The pasuk tells us, “Banim atem la’Hashem,” we should always bear in mind that we are Hashem’s children. The pasuk then continues and cautions us, “lo sisgodidu v’lo sasimu korcha bein eineichem l’meis,” it is forbidden to cut your flesh or tear your hair when mourning a death.
Rashi comments that it is only fitting for Hashem’s children to have a pleasant appearance, and we therefore should not inflict wounds on ourselves nor damage our hair.
However, the Ramban questions this explanation. According to this reason, there should be a blanket injunction against these activities. Why is this prohibition limited to these specific circumstances? Apparently, remembering that we are Hashem’s children is meant to give some sort of reason or deterrent against mourning our loved ones in these destructive ways. The meforshim suggest several explanations for this rationale.
The Ramban continues by quoting the explanation of the Ibn Ezra. The pasuk is telling us an important message to keep in mind during times of sorrow. “You are Hashem’s child. He loves you even more than a father loves his child, more than you can possibly understand. Therefore, do not react excessively to the death of a close relative, do not lose yourself in your grief. Know and accept that everything he does to you is for the best, the way a young child places his full trust in his father.”
The Seforno connects the two ideas differently. At a time of mourning, we feel bereft. We are missing someone important to us, and to some extent, we feel alone. Therefore, the Torah reminds us that we still have a relative who is even closer to us - Hashem, the source of all goodness, still caring for us. The Bechor Shor adds that we are never truly orphaned, because we still have our Father in heaven. These thoughts should comfort us and help us keep perspective. If someone mourns excessively, it is a sign that they have lost sight of these important truths.
According to this explanation, we can understand an interesting exception to this rule.
The Gemara (Sanhedrin 68) relates that Rabbi Akiva did wound himself when he accompanied R’ Eliezer’s aron to his final resting place. Tosfos notes the obvious difficulty. How could Rabbi Akiva transgress the explicit prohibition against self-hurt for a death?
Tosfos answers that Rabbi Akiva was not mourning Rabbi Eliezer. Rather, he was expressing his pain for all of Rabbi Eliezer’s Torah that was now lost to him.
Why is this different? Why is this a valid justification for self-mutilation?
R’ Chaim Shmuelevitz explains that if someone loses a close relative, it is normal and acceptable to feel the pain and to grieve, but that is not a reason to injure yourself. Inflicting such pain is an expression of hopelessness, as is life has lost its meaning. If you felt how Hashem is still with you, and how much He loves you, you would realize that you still have so much to live for. However, we are meant to feel that a life without Torah is not worth living. Rabbi Akiva was expressing the vast emptiness he felt without Rabbi Eliezer’s Torah. This is a valid and appropriate reaction.
The Ohr Hachaim Hakadosh notes a third correlation between our relationship with Hashem and the issur of lo sisgodidu.
Imagine a person who returns home after an extended trip abroad. His newfound friends will miss him sorely, and his departure causes them significant distress. However, it would be unnatural for them to mourn him excessively, because then they are focusing solely on their own viewpoint. If they viewed the same events from the perspective of their friend, they would realize that it is really a happy time for him, as he is finally reunited with his father. This recognition should go a long way in easing their pain.
When a person is niftar, it is natural for his close relatives to experience sadness. However, for the niftar, it is a time of happiness, as he returns to his natural place, to Avinu she’bashamayim, after successfully completing his mission in this world.
Banim atem la’Hashem, you are Hashem’s children. Therefore, lo sisgodidu, you should not become overcome with your mourning, because the niftar is now in a better place, in his Father’s embrace.
Let us add one more explanation, al pi drash, to connect these two ideas.
The Gemara (Yevamos 13b) expounds the words lo sisgodidu as referring to an entirely different prohibition. “Lo sa’asu agudos agudos,” do not divide into distinct groups. Rashi explains that the pasuk prohibits two separate courts from issuing differing rulings on the same topics in the same city. The resulting conflict in practice would give the appearance of “two Torahs,” as if there were two versions of the Halachic legal system.
Perhaps this is what the pasuk is hinting at with its opening phrase. Banim atem la’Hashem, you are all brothers, children of the same Father. Noticeable variations in fulfilling His commands can lead to strife and jealousy, and so, lo sisgodidu, meaning, “lo sa’asu agudos agudos,” make sure to stay united in one, in your hearts and in your everyday practices.
