Muad Behavior: Harm, Habit, and Hope
Nestled in the list of rules (mishpatim) that give this week’s Torah portion its name, there are a handful of verses outlining restitution for harm done by an ox.
If you are getting ready to zone out, consider this important fact, gleaned from a 2009 study published by Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Ireland entitled Cow-related trauma: A 10-year review of injuries admitted to a single institution: “Cow-related trauma is a common among farming communities and is a potentially serious mechanism of injury that appears to be under-reported in a hospital context. Bovine-related head-butt and trampling injuries should be considered akin to high-velocity trauma.”
Luckily, no underreporting cow-related trauma in the Torah! Yet another example of how ancient biblical wisdom anticipates modern findings…
“When an ox gores a man or a woman to death, the ox shall be stoned and its flesh shall not be eaten, but the owner of the ox is not to be punished.” (Exodus 21:28)
You may object - surely the owner of the ox should have some responsibility here, right?!
“If, however, that ox has been in the habit of goring, and its owner, though warned, has failed to guard it, and it kills a man or a woman—the ox shall be stoned and its owner, too, shall be put to death.” (Exodus 21:29)
When an ox has no history or habit of harm, the owner has no responsibility, but in the case where a routinely reckless ox belongs to a heedless owner, and the worst comes to pass, that owner’s life is on the line too.
The key here is habit and expectation. A cow with no history of harm is called tam (innocent). A cow who repeatedly has demonstrated aggression is called muad (forewarned). Our little dog Bilbo, unfortunately, would probably be a muad dog because we have seen him growl and nip enough times to expect it. Therefore, we are responsible for keeping him out of situations where he might - even accidentally - cause harm.
Functionally, we excuse accidents caused by a tam animal, while holding the owners of muad animals liable for damages.
In the Talmudic discussion of this law (Bava Kama 26a), we learn something interesting: “Adam muad l’olam - a human is always considered muad.” In almost all cases, there is no presumption that humans wouldn’t cause harm, and therefore when a person damages or harms something, they are responsible for compensating the injured party.
I’m interested in this phrase on a deeper level, though. What does it mean for humans to be considered categorically “forewarned as potentially harmful?”
We could take it as a sober analysis of human nature’s dark side, akin to the sentiment that if someone says they want to harm you, you believe them, even without any past evidence of actual harm caused. In this view, cruelty can bubble up in a moment, and humans should always be interacted with cautiously, as if they have a habitual pattern of causing harm.
On the other hand, Jewish tradition also teaches that we should judge people on the side of merit (dan l’chaf zechut, Pirkei Avot 1:6), or in other words give people the benefit of the doubt. So, when accidents happen people are always liable to make amends, but when it comes to how we view each other’s essential character, the deeper truth is we trust until proven otherwise.
So much for how we relate to each other. But how do we relate to ourselves as muad? Let’s return to the key for how we designate animals as muad: what habits do we observe? We humans are also creatures of habit, and in the Jewish ethical tradition of Mussar, if we want to build good character, deepen our spiritual alignment, and generally be the best self we can be, the key is observing our own habits, and then slowly and thoughtfully experimenting with them so that we grow in wise ways.
Poet Mary Oliver put it this way: “Our battles with our habits speak of dreams yet to become real” (from Long Life: Essays and Other Writings). Even the struggle with our own patterns embodies a form of hope.
A person is forever muad. It is always worthwhile to look closer at our habits and what we expect of ourselves. To hold ourselves responsible. And to judge ourselves graciously, because the deepest truth is that to be who you are is a remarkable gift.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Jay LeVine
