Mishneh Torah, Murderer and the Preservation of Life 8-10

Hook

We gather today to honor a memory, a presence that has shaped our lives and continues to resonate within us. It is a time for remembrance, not of endings, but of the enduring impact of a life lived. The occasion might be an anniversary, a birthday, or simply a moment when a particular feeling or memory surfaces, inviting us to pause and connect with what has been. This space is for you, for whatever arises.

Text Snapshot

From Mishneh Torah, Laws of Murderer and the Preservation of Life, Chapter 8, Halakhot 10 and 11:

"All of the cities of the Levites serve as a haven; each is a city of refuge. This is indicated by Numbers 35:6-7: 'And in addition to them, you shall give them 42 cities. All the cities that you shall give the Levites shall be 48 in number.' The verse thus established an association between them; all of them serve as havens.

What then is the difference between those cities that are set aside as cities of refuge, and the other cities of the Levites? The cities of refuge serve as havens whether one enters them with the intent of taking refuge or one enters them without that intent; since a killer enters their confines, they serve as a haven for him. The other cities of the Levites serve as a haven only when one enters with that intent in mind.

Whenever a city serves as a haven, the surrounding area also serves as a haven. When a tree is standing within the limits of a city of refuge and its leaves extend beyond those limits, once a killer comes below its leaves they serve as a haven for him. If a tree stands outside the limits and its leaves extend within those limits, as soon as he reaches its trunk it serves as a haven for him."

Kavvanah

As we hold these words, let us cultivate an intention of expansive sanctuary. The text describes cities of refuge, places designated to offer safety and protection, even for those who have caused unintentional harm. These cities were not just geographical locations; they represented a profound commitment to preserving life and acknowledging the complexities of human error.

In our grief, we may feel ourselves to be the unintentional killers, burdened by regret or sorrow for things left unsaid or undone. Or perhaps we feel like the unintentional victim, irrevocably impacted by loss. This practice invites us to consider how we can create sanctuaries, both within ourselves and in our communities, that offer refuge and understanding, not as a denial of pain, but as a way to hold it with grace.

The concept of the surrounding area also serving as a haven, even extending to the branches of a tree, speaks to the pervasive nature of safety and solace. It suggests that protection is not confined to a strict boundary, but can permeate the spaces around us. Let our intention be to widen these boundaries of compassion, to recognize that even in the midst of our sorrow, there are spaces where we can find rest, where we are held, and where healing can begin to take root. May we be open to receiving this sanctuary, and may we extend it generously to ourselves and to others.

Practice

Today, we will engage in a micro-practice of "Mapping Our Haven." This practice is designed to help us explore the concept of sanctuary in relation to our own memories and the presence of those we remember. It is an invitation to be gentle with ourselves and to honor the evolving nature of grief.

Step 1: Lighting a Candle (or other symbolic act)

Begin by finding a quiet space where you can be undisturbed for a few minutes. If you have a candle, light it. As the flame flickers, imagine it as a beacon of light, a symbol of remembrance and enduring presence. If a candle is not accessible or suitable for you, you might choose to hold a smooth stone, focus on a comforting scent, or simply close your eyes and take three deep, grounding breaths. This is your personal anchor for this practice.

Step 2: Naming the Memory and the Haven

• Acknowledge the Memory: Gently bring to mind the person or memory you are honoring today. You might whisper their name, write it down, or simply hold it in your heart. There is no need to force this; allow it to arise naturally.

• Identify Your Haven: Now, consider the text’s description of cities of refuge and their surrounding areas. Think about what constitutes a "haven" for you in relation to this memory. This might be:

  • A physical place: A park bench where you used to sit, a room in your home, a natural landscape.
  • A time of day: The quiet of early morning, the stillness of late evening.
  • A specific activity: Reading a particular book, listening to a certain piece of music, engaging in a creative pursuit.
  • A feeling or sensation: The warmth of the sun on your skin, the embrace of a loved one, a sense of peace.
  • A connection to the person: A shared joke, a recurring thought about their wisdom, a familiar scent.

  Allow yourself to explore what comes to mind without judgment. The "haven" can be large or small, concrete or abstract. It is simply a space where you feel a sense of safety, comfort, or connection to the memory.

