That Man Must Die!

November 1, 2002 
Rabbi Gary S. Creditor

 

In 1988 a man named Joel Steinberg savagely beat his live-in companion and in the same way killed her daughter. In the ensuing case, the penalty for his crimes was to be eight years. This case re-ignited the issue of capitol punishment in the State of New York where I was Rabbi before coming to Richmond. The passions raised then and there had the same intensity as the fear, which we knew here the past weeks, by the murders by Muhammed/Williams and Malvo, now stretching from Louisiana, Alabama, Virginia, Maryland, and Washington, D.C. The tussle by the jurisdictions to try them is based on the intention to try Malvo as well as Muhammed for capitol murder with the death penalty as their punishment. This will renew the passionate debate about capitol punishment. This past week I received the October edition of Sh'ma, the periodical that presents multiple views of central issues facing American Jews. It was entirely devoted to this subject. With a little editing and some reaction to the articles in Sh'ma, I share with you my views on capitol punishment, shaped by my experience then and our experience now.

In the Talmud it states that Jews are "Rachmanim b'nai Rachmanim," "Merciful Ones, the children of Merciful Ones." Elsewhere we read that we are to be like the students of Abraham our father, who were noted for their generous nature, humble spirit, and modest desire. Because of these character traits, inborn, innate, or acquired, fused with the moralistic exhortations of the prophets, Jews were always in the forefront of causes, which nominally are called liberalism.

I understand this nature of our people. The general tendency of the Bible, especially the prophets, is to improve the world in God's image, l'takayn olam b'malchut Shadai. We are to make the world into a gentler and kindlier place. I, too, have inculcated into myself these values in my attitude towards life and its problems. My sermons during my Rabbinate have authentically evinced concern for the downtrodden, the hungry and the poor. My political hero was John Kennedy. I have voted overwhelmingly Democratic. I have been a supporting member of the Southern Poverty Law Center for decades.

But on a rare occasion, another voice speaks inside of me, with a rage, even if quiet, a real rage. I don't want to be Abraham's student and feel kindlier, gentler and liberal Instead I want to hear the plain "mamaloshen" of the Torah, Exodus, sedra of Mishpatim, very clearly. I want the original text of the Torah, undistilled by Rabbinic interpretation to cry out:

"A person who strikes another person and kills him, must surely die."

The Torah text is simple and straightforward. If it's an accident, the head of the ax goes flying off and the person walking by is fatally struck, that's manslaughter, with no death penalty.

But for purposefully striking another human being,

For intending to murder in cold blood, a man, a woman, a child,

That's not manslaughter in any degree.

That's murder, the penalty for which, is death.

When I first wrote this sermon in 1989 I asked myself "Is this me talking?" "I'm a liberal." I participated in campaigns, signed petitions and the like, against the reinstitution of the death penalty in the state of New York. I supported governors Carey and Cuomo when they refused to sign a bill passed by the legislature to do so. I still cringe inside when I read about an execution in any state, and especially now, after the revelation of so many mistakes. It's not a matter of me getting older and wiser, of my politics changing as my socio-economic level rises. It is not a matter of racism. I know my proletarian roots very well. I am the grandson of a soapbox orator from the Depression years, who fought the evictors of tenants who couldn't pay the rent and carried their furniture in on her tiny back. I know who I am, and I know where I come from.

And I know my Jewish tradition very well. I learned the anonymous statement in the Mishna: "A Sanhedrin which puts one man to death in seven years is called 'a murderous court.' Rabbi Eliezer adds, 'or even once in seventy years.' To that both Rabbi Tarfon and Rabbi Akiva said, 'Had we been members of the Sanhedrin the death penalty would neverhave been inflicted.'" I know that the humanity of the Rabbis was repulsed by the fact that the Torah legislates the death penalty for four specific categories of sins:

Offenses against God and Religious Observances;

Offenses against the Social Order;

Violence Against the Person; and,

Immorality and Indecency.

They did their best to tie the hands of these laws so that the penalty could not be administered. They enacted legal requirements that were impossible to fulfill. They required the witnesses be present who give a warning to the intended criminal, who must respond that he knows what he's doing and he knows the penalty, and in spite this will do it anyway. It's like reading the Miranda Act before the crime is committed.

