October 21st: Beraysheet
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Back in Shoftim (Deuteronomy 16), we considered the Torah’s advice and standards for justice in the courtroom. “Tzedek, Tzedek tirdof. Justice, justice shall you pursue,” is the mitzvah to which everyone involved in the administration of justice should aspire. It is at the heart of our Tradition’s wisdom.
However, the pursuit of justice involves not only judges and attorneys. As a modern Sage says (frequently!), the police are also involved. “In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the police who investigate crime, and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders.” Do the police have a Torah connection?
One could trace the Torah’s interest in crime detection to this week’s Torah portion—though there is not much of a mystery. Brothers Cain and Abel both bring offerings to God, but only Abel’s offering is accepted. We do not know what the problem is with Cain’s offering; in fact, we do not actually know if the sacrifice is the problem. All we know is that “The Lord has respect for Abel and his offering, but, for Cain and his offering, God did not have respect. And Cain was very angry and his countenance fell.” (Genesis 4.4-5) The Tradition offers several possibilities for the nature of the problem, but that is almost not the point. The real problem is that Cain begins to project his disappointment and anger with God at his brother. God warns him in one of the most universal pieces of advice every spoken: “Why are you angry? Why is your countenance fallen? If you do well, shall you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin couches at the door. And to you shall be sin’s desire. And yet, you can rule over it.” (Genesis 4.7)
The advice fails to alter Cain’s urge, and he murders his brother Abel. What follows is an early interrogation: “The Lord said to Cain, ‘Where is Abel your brother?’ And he said, ‘I know not. What, am I my brother’s keeper?’ And God said, ‘What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood cries to Me from the ground!” (Genesis 4.9-10) Of course, with God, there are no mysteries. It is more a matter of the Lord trying to guide us humans through the vagaries of free-will—and sometimes watching us fail.
In the more human realm of solving crimes, one could look later in the Torah, in Exodus 2 where the word somehow gets out that Moses has killed an Egyptian taskmaster. “When Moses was grown, he went out to his brothers and looked on their burdens. He spied an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his brothers. He looked this way and that way, and when he saw that there was no one, he slew the Egyptian and hid him in the sand. When he went out a second day, behold, two men of the Hebrews struggled together, and Moses said to the one who did the wrong, ‘Why do you strike your fellow?’ And he said, ‘Who made you a prince and a judge over us? Do you intend to kill me, as you killed the Egyptian?’ And Moses feared, and said, ‘Certainly this thing is known.’” (Exodus 2.11-14) The Hebrews now know—and later Pharaoh. It is time for Moses to flee Egypt for Midian.
Later in the Torah, in Deuteronomy 21, we get a little closer to crime detection: “If someone slain is found lying…in the open, the identity of the slayer not being known,” the Torah seeks to assign jurisdiction—finding the closest city to the crime scene and making sure that the leaders of the city do their due diligence in investigating the crime. We do not have any advice about what we now call Forensic Science, but the Torah does seem to assume investigative techniques and insists that the authorities pursue them and figure out what happened.
Throughout all of these passages—and several more in the Torah and lots in the Talmud, the emphasis is on justice: believable witnesses and evidence and fair judgment. “Tzedek, Tzedek tirdof. Justice, justice shall you pursue.”
At every step, there is a tension between justice for the victim and justice for the accused. Crimes need to be investigated and responsibility assessed, but inexactitude of judgment is not okay with God. The Lord expects justice in every case! Hence the need for accuracy in crime detection.
Ever since Edgar Allan Poe invented the detective mystery, the genre has grown and achieved great popularity. Why are we so captivated by such tales? And, why are so many of us captivated by that sub-genre of detective mysteries that involve the clergy doubling as detectives? There is the very successful series by Harry Kemelman in which Rabbi David Small attends to his congregation and also solves crimes (Friday The Rabbi Slept Late, Saturday The Rabbi Went Hungry, etc.). Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose features Brother William of Baskerville, a monk and expert detective. Historian Edith Mary Pargeter (OBC BEM) assumed the nom de plume Ellis Peters for her series about Brother Cadfael, a retired soldier from the Crusades who “takes the cowl” as a Benedictine monk and solves mysteries in mediaeval England. Her book series was turned into a BBC/PBS series starring Derek Jacobi and stimulating the tourist trade in modern Shrewsbury, England. Speaking of the BBC and PBS, we also have The Father Brown Mysteries and Grantchester in which clergymen spend an inordinate amount of time helping the local constabulary. There is even an anthology of Jewish detective stories. Edited by Rabbi Lawrence Raphael and Joel Siegel, Modern Midrash: An Anthology of Jewish Mystery & Detective Fiction offers us many examples and challenge our minds and Jewish sensibilities.
And, in a new development, WPSU has just begun a new religious murder mystery series—spun off from a character in the Father Brown Mysteries. Sister Boniface is a nun in the 1960s who is a member of St. Vincent’s Convent in the fictional town of Great Slaughter in the Cotswolds. She attends to her religious duties and makes wine—and, by the way, has a Ph.D. in Forensic Science. Should any mysterious deaths occur, she is available to assist the local police.
What is it about the clergy and the investigation of murders? Why do so many of us love to see the interaction of religion and crime? Could it be that religion qua religion is daunting and other-worldly, while religious practitioners coming face to face with life-or-death situations makes faith somehow more pertinent?