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 this 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.
Concerning the fate of the Ben Sorer Umoreh, the Torah says, “V’chol Yisrael yishme’u v’yira’u” (21:21),” that an announcement must be made that all should hear that he was put to death and all should fear the consequences of copying his actions. We have the same requirement of publicity in three other cases in the Torah: with respect to eidim zomemim, conspiring witnesses, with respect to a zaken mamreh, a judge who deliberately decides a case against the precedents handed down by the Sanhedrin, and with respect to a meisis, one who incites others to serve idols.
Common to all these three transgressions is that no action has been taken by the perpetrator, only words have been spoken. The eidim zomemim did not kill anyone, they just uttered false words of testimony. Similarly, the zaken mamreh only issued a decision and the meisis only enticed his followers with words. Each could plead, “Divrei harav vedivrei hatalmid, lemi shomim – why did you listen to me when you know that G-d has forbidden it?” With respect to the Ben Sorer Umoreh, people might think that such a thing would never happen. After all, which parents would ever squeal on their child and turn him in to the authorities for capital punishment? It is to make sure that the severity of these transgressions is understood and not taken lightly that the Torah requires that the sentence carried out by Beit Din must be made public.
On the one hand, the sentence is to be publicized, but on the other hand the publicity should be tempered. That is why the body of the condemned perpetrator should not remain on the gallows overnight (21:22), because it is an affront to G-d to publicize that anyone had the audacity to ignore His commandments. The same theme is repeated at the end of the parsha when we read about Amalek. “Asher karcha baderech” (25:18) – one of the unforgivable things about Amalek was that they set a precedent. Before them, nobody dared attack the Jews for fear that they would suffer the consequences that befell the Egyptians and the other nations who started up with the Jews. But Amalek broke the ice and showed everyone that there was nothing to fear (see Rashi to 25:18). Such an act of defiance should never be forgotten and like the four transgressions mentioned above, the consequences of such defiance must be publicized.
But there is a fine line between publication, on the one hand, and displaying a failure of G-d’s experiment with the creation of man, on the other hand. After all, we do not want to vindicate the argument of the angels who at the creation of the world cautioned G-d that man is destined to sin and it would be better not to create him. G-d answered that the risk of the violation of a lo ta’aseh, a negative commandment, was worth it because without man, there would be no one to fulfill the aseh’s, the positive commandments. G-d’s response was in the spirit of aseh docheh lo ta’aseh – a positive commandment takes precedence over negative commandment.
“Lo Tireh es shor achichah oh es sei’o nidachim vehisalamta meihem, hasheiv tesheveim leachichah (22:1) – if you see your brother’s ox or sheep going astray, do not look away. You must help and carry them back to him.” The words “vehisalamta meihem” seem out of place. Should it not have said “v’lo tisaleim meihem,” you should not ignore them, rather then 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, lifnim meshurat hadin, 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 hasheiv teshiveim.
“Ki yikoreh kan tzipor (22:6) – if you come across a birds nest, chase the mother away before taking the chicks.” 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 inevitable that you would. 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. This encounter was not serendipitous; it was destined to happen so that you should amend your ways. 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 prayer of “Eilu devarim she’adam ochel peiroseihem beolam hazeh,” 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 (ma’akeh) around your roof lest, “Ki yipol hanofel” (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 or postponing that meeting with the Malach Hamaves. If that is the case, why must one bother installing a ma’akeh? The accident is destined to happen anyway.
The answer is that one should not volunteer to be G-d’s executioner. It is one thing if you did everything in your power to prevent the accident, then you are absolved and bear no responsibility for the preordained accident. You have to be a zakai, even if the victim was a chayav.
It is similar to 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 Akivah was apprehended by the Romans, he met Pappas who was arrested too and thrown into the same jail. He also had been apprehended by the Romans for some meaningless offenses he 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 Akivah got there by teaching Torah and Pappas got their too by wasting his life on meaningless things.
If you turn the word ma’akeh around you get the word “amukah” which means preordained. It was Yosef being sent to Emek Hebron to meet his brothers that triggered the first phase of the descent into slavery in Egypt. Rashi tells us that Emek Hebron does not mean the valley of Hebron because Hebron was a mountainous region. Emek means “amok,” deep and preordained. It was preordained already from the time of the Bris Bein Habesarim: “Me’eitzah amukah shel oso hatzadik hakavur be’Hebron” (Rashi to Bereishis 37:15), that the Jews would descend into slavery in Egypt and the story of Yosef was the first step along that inevitable road.