I know what the Rabbis were doing.

They had a sense for the spirit of the law.

They had their philosophy of holiness of human life.

They had their concept of justice.

I agree with them on all three.

I think that they understood that the death penalty will not deter anybody from committing such a crime.

They understood that once you begin executing people legally, there would be inequities, some would die who shouldn't and some who should, wouldn't.

They understood that the executor and all those involved in the process are brutalized by a system where it is legal for the state to kill.

But they didn't read the papers, watch the television or listen to the radio as we have these past weeks.

They didn't go shopping in a mall and walk out looking everywhere and anywhere.

They didn't pump gas wondering where a shot could come from.

They didn't have to explain to their children why they missed school for two days.

They didn't stand by the bedside of the man in MCV and hold his wife's hand as he battles for life, threatened for absolutely no reason under the sun.

I could try and be rational and intellectual about all this. The Shm'a articles make cogent philosophical arguments against capitol punishment. But there is another chord that resounds inside of me:

I want vengeance for the animal-like depravity that makes a simple car into a killing machine.

I want vengeance for the defenseless deaths of the wonderful, beautiful and innocent men and women mercilessly, pointlessly, needlessly, gunned down in cold blood.

I want vengeance for the pain felt by their families who sent them off to work without a last goodbye, with no inkling, for there was no need to suspect, that they would never see them again.

I want vengeance for the child that has still not recovered, for doing nothing more than going to school.

I want vengeance for the child that resides in each of us that was murdered.

I want vengeance for the destruction of the divine image that was destroyed.

I want to know that somehow, somewhere, sometime, the divine promise that evil will really catch hell, will come true. And I don't want to wait until the Messiah comes.

Is it so wrong to raise our fists to heaven to say that these men must not receive the blessing of being alive after they have deprived others of life?

Is it so wrong to scream to the heavens that all people, children, women and men must be able tolive decent, simple, happy lives?

Must we look into our children's faces and answer the question "Why?" without being able to say "justice prevails"?

There is something from inside the deepest part of my kishkes that calls out for revenge. Plain and simple. While coming from another situation, and despite Rabbinic interpretation that it refers to money compensation, the Torah records thelaw of retaliation.

"If there be a disaster, then thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, wound for wound."

Were not the murders of all these people disasters?

Were not the woundings of the child and adults disasters?

My humanity calls out for the execution of divine judgement. I wish for the Rabbinic lenient interpretation, but my heart cries out for real justice.

I am buoyed by two core teachings in our tradition. In the Mishna that I quoted before, the last word is given to Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel who responds to Rabbis Tarfon and Akiva, that having it their way "would have increased the murderers in Israel." He understood the tension of our teachings yet recognized the reality in which we live. Secondly, the Torah teaches that the blood of the innocent, shed intentionally, impurifies the land.

The land is redeemed from its impurity only by the blood of those who shed it .

A great heaviness of heart, fear for life, trepidation for living, impurity of the land has stretched from coast to coast. It must be lifted from our hearts and minds and from our children. The land must be cleansed.

This is the fifth sermon that I have preached on capitol punishment. Twice I did so after the Steinberg case in 1988 and twice after the Oklahoma City bombing and the McVie case in 1995. I have never been sure how to conclude.

I want to embrace the kinder and gentler worldview that the Rabbis preach.

The world has been a harsh teacher.

I want to believe that every human being can be redeemed and saved.

The longer I live I see more truly evil and horrible people.

I pray for the coming of the Messiah or of the Messianic Age, both which promise that all this would end.

It isn't here. He tarries, far too long.

The names of those murdered will be forgotten. The names of the wounded will never be made public.

My prayers for the Messiah lead me to deeds, even if quiet and unknown

hopefully contribute to a better world.

My vision of most people is unshaken, that most are wonderful human beings.

My heart remains unembittered, even if scarred.

I remain an optimist and not a pessimist, even while being a realist.

With all that steadfast in the core of my being, I still raise my fists to heaven and demand, justice. True justice.