Empathy and Compassion: Finding Connections in a Seemingly Random Universe
D’var Torah for Emor (Leviticus 21:1—24:23)
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
April 30, 2010, 16 Iyar 5770

I often hear about young children showing amazing empathy and compassion. I remember when our daughter, Hannah, was in preschool and her teacher told us of something that happened that day. There was a child who developed a fever and was placed on a cot by the teacher until he could be picked up by his parents. The teacher covered him with a blanket, but other children kept pulling the blanket off. Hannah kept covering him again and again, until in frustration she came crying to the teacher. The teacher was struck by the show of compassion and told us about it.

This was not an isolated incident. I hear from many parents about how their children have this intrinsic quality inside them, and how they show it in all sorts of amazing ways. Parents never forget these examples of empathy and compassion, particularly because they show up already at the youngest age.

To some, this kind of behavior may seem to be nothing short of amazing. To Dr. Marc Hauser, however, they are proof of a theory he proposed a few years ago. Dr. Hauser, a Harvard professor, said that “in the same way that we are endowed with a language faculty that consists of a universal toolkit for building possible languages, we are also endowed with a moral faculty that consists of a universal toolkit for building possible moral systems.”[1] What this means is that an innate sense of morality may be embedded within us, within our DNA, as part of our survival mechanism. Dr. Hauser proposes that this is an evolutionary trait that developed within human beings as part of the Darwinian natural selection process.

Scientists, theologians as well as atheists have been arguing about this theory. Atheists, in particular, claim that what this means is that morality is genetic, and therefore not necessarily an aspect of religion. Theologians, on the other hand, ask whether this observed trait is merely a random development, or whether perhaps one couldn’t see the hand of God there, implanting the seeds of morality deep within us.

However it is that empathy and compassion have become embedded within us, it is clear that these feelings are found already in the behavior of very young children.

What the Torah teaches us is that they are examples of holy behavior.

Making moral choices is what the Torah is all about, and though this parashah is tightly packed with instructions and commandments that may seem antiquated and irrelevant, carefully placed within them are also timeless moral lessons that serve to remind us of our humanity—and of the sacred divine image that is within us. To be human, after all, is to be a step above all other animals. It’s about adding value and meaning to what would otherwise be no more than natural animalistic instincts. Parashah Emor is about preserving dignity at the most difficult moments of life—grief and mourning after a loved one’s death. At the same time, however, it is also about celebrating holidays—making ordinary days extraordinary by adding symbolic meaning to them. Embedded within the chapter that describe the sacrifices offered on these holidays are two rules that elevate the ritual far beyond its original intent—to placate angry or unmindful gods:

“When an ox or a sheep or a goat is born, it shall stay seven days with its mother, and from the eighth day on it shall be acceptable as an offering by fire to the Lord.” (Leviticus 22:27).

The first of these commandments may be understood better in light of a phrase from the Talmud (Tractate Pesachim 112a): "More than the calf wants to nurse, the cow wants to give milk." The Torah’s commandment reminds us of the maternal instinct that can be found even in animals. Recognition of this instinct is the first step; allowing the bond between mother and child to develop enables us humans to express our empathy and compassion for all life. Of course, this commandment is only the first step, and it naturally leads to the next one, expressed in the following verse:

“However, no animal from the herd or from the flock shall be slaughtered on the same day with its young” (Lev. 22:28).

Feelings of love are not exclusive to human beings. Pet owners may be too quick in perceiving emotions in their pets’ behavior. But not really. Anyone who has ever owned a dog knows better. Even out in the farmyard and in the wild, though caretaking of the young may be instinctive, it is not hard to recognize the emotional attachment that develops between a parent and its offspring, even in animals.

Empathy and compassion may be embedded within our DNA, but not all of us learn to activate them. Too often, many of us fall into base and instinctive behavior. To be religious means to turn on the potential for holiness within us, to elevate the ordinary into the sacred. There is no end to this process—it is ongoing; it requires constant practice and dedication. Once set in motion, further progression must follow, leading us to additional steps that show mercy and kindness.

Ultimately, the question of killing the animal in the first place must come up. Life is God-given, after all. All life, not only human life.

The moral choices we make may originate from somewhere very deep within us, perhaps as deep as our DNA. Where these choices lead us, however, to what conclusions and behavior, that each of us is free to determine for ourselves. Not all of us choose to become vegans based on this Torah portion. However, Parashah Emor helps us to understand that exercising empathy and compassion can turn us into better human beings. Like maintaining self-respect and dignity, like celebrating holidays and other special events, these are all examples of how we turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, of how we can create order in a seemingly random world, and of how we can bring sanctity and holiness into our everyday lives.

[1] Marc Hauser: Moral Grammar, posted by PvM on November 6, 2006 on “Panda’s Thumb.”
http://pandasthumb.org/archives/2006/11/marc-hauser-mor.html

©Boaz D. Heilman, 2010