The Prohibition of Suicide—Between Morality and Jewish Law (Column 753)

With God’s help

Some time ago I was asked in the responsa about the prohibition on suicide:

You once wrote that you do not see a moral problem in suicide, only a religious one.
As I understand your view more generally, morality is grounded in the existence of God, and beyond that there are religious commandments that are unrelated to morality. The prohibition on murder, for example, is both a religious prohibition and a moral prohibition. The moral prohibition on murder is presumably based on the fact that God created the human being in His image, because otherwise morality would exist even without any need for God’s existence. If so, one must ask why there is no moral problem in suicide. The reason murder is forbidden would seem to apply here as well, since God created the human being, and even a person himself has no moral right to kill himself.

In this column I wanted to expand somewhat on the answer I gave him there.

Introduction: the issue of faith and morality

I have discussed these issues from various angles in many places. Here four main points are important for us:

• In various places (see, for example, column 541) I argued that, in my view, morality is a separate category that does not depend on Jewish law. I explained that this independence is absolute, and therefore even commandments that seem moral are not really such.
• From this it follows that there is no such thing as Jewish morality. Morality is universal by definition, and there should be no difference between Jew and gentile regarding the content of moral imperatives. There may of course be arguments and disputes over moral issues (most of them, in my opinion, are disputes about the implementation of moral principles rather than about the principles themselves), but these are not disagreements that depend on one side’s being Jewish or gentile. And even if there is an influence of Jewish upbringing (and probably there is), that is an influence and not a logical decree. A person’s Jewishness does not obligate him to a particular morality different from that of the rest of humanity. If there is a Jew on whom the above influences did not operate and he holds a moral position atypical of Jews (because of those influences), there is no inconsistency in that.
• More than once (see, for example, column 456) I argued that, in my view, there is no moral obligation without belief in God (though not necessarily the God of a particular religion. Here God means a transcendent entity that gives binding force to moral norms). God’s will is the only thing that can give validity to the rules of morality. Without God, morality cannot derive from any objective source outside us, and if it derives from the fact that we are built in a certain way, or from the fact that the society to which we belong (even if that is all of humanity) agreed upon it, that cannot give it objective force (why should I obey the decisions of some group of people, even if I belong to it? Especially since that same group can also make wicked decisions, as in Nazi Germany, for example).
• However, in column 457 I qualified this somewhat, and argued that the content of moral imperatives does not depend on God and His will. God too is ‘subject’ to the rules of morality, and in that sense moral rules are like the rules of logic. He cannot create a world in which different moral rules prevail (though of course He can create a world in which its creatures do not understand what the moral rules are, or err about them). It follows that God’s will does give validity to moral principles, but does not determine their content (in my book, The First Existent, in the fourth discussion of Part III, I showed that this also resolves a contradiction in Kant’s thought regarding the relation between God and morality).

On moral atheists

Despite all this, it cannot be denied that as a matter of fact there are people who do not believe in God (that is, are unwilling to accept the existence of a transcendent entity whose commands or wishes have binding force) and nevertheless are committed to morality. Moreover, I do not see any significant difference one way or the other between the degree of morality of believing people and that of atheists. How can this phenomenon be explained according to my view?

Three possible explanations may be suggested (see, for example, columns 194 and 204):

1. Those atheists are hidden believers. They are not aware that deep inside them there is belief in God. It is expressed in their moral commitment, and the source of that commitment is a belief of which they are unaware.
2. Those atheists hold an inconsistent worldview. Either their atheism is mistaken or their commitment to morality is mistaken.
3. They are not really moral (they only behave morally, because that is what they feel like doing). The assumption here is that morality is not merely a form of behavior. The motivation for action and commitment to moral principles are part of the definition of moral behavior. A person may behave in an impeccably moral way all his life and still not be a moral person. For example, if he does so out of self-interest, or simply because he feels like it (and not out of value-based commitment).

