Rabbi O’s Weekly Parsha: Acharei Mot-Kedoshim (Leviticus 16-20)Empathy Without Order: Judaism’s Response to Animal Rights Extremes In 2003, a terrorist attack in Israel was narrowly averted. A donkey, strapped with explosives, was sent toward an Israeli bus. Thankfully, the bomb went off too early — no human lives were lost, only the donkey was killed. Shortly afterward, PETA — the world’s largest animal rights group — sent a letter but it wasn’t to condemn the use of terrorism. No, they wrote a letter to Yasser Arafat pleading that animals be spared in future attacks. We live in a time when empathy is abundant but clarity is scarce. People want to care but they’re often not sure how or for whom. That’s where the Torah steps in — not to cancel compassion, but to channel it. Judaism teaches us to care for animals AND ALSO to understand our unique human role in the world. We are tasked with walking the line between kindness and confusion — and show to live with heart and purpose. Almost 50 years ago, a group of Cambridge professors signed a statement saying that animals have the same rights as people. We condemn totally the infliction of suffering upon our brother animals, and the curtailment of their enjoyment, unless it be necessary for their own individual benefit. We declare our belief that all sentient creatures have rights to life, liberty, and the quest for happiness to life, liberty, and happiness. (Animal Rights-A Symposium,’ London: Centaur Press, 1979, p.viii.) According to this view, hurting an animal is just as serious as hurting a human being. Although this might sound compassionate, and even though we know Judaism certainly cares about how we treat animals, our perspective is that we care about them—but put humans first. The Talmud affirms a Torah law prohibiting causing unnecessary pain to animals; it’s called tza’ar baalei chayim — preventing animal suffering (Bava Metzia 32b), which means that kindness to animals is a Jewish value. In fact, if a person brings a sacrifice but slaughters it in the wrong place, thereby disqualifying it, it is considered that he has spilled blood. (Lev. 17:3-4) But here’s the nuance: animals don’t have rights, rather, we have responsibilities including acting with care, compassion, and purpose in G-d’s world. Ramban (1194-1270) writes that all mitzvot that involve our acting with compassion toward animals exist in order that we don’t train ourselves to become cruel (Deut. 22:6). Animals are part of the beautiful world G-d created for us to live in — and everything in creation is there for our benefit and to fulfill our mission as human beings; consequently, every creature has meaning and purpose. A core concept in Chassidic teachings is that every creature, no matter how small or simple, is part of G-d’s plan. Even a tiny insect is alive because G-d wants it to be. If we hurt any living creature for no reason, we’re not just being insensitive — we’re dulling our ability to feel G-d’s presence in the world. But when we treat all of creation with respect, we actually grow closer to the Creator. In the final analysis, we use animals when that use serves a real purpose. After the flood, G-d tells Noah, every living thing will be for you to eat, just as I gave you the green plants (Genesis 9:3). We are allowed to eat meat, wear leather, and even use animals for medicine or science — as long as we don’t cause them unnecessary suffering and we don’t waste life. There’s a danger in saying animals are no different from people, as seen in the response of PETA after the 2003 attempted terrorist attack—and that’s the risk when compassion is confused with moral clarity. Judaism teaches that human beings are unique — created in the image of G-d, with a soul, free will, and a purpose no animal can share. Judaism doesn’t say that animals have rights, it says we have responsibilities — to be kind, thoughtful, and respectful of the world around us. We’re here to bring light into every corner of creation through the means of living with compassion, not just toward animals, but toward people — and never forgetting the sacred role each of us plays in uplifting the world. Judaism teaches that compassion is not just a feeling, it’s a calling, but that calling must be grounded in truth. We are not just part of creation — we are its caretakers. Every living creature has a purpose, but only human beings are created b’tzelem Elokim — in the image of G-d — with the ability to choose, uplift, and reflect Divine values in the world. The Torah doesn’t diminish the importance of animals, it elevates us by commanding us to treat them with care and at the same time it also reminds us of something even more sacred: that our compassion should begin with people — with seeing potential in one another. We make moral choices that protect human dignity and are rooted in purpose, not emotion. In a world where feelings often replace values, Judaism offers a timeless path forward: care deeply, live purposefully, and always remember who you are and why you’re here. We weren’t created just to coexist; we were created to transform. Good Shabbos |