The case of the egla arufa – the heifer whose neck was broken – is a fascinating affair. A man is found dead in the field, and all the information points to the likelihood that a murder has taken place. There is no information, however, allowing us to identify the murderer. In a case such as this one, the Torah offers an act of atonement for the murder. The elders of the city closest to the place where the body was found must bring a heifer that had never been worked to Nahal Eitan – to an everflowing wadi – which will not be cultivated or sown, and break its neck, wash their hands on its head and say, “Our hands did not shed this blood, nor did our eyes see it done” (Devarim 21:1-9).
Maimonides believed that the entire ceremony was performed for a pragmatic reason – in order to “make waves” and publicize the difficult story of the unsolved murder and the fact that the killer is walking around freely. The hope is that this publicity will encourage people to come forward with testimony or new evidence that would help the authorities find the killer. It would appear that according to this approach, were there an operating rabbinical court today, there would be no need for such a ceremony given the ease of communication in a global era where every sneeze on one side of the globe is immediately reported on the other side. In any case, the details of the ceremony have no inherent meaning – they are only there “for effect.”
The standard approach of the rabbinic sages, however, is different. The central question with which they deal is why the judges called to perform the ceremony were to come from the closest city. Why shouldn’t it be judges from the most populous city, even if it was further away? From a statistical standpoint, isn’t there be a greater chance that the killer came from the larger city? This approach stems from the perspective that in situations of doubt we usually make use of the idea of rov – we assume that the thing we are unsure about (in our case, the unknown killer) came out of the larger group (the larger city). For example, were we to find an unmarked piece of meat in the street and we do not know whether it is kosher meat or not, we follow the rov. If the majority of the butcher stores in the city sell kosher meat, we can assume that the meat is kosher, since it most likely came from the larger group of stores – which sell only kosher meat.
The point being made by the rabbinic sages is that the case of egla arufah appears to be an exception to the rule. This is one of the well-known cases in the Talmud where the sages grapple with the question of what takes precedence rov – majority – or karov – proximity (see Bava Batra 23b). The Tosafot suggest that the proximity of the city makes it most likely that the killer came from there. Thus, we assume that the killer lived in the nearby city, and we require the residents of that city – by means of their representatives – to take responsibility and atone for the murderous deed of the person who grew up in their midst.
Nevertheless, it is rather strange to present the entire discussion as an attempt to solve the question of where the murderer came from and to suggest that the possibilities facing us are one of these two choices. Were we to judge based on the city with the largest population, we would probably have to conclude that the elders must always be brought from Tokyo. One could argue that what we look at is not the city with the largest population, but the closest city with the largest population. But the number of people in the nearest city may be smaller than the total population in the other cities nearby. Furthermore, we will need to determine how large a radius needs to be measured for this purpose.
Comparing and contrasting these two possibilities appears to be an attempt to present conceptual alternatives. Rather than viewing this discussion as part of the general question of resolving situations of doubt, it should be seen in terms of responsibility. Focusing on the idea of karov rather than on rov is a statement about the sources of human influence. The Gemara's argument is simple: Although the world is becoming flatter and hand-held digital communication devices allow us to purchase a dress on the other side of the world, alleviating the need to walk into a local store, the concept of community still remains powerful, and people still have direct and deep contact with their neighbors.
Based on this approach, we can understand that Maimonides believed that the publicity had to start with the city nearby, because it makes it more likely that the murderer would be caught. The rabbinic sages approached it from the perspective of communal responsibility, believing that the closeness creates obligations and responsibilities for the actions of an individual from that city.
But returning to our parasha raises another possibility, as well.
The ones who are required to perform the act of atonement are the elders of the city. But why should elders of the city be held responsible? I believe that this idea is based on the need to consider the perspective of the victim. Someone caught alone in a desolate field (in the background we hear echoes of that first murder that took place in a field – Cain’s murder of Abel) is revealed in his terrible loneliness. The murdered man looks up at the nearest city as a point of hope, as a place to escape. The parasha tries to give voice to his final frustration – salvation appears to be so close, but, in fact, it turns out to be out of reach. This highlights the failure of the leaders of the nearby city who were supposed to be in charge of the area, who could have paved a clear path and arranged for appropriate law enforcement that could have prevented the attack. The Torah is pointing an accusing finger at those who the anonymous person turned to in hope, even as the murderer approached. At those who did not calculate the risks accurately, who did not provide protection, who did not take full responsibility as they should have. Just as today people have stopped reporting burglaries and thefts to the police, relying instead on insurance or simply accepting the inevitable in advance. These all express lack of respect for individual property, leading to increases in crime. The elders of the city did not actually spill this blood with their own hands; neither did they do their job to make sure that such things don’t happen.
The parasha of egla arufa is not merely an attempt to create a media event – it is a description of a full ceremony. Like all ceremonies, it does its best to engage all the different senses. It includes: an appearance of the court elders, the young heifer whose neck is broken, blood that is spilled, the everflowing wadi, and a text that must be recited. The ceremony offers us the opportunity to examine the event that took place in a serious manner. To try and understand the meaning that the Torah gives to it and the experience that the Torah wants to impart on us. Standing before the flowing wadi and taking the life of a heifer that never had the opportunity to fulfill its purpose, symbolizes the murder that took place in a setting of natural stability. All this illustrates that those whose responsibility it was to ensure that life continue in a stable manner must go down to the flowing wadi to learn the significance of the natural flow that makes use of contours of nature for the good of life. This is supposed to make the elders realize that they must leave their comfortable offices and transform themselves from haughty judges, proud of their responsibilities and accomplishments, into public servants who recognize their obligation to put the needs of their constituents first. Part of this responsibility is to understand that the people’s frustration reflects their failures, that they are obligated to act to correct them, and to become water flowing in the community's stream of life.
We have seen three approaches to understanding the main audience of the egla arufa ceremony and its significance. Concern with:
The murderer (Maimonides)
The inhabitants of the city (the rabbinic sages)
The victim.
All three of these are found in this short ceremony that calls out for action, responsibility, atonement and correction.