Back to the question

We can now understand that I cannot answer a question about the view of a moral atheist on suicide (since that combination, as such, is contradictory). The question can be directed to a believer, and the discussion can ask whether there is a prohibition, and whether it is a moral or a halakhic one. As stated, even a moral prohibition derives its force from a divine command.

From the oxymoronic standpoint of a moral atheist, I assume that if we asked him, he would say that there is a prohibition on murder but no prohibition on suicide. Suicide harms no one, and therefore I see no reason such a person would regard it as a wrongful act. Even if there is some harm to his relatives and friends, it is likely that, in the moral atheist’s view, a person’s right to relinquish his own life is not overridden by those obligations. From his perspective, a person has absolute ownership over his life, and no one else has the right to infringe it.

At first glance, however, the above questioner was right that from a religious point of view there is room to see suicide as a moral prohibition as well. As he explained, if the basis for the prohibition on murder is the prohibition on harming the image of God in man, then that surely exists in suicide too. In the background lies a conception according to which a person’s life is not his absolute property, and he has obligations toward the rights of the One who created him. Therefore the Creator can dictate to him not to murder and not to commit suicide.

These points are based on the well-known words of Radbaz on Hilkhot Sanhedrin, chapter 10, law 6, where he offers an explanation for why a person cannot incriminate himself:

It is a decree of Scripture, etc. It was taught: if one comes to a religious court and says, “Give me lashes,” he is not given lashes. And so we say everywhere: a person does not render himself wicked. And the reason our Rabbi wrote does not apply with regard to lashes; therefore he wrote: the general principle is that it is a decree of the King, and we do not know the reason. Still, one can offer some explanation: a person’s life is not his own property, but the property of the Holy One, blessed be He, as it is said, “All souls are Mine” (Ezekiel 18). Therefore his admission is of no effect regarding something that is not his. And lashes are half of death. But his money is his own, and therefore we say that a litigant’s admission is equivalent to one hundred witnesses. And just as a person has no right to kill himself, so too a person has no right to confess that he committed a transgression for which he is liable to death, because his life is not his own property. And despite all this, I admit that it is a decree of the King of the universe, and one should not question it.

Some halakhic decisors cited these words of Radbaz as a basis for far-reaching rulings in areas such as saving lives, transplants, and the like.

Beyond the very challenge this poses to my position regarding suicide, this argument also undermines my claim that morality is universal and does not depend on whether I am Jewish or not. Seemingly, we see here that religious morality differs from secular morality, since a morality based on belief in God sees the value of human life, and a person’s ownership and rights over his body, differently.

Tirgitz, in his comment there, raised additional difficulties, and among them further sharpened this one:

I do not see what prevents a moral atheist from holding that suicide is forbidden. What does seem to me an example of a moral principle that is not universal but faith-based is the categorical imperative. If there is no rational legislator who takes general considerations into account, then it is hard for me to see an obligation grounded in a categorical imperative as a moral obligation.

In his view, there is no room at all for the categorical imperative within a framework of atheistic morality, since within such a framework there is no rational legislating agent who dictates that we take general considerations into account. I will address his first claim in a moment, but his second claim is unclear to me. Assuming there is atheistic morality (as he himself assumes, and I do not agree), why is the categorical imperative different from any other moral principle? If he accepts that a binding moral command can exist even in the absence of God, why is the categorical imperative not included in that? What is special about the generality of this command as opposed, say, to the prohibition on murder? Every moral prohibition concerns other people, and therefore is stated from a general rather than a subjective personal point of view; and therefore, in my view, morality as such requires the existence of an external, objective, rational source of authority.

The assumption of atheistic morality

A first remark concerns the question of the very existence of atheistic morality. At the beginning of my answer to the above question I wrote as follows:

This is indeed a rare example of a moral principle that is not universal but Jewish (or religious). I had not thought of that. One must remember, however, that this arises only because there is an inconsistent element here (an atheist who is committed to morality). Were it not for that, there would be no disagreement here.