Step 3: Drawing the Boundaries (or Tracing the Path)

Once you have identified a haven, take a moment to explore its boundaries, much like the text describes the areas surrounding the cities of refuge.

• If your haven is a physical place: Imagine its edges. Are there specific trees, pathways, or landmarks that define its perimeter? How does it feel to be within those boundaries?
• If your haven is a time or activity: Consider what leads you into this haven and what allows you to emerge from it. What are the subtle shifts that signal your entry and exit?
• If your haven is a feeling or connection: Trace the threads that connect you to it. What actions, thoughts, or moments cultivate this feeling?

As you do this, recall the text’s idea that even the surrounding area is a haven, and the branches of a tree extending beyond the city’s walls still offer protection. This means your haven is not rigidly defined. It can be expansive, fluid, and interconnected.

Step 4: The "Refuge, Refuge" Signpost

The text mentions signs saying "Refuge, Refuge" at intersections. In your practice, create a similar internal or external marker for your haven. This could be:

• A spoken phrase: Silently or softly say, "Refuge, Refuge" as you enter your mental or physical haven.
• A gesture: A specific hand movement or a gentle nod.
• A visual cue: Imagine a small, illuminated signpost.

This "signpost" is a reminder that this space is available to you, a place where you can find a measure of solace and continuity with the memory you hold.

Step 5: Reflecting on the Offering

Consider the purpose of these cities of refuge in the text: to protect those who have caused unintentional harm and to acknowledge that life is precious and mistakes happen. As you sit with your identified haven, reflect on what it offers you. Does it provide:

• A sense of continuity?
• A space for processing?
• A moment of peace?
• A connection to love?

There is no right or wrong answer. The offering is unique to you and your experience.

This practice is a gentle on-ramp. You can spend as little as five minutes or as long as you feel called to. The intention is to create a personal ritual of remembrance and self-compassion, acknowledging that sanctuary can be found and cultivated.

Community

In our tradition, the concept of "community" is vital, particularly in times of grief and remembrance. The Mishneh Torah’s detailed laws regarding cities of refuge and the process of atonement for unintentional bloodshed highlight a societal responsibility to care for the vulnerable and to seek resolution and peace.

Sharing the Light (or Offering a Story)

One way to weave community into this practice is through shared experience and bearing witness. You might consider reaching out to someone you trust – a friend, family member, or spiritual companion.

• Option 1: The Shared Candle: If you have a candle lit for your practice, you can invite someone to light a candle in their own space simultaneously. You don't need to be physically together or even speak. The act of lighting a candle at the same time creates a silent, invisible thread of connection, a shared acknowledgment of remembrance and the search for sanctuary.
• Option 2: A Brief Story or Reflection: If you feel comfortable, you could share a very brief, anonymized reflection on your practice with another person. This doesn't need to be a deep dive into your grief, but perhaps a simple statement like, "Today, I explored the idea of 'haven' in my remembrance practice, and I found solace in [brief mention of your haven]." This act of sharing, even in a small way, can break the isolation that grief can sometimes bring. It's an invitation for the other person to be a witness to your inner work.
• Option 3: Collective Action: If you belong to a community group or a support circle, you might suggest a shared practice like this for a future gathering. This could be a way for the group to collectively acknowledge losses and to strengthen their communal sanctuary.

The goal here is not to burden others, but to gently extend the circle of remembrance and support. Just as the cities of refuge were a communal endeavor, so too can our acts of remembering and finding solace be woven into the fabric of our relationships.

Takeaway

Today, we have explored the concept of sanctuary through the lens of ancient wisdom. The text of Mishneh Torah, while addressing unintentional bloodshed, offers us a profound metaphor for how we can create spaces of safety and continuity in our own lives, especially in remembrance.

The key takeaway is that sanctuary is not a fixed destination, but a cultivated practice. It can be found in places, times, activities, feelings, and connections. Like the cities of refuge with their extended boundaries, our personal sanctuaries can be fluid, expansive, and interconnected. By intentionally identifying and nurturing these spaces, we can create havens for ourselves where remembrance is held with compassion, where grief can be met with gentleness, and where the enduring light of those we love can continue to guide us. May we each find and build our own "Refuge, Refuge" within and around us.