Administration of the death penalty by beit din accomplished two very different goals: It served in a punitive capacity to punish the criminal and it also provided a deterrent against future crimes. Based on this latter “deterrent” function, the Torah proscribes hanging the bodies of severe criminals—blasphemers and idol worshippers. The public spectacle would hopefully discourage “copycat” behavior. Though the bodies are hung, they must be swiftly removed and buried by nightfall. In demanding this hurried removal and burial, the Torah provides a vague reason: Ki kilelat Elokim talu, simply translated as “a suspended body disgraces God.” Despite multiple interpretations of this phrase, Rashi cites a midrash that underscores the ignominy of a dangled body slowly decomposing. This scene would be a dishonor for God as the human body reflects Divine craftsmanship. Belittling this Divine essence is an affront to God—or a “kilelat Elokim.” To elucidate this humiliation the midrash presents a parable in which a twin brother of a monarch is hung for his crimes. Since he physically resembles the king, the disfiguration of his body is disgraceful to the king himself. As all humans represent Divine construction, any defacement of our bodies create dishonor to God.
This policy delicately balances between conflicting aims: to deter crime and to preserve human dignity. Without question, God’s honor is preserved when those who severely compromise that honor are publicly punished. Alternatively, even sinners carry a Divine essence and the despoilment of their corpses devalues “tzelem Elokim.” Consequently, the body is hung but removed and buried quickly. This specific policy about quickly burying subjects of capital punishment is part of a more general mandate about the preservation of the dignity of every human body. We bury corpses as quickly as possible to avoid any potential decomposition and defilement. Likewise, the sanctity of a dead human body must be protected by avoiding any unnecessary post-mortem activities that may deface it.
Though these values have universal application, the verse in our parsha concludes by warning us not to defile the Land of Israel that God has awarded us as an inheritance. In fact, Nachmanides claimed that delayed removal of hung bodies in the Land of Israel carries an extra or second prohibition beyond the general ban on extended hanging of bodies in any location—even outside of Israel. Without question, this special warning within Israel is based upon the sanctity of the land. Extended hanging of bodies isn’t merely disgraceful to the body and human form, but also creates a disregard for human dignity and a general carelessness about life that tarnishes the moral caliber of our experience. Though less severe than murder, the hanging of bodies is defined similarly: “Lo titamah et atmadam”—you shouldn’t pollute your land. Israel is meant to serve as the epicenter of universal welfare; murder and hanging bodies severely spoil this environment.
However, the prohibition of hanging bodies is contextualized within Israel for an additional reason. Life in Israel presents a specific dilemma regarding this prohibition. This agenda of conquering the land will inevitably dictate the elimination of pagan enemies. Bodies will be hung to signal victory and demoralize the enemy. Perhaps our own bodies will be hung by others who we interact with as part of the struggle to settle the land. It is precisely under these conditions and challenges that the universal dignity of the human condition must be stressed. In fact, during a pivotal battle with five local chiefs (described in Yehoshua chapter 10), Yehoshua routed the opposing kings, hung their bodies but insisted that the bodies be properly buried by nightfall. Hundreds of years later, a foreign community of Givonim, who had migrated to and found refuge within Israel, brutally hung the bodies of Shaul’s descendants as revenge for the injustices Shaul had displayed to their community. Dovid labored to bury these bodies and eliminate this national indignity. In a general sense, the complications surrounding the conquest of Israel create complex situations in which bodies are hung. It is particularly in this context that the Torah reinforces the disgrace of this practice. The general dilemma of hanging bodies is even more acute in Israel. Outside the Land of Israel hanging may be necessary to deter crime, but must also be curtailed to preserve human dignity. Within Israel, hanging may emerge from the complications of military battle and contested settlement but must similarly be restricted to preserve the dignity of every human being—even erstwhile opponents of our national program.
This challenge serves as a metaphor to some of the challenges facing us in the modern State of Israel. We are driven by Divine decree and historical warrant to settle and defend this land. As opposition to this historical inevitability still remains intense and hostile, we must defend ourselves and fashion a safe and secure environment. Without question, this mission carries a great cost for human dignity. Under the current, less-than-ideal conditions we find ourselves imposing regulations upon co-inhabitants to this land. These necessary measures severely limit their freedoms as well as create inconvenience to local populations who are overwhelmingly innocent of any crime. The morality of our mission and the Divine nature of our warrant shouldn’t render us callous to the curtailing of human freedoms and the compromising of the dignity of life. Too often, these concerns about freedom and dignity of “others” are adopted by those who disagree with the correctness of our mission. The term “kibush” (conquest), which opponents of Jewish settlements employ to describe our “unlicensed” and illegal presence in Greater Israel, is historically
offensive and factually inaccurate. Israel was inhabited by Jews well before others entered. More recently, these lands were recovered while protecting ourselves in a defensive war in 1967. We aren’t conquerors and have always been receptive to considering alternate arrangements if the broader Arab world would only make a final peace with the notion of a Jewish state. However, just because our settlement is righteous doesn’t exempt us from attempting to preserve human dignity in Israel. When fashioning original Man, God collected dirt from the Temple Mount. If all humanity originates in Jerusalem it is precisely within these precincts that human dignity must be upheld.
Our world is still imperfect, and we may not be able to fully reconcile the dual challenges of settling the “land of the Jews” while also fully championing full freedom for every human who resides in this land. However, simplistically ignoring the rights and dignities of others is xenophobic and an affront to God. Worrying solely about these rights while endangering our own lives is self-immolation. We wait for the day that these two agendas can each be fully implemented and the day in which the security of the Jewish people in their land and the legitimate dignities of those who join us in our land are each supported.
By Moshe Taragin
Rabbi Moshe Taragin is a rebbe at Yeshivat Har Etzion located in Gush Etzion, where he resides.