I will now explain this more fully. When I said that, in my eyes, morality is universal and not Jewish, I was not speaking about atheistic morality. As stated, to my understanding this combination of words is meaningless (there are atheists who are moral, but there is no atheistic morality. As I argued in a booklet that appeared not long ago, there is a secular Jew but no secular Judaism). When I speak of non-Jewish morality, I mean a morality based on belief in God, but not specifically the Jewish God. I mean the God of another religion, or even a philosophical God who serves as a foundation and gives validity to morality. I do not know how to make comparisons with atheistic morality, because in my view this is an empty concept. As such, you can put into it whatever you want (see my remark on Tirgitz’s words at the end of the previous section). If so, universal morality is a morality that draws on God, who gives it validity, and therefore in all moral systems one can raise the claim of the questioner, namely, that the value of life is based on the prohibition against harming the image of God. There is nothing uniquely Jewish here.

On the other hand, one could imagine a moral system that is based on God as the source of morality, but does not accept the claim that He created us; or one in which, even if He did create us, the commitment to the value of life is not derived from harming the image of God. Such a system would see life as a right of the living person, and not as a matter of harming the image of God of the One who created him. Therefore there is still some challenge to my claim that morality is universal in essence. Seemingly, we have found here a non-universal dimension of morality.

But on second thought, I do not accept even that. As I noted above (in the introduction on faith and morality, in the second point), even on my view moral disputes are possible. What I claim is that the dispute is not connected to your being Jewish or believing in the Torah. A moral dispute sets two rational moral considerations against one another, and as such they can appear within discourse between believing Jewish sages as well. Universality does not mean uniformity and the absence of disputes. The claim is that the basis of the dispute is not Jewish faith. To see this, ask yourselves: could there not be a Jewish sage who disagrees with Radbaz? Could there not be a Jewish conception that sees the value of life as a right of the living person rather than as a matter of harming the image of God? There are verses in the Torah that one can cite in this context, but as is well known, verses admit of different interpretations, and it is difficult to base an unequivocal conception on them (the Torah also says "An eye for an eye"). A Jewish conception that sees no prohibition in suicide is certainly possible. But if such a conception is admissible within Jewish thought, then once again we return to the conclusion that there is no difference here between Jewish morality and non-Jewish morality, but rather a dispute between two moral conceptions that exists both in the Jewish world and outside it.

On Jewish law and morality

A somewhat different formulation may be proposed in order to explain the prohibition on suicide from a Jewish perspective. One may say that the prohibition on murder is itself divided into a moral prohibition—which exists only with respect to harming another person (because its basis is injury to the right of the other)—and a religious prohibition—which exists also with respect to harming myself (because of injury to the image of God). In this picture, even if we all agree that there is no morality without God, and even if we accept that an act of murder contains an element of harming the image of God (and this, as noted, exists even when I kill myself), the prohibition on suicide still does not exist on the moral plane. Harming the image of God is a religious prohibition and not a moral one, since it does not concern harm to the rights of another.

There is room to discuss this picture, since the prohibition on suicide is not, in any straightforward sense, a derivative of "You shall not murder". Therefore it is difficult to see it as a formal halakhic prohibition. But if this is a prohibition that is not halakhic, then seemingly we have returned to the realm of morality—that is, the prohibition on suicide is moral and not halakhic.

To this one can respond in two ways: 1. It is a religious prohibition, but not a halakhic one (and not a moral one either). 2. It is an extension of "You shall not murder" that may be included in Jewish law as a kind of pious conduct. There is no significant difference between these two possibilities. Possibility 2 merely suggests a source from which one may derive possibility 1. "You shall not murder" is not a moral prohibition but a religious one, and therefore its extensions do not belong to the realm of morality either. The religious prohibition on murder is based on harming the image of God (and now all the Torah’s statements will be assigned to this plane rather than to the moral plane), and therefore it is extended to self-harm (suicide). Beyond this there is a moral prohibition on harming the life of another person (but not myself).

