The halachah of oso v’es b’no lo sischatu b’yom echad, “You shall not slaughter a mother (ox or sheep) and its offspring on the same day,” applies to kosher, domesticated animals, such as cows, sheep, and goats, and it refers to both the mother and its child. Chazal (Yoma 64A) discuss a situation in which the shliach bais din, agent of bais din, who performs the se’ir l’azazel, rite in which he pushes the goat over a cliff, is permitted to slaughter the mother that day (although it was Yom Kippur, for it was necessary for a critically ill person). Chazal rule that it does apply because pushing it off the cliff is effectively the goat’s shechitah. The question now is: Does this halachah apply equally to eglah arufah, the axed heifer? Chazal (Chullin 82B) debate the issue, questioning whether areifah, axing the calf, is viewed as a shechitah. The consensus of opinion is that areifah and the dechiyah, pushing over the cliff, of the se’ir l’azazel both fall under the rubric of oso v’es b’no.
In his L’Frakim, Horav Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, zl, cites Rabbeinu Tam in his Sefer HaYashar (63) who distinguishes between the goat of Yom Kippur, which is killed as a medium to atone for Klal Yisrael’s transgressions, and the axed heifer, who atones for the act of murder. He writes, “Although the axing of the heifer purifies it from becoming a neveilah, unclean/unslaughtered carcass (which is tamei, ritually unclean), nonetheless, it cannot be compared to the dechiyas se’ir l’azazel, which effectively is like shechitas kodoshim.” Rav Weinberg explains that the goat that is sent to azazel is considered as a korban, sacrifice, in the same vein as other korbanos. Thus, its death is viewed halachically as shechitah. (Indeed, two goats, perfectly identical – one being selected as a korban, the other thrown off the cliff – have the exact same status: korban.) The eglah, heifer, is not a korban. The Torah commands that, as a form of punishment for the act of murder that was committed, the heifer takes the place of the murderer who should be punished. Thus, atonement is achieved for Klal Yisrael. Areifah is not shechitah; it is an act of killing, taking the life of the heifer, instead of the murderer, whose identity is unknown.
To explain this further; Bais Din declares, “We are not guilty for this man’s (the victim’s) death. We accompanied him out of the city. We did not ignore him when he was here.” They are basically saying, “We had nothing whatsoever to do with this tragedy. It is all on the murderer’s head. This heifer will ‘stand in for the murderer.’ It is clearly not a korban. Axing it however, does bring atonement for the community. The Yom Kippur goat represents the collective sins of Klal Yisrael. It is a communal offering, and it plays the same role.
The Rishonim teach that the heifer played another role in its death. Some say worms would leave the carcass of the heifer and make their way to the murderer’s home. Chazal debate whether the worms serve as the identifier or as executioner, actually killing the murderer. Clearly, the heifer is not a korban.
As an aside, commentators give a number of reasons for the implication that, had the victim been treated appropriately, welcomed into their midst, this tragedy would not have occurred. (Obviously, it happened despite everyone’s good intentions. The Heavenly decree supersedes everything.)
Horav Meir Shapiro, zl, offers a novel, insightful explanation. I take the liberty of expanding on it and presenting it in my own words. The greatest human necessities include food, wealth, and comfort. What we need most to thrive, however, is relevance, a sense of significance. One must feel that he matters, that he has value and worthiness. When a community welcomes a person warmly into its midst, when people rise to greet him, inquire concerning his welfare and are willing to spend time with him, they are doing much more than acting courteous. They are restoring his sense of self. This message is conveyed with every smile, every word, every minute of time expended: “You are important. Your life has meaning.” Such affirmation elevates a person, imbuing him with dignity (which, for some people, is as vital as oxygen), confidence and (especially) the courage to rise up and endure life’s challenges.
Sadly, the converse is equally true. When a person is ignored, when no one notices his presence or values his contribution, a terrible loneliness begins to envelop him. He gradually loses his own sense of worth. Feeling insignificant in the eyes of others, he eventually becomes insignificant in his own eyes as well.
A distinguished psychologist once observed that many victims who failed to resist violent attack were not physically incapable of defending themselves. Rather, emotionally they had already surrendered long before the assault occurred. One who feels his life possesses little value often lacks the inner resolve to defend it. Thus, when an assailant confronts him, he may submit passively, feeling subconsciously that he is not worth saving.
How careful we must be with the feelings of another Jew. A warm greeting, a few moments of sincere attention, or a small act of inclusion may appear insignificant in our eyes, but, to another person, it can restore an entire world. Batei Din emphasize that we make a point of addressing his needs and welfare. Our hands did not shed the innocent blood of the deceased, and we did not play a role in his tragic end.
It all boils down to thoughtfulness. Most people are nice and would never intentionally hurt anyone. When one’s mind is preoccupied (usually with himself), however, he seems to forget about others. For a Jew, the “others” should be his priority. After all, Hashem did not place him on this world for “himself.”
A simple smile can change a life positively, and, likewise, negative trajectories can occur because someone was ignored or made to feel irrelevant. We have no dearth of stories that underscore this. The following is a classic.
Why would Horav Elchonon Wasserman, zl, Rosh Yeshivas Baranovich, and leader of European Jewry, occupy himself with a layman to discuss the most effective way to heat a house in the winter, while ignoring a talmid who wanted to discuss a penetrating shiur? The story took place shortly after Horav Dovid HaKohen Rappaport, zl (Mikdash Dovid), became senior maggid shiur in Baranovich. His shiur was unlike anything the bachurim had heard before. It was a new approach toward understanding the sugya, topic, in the Gemora’s analytics. A student who had just attended the shiur made his way to the Rosh Yeshivah to relate and discuss some of the finer points of the shiur. At the time, Rav Elchanan was in a conversation with one of the yeshivah’s lay supporters concerning the most effective way to heat a house. Overwhelmed with excitement, the talmid interrupted the Rosh Yeshivah. Rav Elchanan looked at him and said, “Not now. I am meeting with Reb ‘Ploni.’ The student was taken aback, but no one argued with the Rosh Yeshivah. Shortly thereafter, Rav Elchanan summoned the talmid to discuss the shiur. He explained, “To discuss such a profound shiur in front of that layman would have been disrespectful to him. It was clearly above him, and it would have made him feel bad.” Rav Elchanan was not just a gadol in lomdus; he was also a gadol in middos.
