasoned, would be his litmus test – and indeed, as the pesukim describe, he immediately felt regret. Even though Shaul was trying to kill him, Dovid realized that his act of disrespect toward the king was unjustified, because Shaul was still G-d’s anointed ruler.
This insight from the Arvei Nachal serves as a powerful guide for self-reflection. Often, our passions blind us to the true nature of our actions. One way to gain clarity is to take a small step forward and then assess how we feel. Once our emotions settle and our judgment is no longer clouded, do we still feel that our actions were right? If so, perhaps our decision was truly sound. If not, we may finally be seeing the truth with clear eyes.
Lost And Found: Covenant, Kindness, And The Moral Code
Sanhedrin 76
Our Gemara on amud beis considers it improper piety to return a lost object to a gentile. In other words, if the local gentile laws and moral codes do not obligate returning a lost object, it is unnecessary, and even vainly pious, to do so. As we discussed in Sanhedrin 74, Torah law is not only societal but also covenantal. Many legal systems may not consider a lost object to be the possession of the original owner, and thus fair game for anyone who finds it. However, the Torah introduces certain extra requirements that go beyond justice and focus on the covenant and relationship between man and G-d. G-d wants the Jewish people to extend particular kindness and privileges within the tribe, so to speak.
Rashi adds an important comment: “If one returns a lost object to a gentile when there is no such obligation (and the local law and moral codes deem it perfectly respectable), he is implying that he follows the laws of the Torah not out of obedience to G-d, but merely by personal choice.”
This principle is reminiscent of a similar discussion between the Rambam and Ramban regarding the commandment to send away the mother bird and the Gemara in Berachos (33b) about not praising G-d for His mercy when sending away the mother bird. Ramban (Devarim 22:6) follows the simple reading of the Gemara, which suggests, much like our Rashi, that it is presumptuous to assume that any mitzvah that appears morally sound or indicates G-d’s mercy is simply about morality. Rather, these mitzvos must be seen as commandments to be obeyed, regardless of their apparent rationality. The Rambam offers a different interpretation, but we won’t delve into his position here.
Rashi’s commentary in our Gemara and this Ramban raise ethical questions and cannot be taken at face value. Common sense indicates that many Torah laws are indeed socially and morally oriented. The verse in Devarim (4:6-8) states:
Observe them faithfully, for that will be proof of your wisdom and discernment to other peoples, who on hearing of all these laws will say, “Surely, that great nation is a wise and discerning people.” For what great nation is there that has a god so close at hand as is our G-d whenever we call? Or what great nation has laws and rules as perfect as all this Teaching that I set before you this day?
Clearly, the Torah anticipates that the gentiles will be impressed with the Torah’s laws, and they would not be impressed if those laws didn’t reflect common-sense morality and justice.
One possible answer is based on what the Rambam writes in Shemoneh Perakim (6). There are parts of the Torah that are based on common sense and morality, and parts that are commandments from G-d with less obvious reasons. While it is praiseworthy to resist sin solely because G-d commands it, that is mainly for the mitzvos whose reasons are not apparent (the chukim). For mitzvos that seem to stem from natural morality and decency (mishpatim), it is actually superior to desire to do the right thing intrinsically, rather than merely because G-d commanded it. The Rambam might not consider the commandment to return a lost object as a chok, since even if it’s not strictly a moral obligation, it is certainly understandable as a kind and decent action. However, we have also seen that returning a lost object is not necessarily a moral duty, because if something is lost, it is ownerless, and anyone who finds it is free to take it. Thus, Rashi’s point could be that the act of returning a lost object is part of the covenant, and to treat it simply as an act of moral decency undermines the uniqueness of the covenant and the relationship between G-d and Israel.
Similarly, Ramban’s understanding of the Gemara about sending away the mother bird aligns with this. While it might appear to come from a sense of mercy, it is not grounded in a particular system of justice or morality. After all, we are not vegetarians, and we do consume birds and other animals. While we have pointed out that it’s not irrational, it would not ordinarily be understood as part of a moral code. Therefore, it is part of the covenant, and the act of following the commandment honors that covenant. If this relationship is not acknowledged by observing the commandments with this intent, it disrespects the bond between G-d and Israel.
Another approach could be that neither Rashi nor Ramban (nor the Gemara in Berachos) is referring to one’s understanding of the mitzvah. Rather, they are speaking about one’s relationship and motivation toward the mitzvah. It could be presumptuous and dangerous to assume that we do a mitzvah simply because it makes sense morally. Throughout history, some values have remained constant, while others have been challenged or redefined, such as the morality of slavery. Our understanding of the Torah is that while its laws promote social functioning and moral behavior, there are deeper reasons for the commandments. The motivation for observing a commandment should not only be to learn moral behaviors (which is the function of some mitzvos, as Ramban mentions) but also to honor the relationship with G-d and to attach oneself to His will for its own sake.
If this explanation is correct, we can also understand the placement of the middle verse between the two that discuss the gentiles being impressed with the morality and wisdom of Torah law. The middle verse states: “For what great nation is there that has a god so close at hand as is our G-d whenever we call?” What is this verse doing in the middle of the passage? I believe the Torah is addressing this point. It suggests that the gentiles, aside from recognizing the wisdom and morality of the Torah, also notice that the Jewish people merit a unique providence. This providence is not just a result of moral behavior, but also comes from a relationship with G-d. The great nation that follows the commandments of G-d enjoys a closeness with Him, and G-d is always near them because they are close to Him.
This is not a point of logic, sociology, or morality, but of relationship. It transcends rationality and justice and is why G-d shows mercy to us. He is not only the judge, jury, and executioner – He is also our Father.