Why does this suggestion sound confusing? I will try to explain that in the next section.

A third kind of values

In Jewish law there are extra-halakhic norms, some of which are mentioned by the Sages under headings such as ‘beyond the letter of the law,’ ‘pious conduct,’ and so on. It is commonly thought that all of these are moral norms that accompany Jewish law and are not included within it (on my view, they are not included because morality has no place in Jewish law). But in my remarks here one can see that there are such norms that do not belong to morality; rather, they are extensions of halakhic norms. In other words, there is here a category whose existence many people are not aware of (or do not agree to): extra-halakhic norms that do not belong to the realm of morality.

We have seen examples of such values in columns that dealt with ‘aesthetic values’ (see, for example, columns 154, 177, 595, 597, and 734). In those places I discussed norms that many people regard as values, even though they do not concern morality (there is no harm there to another person or to his rights). See also column 579 regarding the question whether there is a moral flaw in homosexuality.

All this shows that within our arsenal of values there are values that do not belong to the moral plane. If so, even from a Torah-halakhic perspective one can speak of extra-halakhic values that do not belong to the realm of morality. Are these values necessarily universal, as I argued regarding moral values? Not necessarily. It is possible that in this sphere there is a difference between a Torah-Jewish conception and other conceptions. We will now see this through a comparative analysis of two verses.

Between "You shall be holy" and "And you shall do what is right and good"

In the Torah itself we find two verses that on their face seem related to our discussion: "You shall be holy" and "And you shall do what is right and good". I should already note here that neither of them is included in the enumeration of the commandments. What is the difference between them? Is this a repetition of the same norms? Let us examine this through Nachmanides’ interpretation of the two verses.

On the verse "And you shall do what is right and good" (Deuteronomy 6:18), Nachmanides writes:

“And you shall do what is right and good in the eyes of the Lord”—according to the plain sense, it means: keep the commandments of the Lord, His testimonies and His statutes, and intend in performing them to do only what is good and right in His eyes. “So that it may go well with you”—this is a promise, saying that when you do what is good in His eyes, it will go well with you, for the Lord does good to those who are good and upright in heart. But our Rabbis have a beautiful midrash on this: they said, this refers to compromise and going beyond the letter of the law. The intent is that first it said that you should keep His statutes and testimonies that He commanded you, and now it says that even regarding what He did not explicitly command you, give thought to doing what is good and right in His eyes, for He loves what is good and right.

And this is a major principle, for it is impossible for the Torah to mention every mode of human conduct toward neighbors and friends, every business dealing, and every arrangement necessary for society and states. But after it mentioned many of them—such as “You shall not go about as a talebearer” (Leviticus 19:16), “You shall not take vengeance nor bear a grudge” (ibid. v. 18), “You shall not stand idly by your neighbor’s blood” (ibid. v. 16), “You shall not curse the deaf” (ibid. v. 14), “You shall rise before the aged” (ibid. v. 32), and the like—it returned and said in a general way that one should do what is good and right in every matter, so that this includes compromise and going beyond the letter of the law, such as what they mentioned in the law of the abutting neighbor (Bava Metzia 108a), and even what they said (Yoma 86a): that his conduct should be pleasant and his speech gentle with people, so that in every respect he will be called wholehearted and upright.

It is evident that Nachmanides understands this as a command of the Torah concerning moral conduct, doing the good and the upright.

Maimonides, at the end of Hilkhot Shekhenim (the discussion there concerns the trait of Sodom and the law of the adjoining landowner), writes:

Anyone who wishes to sell land, and two people come, each saying, “I will buy it for this price,” and neither of them is an abutting neighbor: if one is a resident of the town and the other is a neighbor of the field, the town neighbor takes precedence. If one is a neighbor and one is a Torah scholar, the Torah scholar takes precedence. If one is a relative and one is a Torah scholar, the Torah scholar takes precedence. If one is a neighbor and one is a relative, the neighbor takes precedence, for this too is included in what is good and right. But if one of them went ahead and bought it, he has acquired it, and the other—who would have been more fitting to precede him—cannot remove him, since neither of them is an abutting neighbor. For the Sages instructed in this matter only as a pious practice and an expression of a generous spirit for one who acts this way.

