Rav Shira Shazeer
This week has been a challenging one, starting with the news that the Framingham public schools had cancelled outdoor recess due to concerns of EEE, and coming to the conclusion that we at MWJDS would have to follow suit. Needless to say students are disappointed at not being allowed to play outside, and as a staff, many of us secretly, or not so secretly, feel the same. We wondered if we could find creative ways to get some outdoor time in the safest way, and started to look at how we can enhance the experience of indoor recess. It would be dishonest to pretend that I haven’t had a wave or two of mild dread of the extended time stuck inside when I was expecting the last weeks of beautiful, not too hot, not too cold weather before winter. It would also be dishonest to pretend that I had not taken a few trips down the path of wondering, “How much do we have to worry about this virus? What are the chances that someone would actually get it? Is it worth being cooped up inside?”
So, as I was rereading the parsha this week, parshat Ki Teitzei, one verse in particular caught my attention. Deuteronomy 22:8 reads, “????? ???????? ??????? ??????? ??????????? ???????? ?????????? ??????????????? ???????? ??????????? ????????????? ????????? ???????????, When you build a new house, you shall make a parapet for your roof, so that you do not bring liability for blood on your house in case a falling person should fall from it.” Parshat Ki Teitzei, is full of this kind of scenario, situations that may not be very likely, but for which the Torah provides guidance as they will certainly happen at some point in the Jewish people’s time living as a sovereign people in the land of Israel.
We could look at the verse about a building a parapet on the roof and scoff at it as overly cautious. Who is going to fall off of my roof? Why would they be there in the first place? How would they have gotten there? What are the chances that once someone is up there, that they will fall off? And based on that probability, the Torah is insisting that I put up a rail?
I started looking more closely at this verse and found that in classical rabbinic literature, two streams of explanation emerge around this verse. One stream takes the verse and uses it as a model for other situations in which a person’s actions or property could put others at risk of injury or death. Not only roofs need parapets, but pits, and dangerous animals need to be reliably contained or not kept in homes.
The other stream of explanation stems from the reasoning given in the verse, “in case a falling person should fall from it.” Because the Hebrew phrasing calls the person a “falling person” before they actually fall, this reasoning goes, it must be that the person was fated to fall to begin with and would have fallen to their death (or serious injury) regardless of the fencing or lack thereof on the roof. The reason to build the parapet is so that the owner of the roof is not responsible, not liable for the freak accident that was going to happen to the unfortunate victim anyway.
These two approaches reflect the dilemma we face each time we have to decide how to respond to an unlikely but potentially serious danger. Do we see it as our responsibility to do everything in our power to avoid the danger, or do we acknowledge that terrible things are sometimes beyond our control and then go about our lives? Each situation is different and I would not propose to answer a question like this conclusively for all situations and all people.
I would, though, bring to the fore a few more unique or creative responses I found to this verse. The Sefer Chasidim tells the story of a man who had two wetnurses living in his house who had a dispute between them. A wise person asked the man, “why do you foster this dispute in your house?” He answered, “If the two got along, maybe they would team up and decide to rob me. This way if one sees the other doing something wrong, she’ll come tell me.” The wise person responded, “This verse, which says, “do not bring liability for blood on your house” is about you. You are causing a situation where maybe one wetnurse will kill the child of the other, and you will be responsible. It will be as if you did it.”
Another comment, from the Mussar book, Shnei Luchot Habrit says of the parapet, “The allegorical meaning of making such a railing may be that one has to set limits to one’s pride. The roof is the highest point of the house, and symbolizes pride; the railing represents a restriction on one’s pride.”
When I consider our situation, here in our community, and more specifically in my own house, I think the dread that periodically washes over me stems from the fear that keeping children, who need physical activity and fresh air, in close quarters with one another (and who am I kidding, in close quarters with me!) will lead to the kind of conflict described in the Sefer Chasidim. That cautionary tale, which emphasizes the necessary precaution we should practice, not only in cases of physical danger, but also for trying social-emotional situations, paired with the wisdom of the Sheni Luchot Habrit, seeing the railing as reigning in our pride, show a path forward.
We will survive the coming weeks or months of mosquito danger until the frost comes. We will do it with careful planning, and creative thinking, and by the practice of setting limits to our own pride, while valuing the feelings of others, fostering kindness, and prioritizing finding paths to physical release and social emotional health.
May we all be strong and courageous,
Shabbat Shalom.