Woe to the Neighbor: How Far the Shared Wall Must Go

Chulin - Daf 128

Our Gemara discusses a series of technical halachos regarding a house that becomes leprous. The basic story as delineated in Vayikra (14:33-53) is that if a certain lesion, as determined by the kohen, manifests itself on a house, the affected stones are removed and replaced with non-infected, “healthy” stones. If the lesions continue to manifest after that, the entire house is destroyed.

In our Gemara, the concern of a shared wall and/or stones is discussed, and here is where it gets interesting. If you have two houses that are attached and there is a brick or stone that has the lesion on it, the entire brick or stone is removed, even if that means that the adjacent attached house loses part of its wall. On the other hand, if the house reaches a point where it has to be demolished, the stone can be cut and the part that belongs to the leprous house is destroyed, but the other part is allowed to remain.

What does this teach us symbolically? On the one hand, we have the phenomenon of “Oy la-rasha, oy la-sh’cheno”– Woe to the evil person and woe to his neighbor (Sukkah 56b). To a degree, we are responsible for the actions of our neighbors inasmuch as we should rebuke and protest against immoral behavior. Additionally, we might be held responsible for choosing to live next to someone of poor character. However, there is a limit to our liability. We might have to take a little pain – if their house develops lesions and bricks have to be removed, then if we are their neighbor, our house will bear some of that damage. But if the person’s misbehavior is so persistent that the entire house has to be destroyed, we do not get pulled down with him, and his wall remains, even to the extent that we cut the stone in half.

This is reminiscent of a powerful Kli Yakar (Shemos 23:5) who cites the rabbinic inference from the verse about helping someone’s beast that is collapsing under the burden. The verse states “You shall surely help with him.” The Rabbis deduce that the obligation exists only if the owner joins in. However, if the owner is for some reason negligent and sitting on the sidelines, expecting you to do the work, then you are exempt. Kli Yakar expands this idea beyond this particular mitzvah and relates it to other similar acts of chesed. In particular, in consonance with modern-day experiences, he rebukes certain impoverished people who refuse to work and help themselves, yet feel entitled to beg for money. He says that in such a case, because they do not help themselves, there is no obligation to help them.

Of course, it is difficult to make judgments, and everyone has to be careful about this because the mitzvah of tzedakah is sacred. It might appear that the person is lazy or indulgent, but there may be more complexity to the story such as depression or addiction. Nevertheless, it is important to know that this idea exists, and if one does see convincing evidence that the person is not sufficiently helping himself, Kli Yakar rules that there is no further obligation.

Here too, this might be the explanation regarding the different laws of the leprous house. If the person is so self-destructive as to continue stubbornly in his immoral ways, to the point that the entire house must be demolished, the neighbor no longer has to bear the problem; his wall remains intact.

Recycling Is for People Who Have 1.5 Children and a Dog

Daf 129

Our Gemara on amud beis discusses the status of a severed human limb, which, when whole, transmits impurity similar to that of a corpse. There is a discussion among poskim about whether there is an obligation to bury such a limb, and these questions do have relevance in halacha, such as when someone needs an amputation or suffers an accident in which a limb is severed. The conclusion of the majority of poskim is that there is no technical requirement for burial; however, since the limb still evokes a high level of impurity that would be forbidden for a kohen to encounter, it should be buried so as to keep it out of the way. Others add a more general requirement to show honor to the human body. So while burial is not an absolute requirement, it is the appropriate and respectful thing to do. (See Tzitz Eliezer 10:5:8, Noda b’Yehuda YD II:209, and Igros Moshe YD III:141.)

It is profound and important to note what we hold sacred and what we revere. Ultimately, even a body part of a living person is treated with dignity. We treat many living things with dignity. Aside from the basic Biblical injunctions against cutting down a fruit tree, there are additional customs that consider it to be gravely spiritually dangerous to cut down a fruit tree, even under circumstances where it is technically permitted. We are forbidden to crossbreed species so as not to disrespect the natural order, and Ramban holds that the prohibition of slaughtering the mother animal and her offspring on the same day is a psychological placeholder and a reminder not to consume meat with abandon to the point of causing extinction (Devarim 22:6). Even regarding food, there are detailed laws about being careful not to disrespect it (see Shulchan Aruch OC 171:4–5). What a culture chooses to revere says much about its own self-respect.

In the modern world, there is much virtue-signaling purporting to care about animals, the environment, and human rights. Yet when the tough moral decisions need to be made, often there is hypocrisy and moral laziness. Almost 1,000,000 abortions are performed every year in this country, a small percentage of which are due to pressing medical needs. Even the original Roe v. Wade decision was based on the idea that the fetus was not viable. With our current medical technology, fetuses as young as five or six months can survive. There are few abortion-rights proponents who bother to make this distinction. No problem – let’s worry about the “genocide” in Gaza and ignore the genocide of viable fetuses. The halachic sensitivities and respect for living creatures and the environment are the real thing and not some fake, hypocritical stance.

I’ll conclude with a funny anecdote. Years ago, while attending a family function, I overheard a dialogue between two relatives, one of whom had chosen a left-wing Modern Orthodox lifestyle and the other who had chosen a right-wing yeshiva lifestyle. As the modern relative noticed the yeshivish sibling dumping all the garbage into big bags, the person snidely commented, “Oh, so in your neighborhood they don’t recycle?” The yeshivish relative replied, “Recycling is for people who have 1.5 children and a dog.”

While this was a little nasty, there is truth to that reply. The modern relative indeed had only two children, and the other had thirteen. The reality is that the secular world sees it as virtuous to have fewer children and not have such a huge carbon footprint. But that’s nonsense. People are the most important resource, and that is not what one conserves in order to save the environment. There are plenty of meaningful and humble ways to use G-d’s world respectfully and not wastefully. True, not everybody is cut out to raise such a large family and do it well, and that certainly is a reasonable consideration. However, it has nothing to do with the virtue of conservation, and no one should act all holy about it.