Here there is a category of pious conduct and good character, that is, moral conduct (beyond Jewish law). There the Maggid Mishneh almost copies Nachmanides’ words and writes:

The matter of the law of the abutting neighbor is that our perfect Torah laid down general principles for the refinement of human character and conduct in the world in saying, “You shall be holy,” the meaning being, as our Sages said, “Sanctify yourself in what is permitted to you,” so that one not be swept after desires. It also said, “And you shall do what is right and good,” meaning that one should conduct himself with good and upright behavior toward other people. It would not have been appropriate in all this to command every detail, because the commandments of the Torah apply at all times, in every era, and in every circumstance, and one would necessarily have to act accordingly, while human traits and conduct vary according to time and person. So the Sages wrote some useful particulars falling under these general principles; some of them they established as strict law, and some as an ideal practice and a path of piety—and all are from the words of our Sages. Therefore they said, “The words of the scribes are more beloved than the wine of the Torah,” as it is said, “For your love is better than wine.”

Here too it is clear that there is an extra-halakhic category concerned with moral conduct. True, he mentions there both "You shall be holy" and "And you shall do what is right and good", but the comparison between them is only with respect to the existence of binding extra-halakhic norms, and not necessarily with respect to the content of those two commands. We shall see this immediately in Nachmanides’ words.

By contrast, on the verse "You shall be holy" (Leviticus 19:2), Nachmanides writes:

“You shall be holy”—be separated from sexual prohibitions and from sin, for wherever you find a fence around sexual immorality, you find holiness; this is the language of Rashi. But in Torat Kohanim (section 1:2) I saw it stated without qualification: “You shall be separated.” And so they taught there as well (Shemini, chapter 12:3): “And you shall sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I am holy”—just as I am holy, so you shall be holy; just as I am separate, so you shall be separate.

In my opinion, however, this abstinence is not abstinence from sexual prohibitions, as the Rabbi explains; rather, it is the abstinence mentioned everywhere in the Talmud, whose practitioners are called perushim—those who abstain.

The point is that the Torah warned against forbidden sexual relations and forbidden foods, but permitted marital relations between a man and his wife and the eating of meat and drinking of wine. If so, a person of desire could find room to be steeped in lust with his wife or many wives, and to be among the guzzlers of wine and gluttonous eaters of meat, and to speak as he wishes all manner of vulgarity, since this prohibition is not explicitly mentioned in the Torah. Thus he could be a degenerate within the permission of the Torah.

Therefore the verse came, after specifying the prohibitions that it absolutely forbade, and commanded in a general way that we should abstain even from excesses in what is permitted. One should reduce sexual indulgence, in line with what they said (Berakhot 22a), that Torah scholars should not be found with their wives like roosters, and should engage in marital relations only as needed for fulfilling the commandment incumbent upon him. He should sanctify himself regarding wine by limiting it, just as Scripture calls the nazirite holy (Numbers 6:5), and he should remember the evils mentioned in the Torah concerning Noah and Lot. Likewise, he should separate himself from impurity, even though we were not warned about it explicitly in the Torah, as they mentioned (Chagigah 18b): the garments of the common people are considered impure for those who practice abstinence; and just as the nazirite is called holy (Numbers 6:8) also because he guards himself from corpse impurity. He should also guard his mouth and tongue from being defiled by gross overeating and by repulsive speech, as Scripture says (Isaiah 9:16), “every mouth speaks disgracefully,” and he should sanctify himself in this way until he attains abstinence, as they said of Rabbi Chiyya that he never engaged in idle conversation in all his days.

