For more than a month, the dog abuse charges against NFL star quarterback Michael Vick and his codefendants have stirred public outrage, calling for an immediate reaction amongst the NFL, law enforcement, and animal rights’ activists. The outcry has been long and loud; the disgust deep. This is not just another sports star whose celebrity is being made off the field as much as on the field. After hearing about how dogs who didn’t make the “cut” in preliminary fighting sessions were hung, drowned, slammed to the ground, and forced into positions where other animals could attack and violate them, it is difficult to remain indifferent or to accept any justification for such unlawful and inhumane behavior.
Of the more than seventy different laws outlined in this week’s Torah portion, one of them speaks of the dog: “You shall not bring the fee of a whore or the pay of a dog into the house of the Lord Your God in fulfillment of any vow, for both are abominations to the Lord Your God.”
It’s not surprising to read of the Torah’s attitude towards harlotry, but dogs? Is this a statement of the repugnance of dogs in particular or is there another message?
It is true that Jewish text has a long and colorful relationship with dogs. Commenting on the verse from the parashah, Nachmanides posits that dogs were considered abominations because they were often trained to be vicious, becoming a menace to society. Moreover, he says, it was common for sinners to offer their profits (from the sale, etc. of dogs) to charitable causes, as a way to redeem themselves. In forbidding the use of animals given in exchange for harlotry or for dogs, the Torah warns that ill-gotten gains cannot be purified by using them for holy ends, such practices are an abomination to God.
There are other references in the books of the prophets of people comparing themselves to a "dead dog" - indicating a lowly individual, unworthy of special attention. And, the Talmud Bava Kamma teaches that it is forbidden for a person to raise a vicious dog in his home, saying it is a way of securing the Torah’s law: "Do not place any blood in your house."'
That is not to say that Judaism is "anti-dog." Like any other dog owner, many a Jewish dog owner would tell you that dogs are indeed a human’s best friend. Such a view also plays a prominent role in the Jewish consciousness. The Hebrew word for dog, kelev, is made up of the same three letters that could be pronounced, k’lev, "like the heart" - a reference to the loyalty and companionship dogs often have provided to their owners. I still remember the love my brothers and sisters and I felt toward our dog growing up, Hot Dog. And, I also remember the incredible sense of loss and heartache we experienced when, more than 35 years ago, our babysitter actually left the gate to the yard open, allowing Hot Dog to get out and be run over by a car.
Beyond the dog and beyond simply prohibiting cruelty to any animal, the Jewish tradition associates care for animals of all types with righteousness. The medieval Rabbi Yehuda ha-Hasid, author of Sefer ha-Hasadim (Book of the Righteous) defines a cruel person as "one who gives one's animal a great amount of straw to eat and the next day requires that it climb up high mountains. Should the animal, however, be unable to run up quickly enough in accordance with its master's desires, its master beats it mercifully.”
How can we explain the Torah's selective regard and disregard for dogs and/or other animals? What lessons can we learn from these confusing and mixed messages about our responsibilities and compassion for animals?
A fundamental source for this discussion comes from Talmud Berachot (33b) which discusses an incorrect practice certain cantors had of inserting a prayer praising God for having mercy on the mother bird, referring to a second biblical commandment found in this week’s Torah portion that requires the sending away of the mother bird before taking her eggs from a nest. The Talmud and commentaries debate the reason the sages disapproved of this prayer. One reason given in the Talmud is: "for such a statement implies God's character is influenced by compassion, when in fact his actions are purely decrees."
Ramban, whose comment on the verse requiring that the mother bird be sent away before taking the eggs from the nest, helps us understand the Torah’s real lesson. Seeing that the Torah allows us to eat animals and to sacrifice them, he suggests that the Torah’s command to avoid having the mother watch her eggs being taken is because the Torah does not want us to engage in behavior that is subjectively cruel because it can lead to other evil character traits. Ramban suggests these mitzvot teach us to behave with mercy and kindness, and in addition, they also promote a conservationist awareness to be careful not to cause an entire species to become extinct. This is symbolically represented in the prohibition of not slaughtering mother and child at the same time.
According to Ramban, then, the Torah’s view on animal suffering reminds us of the real reason I think so many of us have been outraged to see these helpless animals being brutalized. We wonder if people who can kill a dog in cold blood can possibly have compassion, mercy, or any consideration for other living beings—including humans—and we fear that it is only a matter of time before they turn their violence on their own species.
We may not all be Michael Vick, put perhaps we too can learn a lesson from this unfortunate experience. Let it be a wakeup call for us to ask ourselves how we can assume our moral responsibilities as caretakers of the world. Perhaps we too can become more conscious of our own responsibility to treat dogs, other animals, and all of God’s creatures with love and compassion.
Shabbat Shalom.