The cities of refuge were set up so that someone who committed an accidental killing would be safe. He was being punished for the death of another but it was not murder.

The Road to the City of Refuge

This week’s parsha introduces one of the Torah’s most fascinating institutions: the arei miklat, the cities of refuge. There were six cities—three on each side of the Jordan—to which a person could flee if he accidentally caused someone’s death.

The classic example is two people chopping down trees. One man swings his axe, and suddenly the metal head flies off the handle and kills the other person. It was completely unintentional. Nevertheless, a life was lost, and the Torah requires the person responsible to flee to a city of refuge, where he remains until the death of the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest.

There are several remarkable details about these cities.

The roads leading to the cities of refuge had to be kept in excellent condition. There were signs directing the person toward the city. The Torah understood that this individual was running for his life. He could not afford to encounter potholes, obstacles, or confusion along the way.

Think about the symbolism. In ordinary circumstances, we want people to slow down. If someone is lost, perhaps the best thing is to stop, ask questions, and meet other people along the way. But the person fleeing to a city of refuge has no time for that. He needs a clear path and clear directions.

There is an important lesson here. When someone is in crisis, our job is not to make the path more complicated. Our job is to make the path clearer.

But then the Torah presents an even more difficult question: Why does this person remain in exile until the death of the Kohen Gadol?

What does the Kohen Gadol have to do with an accidental killing in the Galilee? He wasn’t there. He didn’t cause the accident. Why should his death determine when the refugee can return home?

Perhaps the answer is that the Kohen Gadol represents the spiritual condition of the entire Jewish people. He is not merely an individual performing a religious function. He is the spiritual representative of the nation.

The accidental killing may have been an accident, but it also involved negligence. The person using the axe should have made sure that the handle was secure. The tragedy resulted from something that should have been checked.

The Torah therefore teaches us something deeper about leadership and responsibility. The spiritual leaders of a nation carry responsibility not only for what they personally do, but for the spiritual environment of the people they lead.

The death of the Kohen Gadol represents a kind of national atonement. His passing reminds us that the spiritual condition of one person is connected to the spiritual condition of the entire community.

There is an extraordinary detail that reinforces this idea. The mothers of the Kohanim would send food to the people living in the cities of refuge so that they would not pray for the death of the Kohen Gadol.

Imagine being trapped in the city of refuge. You know that the one event that will finally allow you to go home is the death of the High Priest. What might you begin to think? You might actually start praying for his death.

So the mothers of the Kohanim would provide these people with food and support. They wanted to make sure that the refugees had no reason to wish harm upon the Kohen Gadol.

This idea has a fascinating parallel in American history. George Washington arranged in his will that certain enslaved people would become free upon his death, while those enslaved by his wife, Martha, would not necessarily become free until her death. Martha eventually recognized the terrible conflict of interest this created: if someone’s freedom depends upon your death, that person has a reason—even if only subconsciously—to hope that you die. She therefore arranged for their freedom earlier.

The parallel is striking because it highlights the danger created when one person’s well-being is dependent upon another person’s death.

But the Torah is teaching us something even larger.

The people in the city of refuge were not isolated from the rest of the nation. Their situation was connected to the Kohen Gadol. The Kohen Gadol’s spiritual standing was connected to the people. And the people themselves were connected to one another.

We are all spiritually interconnected.

Sometimes we imagine that our actions affect only ourselves. I make a decision, and it is my business. Someone else makes a decision, and that is their problem.

The Torah teaches otherwise.

What one person does can affect another person. The behavior of a leader can influence an entire community. The spiritual choices we make can have consequences far beyond what we see.

And perhaps that is the ultimate message of the cities of refuge.

The Torah is teaching us to take responsibility on two levels: personal responsibility and communal responsibility.

The person who caused the accident must take responsibility and flee to the city of refuge. But the community must also take responsibility by making the road safe, providing clear directions, and creating an environment in which even someone who has made a terrible mistake has a path toward protection and eventual return.

May we learn from the cities of refuge to make our own roads clearer for people who are struggling, to remove obstacles rather than create them, and to recognize that what we do spiritually affects people far beyond ourselves.

Because in Judaism, none of us lives spiritually alone. What we do here can affect Jews everywhere. And that is something worth thinking about.