In these and similar matters this general commandment was given, after it had specified all the transgressions that are absolutely forbidden, so that included within this command would be cleanliness of one’s hands and body, as they said (Berakhot 53b): “And you shall sanctify yourselves”—these are the first waters; “and you shall be holy”—these are the final waters; “for holy”—this refers to fragrant oil. For although these are rabbinic commandments, the essential meaning of the verse is to warn in such matters: that we should be clean, pure, and separated from the mass of people who soil themselves with what is permitted and with ugliness.

He is speaking here about safeguards around the Torah’s prohibitions. These safeguards do not seem connected to morality. They are extensions that concern one’s stance before the Holy One, blessed be He, and holiness, not morality (harm to another).

Later in his remarks he makes a comparison to "And you shall do what is right and good" (just as we saw in the Maggid Mishneh above), and writes:

And this is the way of the Torah: to specify particulars and then state a general principle in cases like this. For after warning about the particular laws governing all dealings between people—”You shall not steal,” “you shall not rob,” “you shall not wrong,” and the other prohibitions—it then states generally, “And you shall do what is right and good” (Deuteronomy 6:18), so as to include within this positive commandment uprightness, fairness, and every act that goes beyond the letter of the law for the satisfaction of others, as I will explain there when I reach its place, with the will of the Holy One, blessed be He. And likewise regarding the Sabbath: it prohibited the labors through a negative commandment, and toil through the general positive commandment stated as “you shall rest.” I will further explain this as well below (23:24), God willing.

And the meaning of the verse saying, “for I the Lord your God am holy,” is to say that we will merit to cleave to Him when we are holy. And this is like the first statement in the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:2).

Here one can already see quite clearly that the comparison is not substantive (as I noted above in the words of the Maggid Mishneh). "And you shall do what is right and good" deals with moral imperatives, whereas here the discussion is about values of holiness. The comparison is only meant to illustrate the Torah’s way of writing a general extra-halakhic command that includes different details extending halakhic commands.

The difference between these two verses says exactly what I claimed above. There are two kinds of extra-halakhic norms: moral principles, which are included in the verse "And you shall do what is right and good", and norms of holiness or standing before God, to which the verse "You shall be holy" refers. The second kind is unique to a religious world; the first kind is relevant to every moral conception (which admittedly requires God, because as we have seen there is no atheistic morality, but not necessarily belief in a specific God).

Why are these extra-halakhic commands?

Rabbi Lichtenstein (for example, in his article ‘Jewish law and conduct as pillars of morality’) raises the possibility that these two commands are full halakhic obligations, except that the Torah cannot enter into all the details and therefore makes do with several general commands. Among other things, he relies on the words of Nachmanides and the Maggid Mishneh that we saw. In my view he is mistaken about this. There are several general commands that include details difficult to enumerate, and these did enter Jewish law and the enumeration of the commandments as part of a general commandment (such as love and fear of God, love of one’s fellow, and the like). But "You shall be holy" and "And you shall do what is right and good", despite the differences I described between them, were both not included in the enumeration of the commandments, and apparently not by accident. And the reason Nachmanides and the Maggid Mishneh compare them is that both of them see these two kinds of commands as extra-halakhic principles.

Why indeed are they not counted? It seems to me that this happens for different reasons. The verse "You shall be holy" was not counted because of what I called ‘the scoundrel paradox’ (see, for example, column 528). This verse expects us to act beyond the letter of the law, and therefore it cannot be included in the enumeration of the commandments. If this were a positive commandment, then acting in that way would become a full halakhic obligation as a matter of law, and not something beyond the letter of the law. By contrast, regarding the expectation that we be moral, the explanation here is twofold: first, as with "You shall be holy", the Torah wants us to do this voluntarily, and therefore it is important to leave it outside the strict line of the law (see the above-mentioned column). But here there is an additional explanation, namely, that morality and Jewish law are two independent categories (perhaps for the reason just mentioned). Therefore there is no place to bring moral expectations into the halakhic framework.