Don’t Shoot The Messenger

Bava Basra 152

Our Gemara on amud beis discusses a type of legal deed known as a dayetikei. While this document shares similarities with other legal titles and deeds, it often specifically refers to a will or an estate bequeathment. A beautiful midrash (Yalkut Shimoni, Nach 968) uses the term dayetikei in a parable to explore humanity’s relationship with desires and the evil inclination (yetzer hara):

There was a man who frequently traveled to an inn for business, accompanied by his servant. Meanwhile, his son remained in Eretz Yisrael, diligently studying Torah. During one such trip, the man realized he was nearing the end of his life. He thought, “What should I do? If I leave all my possessions to my son, the servant might take everything and abscond.”

He summoned a scribe and instructed him to write a dayetikei stating, “My son may choose one item – whatever his heart desires – and the rest shall belong to my servant.” The servant, believing he would inherit everything, blessed his master and delivered the document to the son in Eretz Yisrael.

When the son learned of his father’s passing, he mourned. Afterward, he asked the servant, “Where is my father’s property?” The servant replied, “Everything belongs to me, except for one item of your choosing.” The son proposed, “Let us go to court tomorrow.”

The son approached his teacher, distressed. The teacher comforted him and said, “Your father acted wisely. In court, declare, ‘I choose this servant.’ By doing so, all the possessions will revert to you, as the servant will belong to you along with everything else.” The son followed the advice, and thus it was done.

The nimshal (lesson) of this parable is profound: G-d, like the father in the story, wants us to succeed in life, yet we cannot thrive without desires and ambition. The yetzer hara, though often seen as a negative force, is a necessary evil. It fuels creativity and achievement, and ultimately enables us to transcend our physical limitations.

In this analogy, G-d (the father) leaves the physical world (the inn) and entrusts his possessions to the yetzer hara (the servant) in a dayetikei. The yetzer hara, thinking it serves its own purposes, unwittingly delivers the tools for spiritual greatness. Our task is to channel these drives – love, mastery, connection, and satisfaction – toward fulfilling our higher purpose.

Spiritual Life-Saving Measures

Bava Basra 153

Our Gemara on amud beis notes that most people who fall ill eventually recover. This observation has legal implications in cases where a person on their deathbed bequeaths their estate to someone else, but later recovers. Such directives can be invalidated retroactively if the person recovers, and the estate reverts to its rightful heirs. The rightful heir does not have to prove that his father did not in fact die, unless the recipient of the gifts can prove that death followed.

This principle underlies a debate in halacha regarding whether one should pray for someone ill in a distant city. The Likkutei Maharil (quoted by the Chasam Sofer, Gittin 28) rules against offering a Mi Shebeirach prayer for a sick person in another location, reasoning that the individual may have already died, rendering the prayer disrespectful and in vain. However, the Nachalas Shiva (40) argues, based on our Gemara, that statistically, the person has likely recovered or remains alive, so the prayer is appropriate.

Chasam Sofer defends the logic of the Likkutei Maharil. If you add up the odds of both recovery or death, then there is more likelihood that there was some status change where prayer is no longer needed one way or the other. However, the Chasam Sofer ultimately sides with the Nachalas Shiva because of an additional reason: Torah prohibitions are suspended even in uncertain cases of life-threatening danger. Therefore, even the small risk of offering a “prayer in vain” is justified when there is potential to save a life.

This raises a fascinating halachic question: Can spiritual interventions aimed at life-saving outcomes justify actions that might otherwise violate Torah law?

One famous and controversial responsum addresses this issue. Rav Shalom Mordechai Schwadron (Responsa Maharsham III:225) discusses whether it is permissible to send a telegram on Shabbos to inform a great tzaddik of the need to pray for a terminally ill individual. He explores the theoretical possibility that for someone who truly believes in the healing power of a tzaddik’s prayers – and if the tzaddik is indeed of such a caliber – this might be considered a life-saving measure. Nevertheless, he approaches this matter cautiously, recalling an incident in his youth where a dayan was censured for advocating similar actions and stripped of his post.

While the Chasam Sofer permits certain risks, such as a potentially vain prayer, to facilitate a spiritual cure, it is unclear if this leniency extends to outright violations of Shabbos or other prohibitions. This distinction may hinge on whether the spiritual action in question is universally accepted as a legitimate life-saving intervention.