In moments of crisis, we are all first responders—and that applies to our spiritual lives as well.
Go Study, Kid
In Jerusalem, there is a man named Eli Beer. Back in 1978, he was just a young boy who witnessed a terrible bus bombing. He saw an elderly man lying on the ground, begging for help, but he was only seven years old. Overcome with fear, he ran away from the scene.
As he grew up, he decided he had to help people in similar situations. He trained to become an EMT—a paramedic who joins the ambulance crew to provide first aid to the injured.
By the age of 15, he had already been volunteering for two years and had helped many people. However, he noticed that often, by the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late. The traffic in Jerusalem is a nightmare, and ambulances frequently get stuck in gridlock, failing to reach the scene in time to save a life.
He shared a story about receiving a call for a seven-year-old boy choking on a hot dog, but they were all the way across town. They tried to get there quickly, but it took twenty minutes. They attempted to resuscitate the boy, but then a doctor who lived next door walked in, checked the child, and said it was too late. At that moment, Eli thought: if that neighborly doctor had known about the emergency immediately, he could have saved the child. Right then and there, Eli and his fellow volunteers decided to form a neighborhood response group to be on the scene instantly when help was needed.
He approached the regional ambulance supervisor and asked that whenever a call came from their neighborhood, the group should be notified via pager so they could rush over immediately.
The supervisor just laughed at him. He said, “We aren’t looking for advice or ideas. Go study, kid, or go run a falafel stand,” and threw him out of the office.
“United Hatzalah”
But with a bit of classic Jewish chutzpah, he decided to buy special scanners to listen to the emergency dispatches himself. If he heard a call in his area, he would run. He and his friends split up the shifts to monitor the radios. The very next day, he heard a report of an accident on a nearby street involving several people.
He ran there as fast as he could and found an elderly man bleeding heavily from his neck. He quickly took off his kippah and used it to apply pressure, successfully stopping the bleeding. When the ambulance arrived fifteen minutes later, he handed over a living patient. Two days later, he visited the man, who hugged and kissed him for saving his life. This experience gave him the drive to establish “United Hatzalah,” built entirely on volunteers ready to drop everything and save lives at any hour, anywhere.
United Hatzalah acquired specialized motorcycles equipped with everything an ambulance has except the stretcher. Every volunteer has technology on their phone that shows the fastest route to the call. They’ve reached a point where it takes only three minutes from the call for volunteers to arrive and provide first aid. They save hundreds of lives every year, ensuring that when the ambulance finally appears, they are handing over a stable patient.
A few years ago, Eli received a call from two Muslims in East Jerusalem who wanted to meet. One shared that his father had a heart attack and died in his arms before the ambulance arrived. He asked to set up a Hatzalah branch in East Jerusalem to be part of the national lifesaving network. Eli agreed, discovering that this project unites Jews and Arabs in a single mission: saving lives.
This organization now operates throughout Israel and has been replicated in other countries, including far-off India. It all stems from that sense of mutual responsibility that beats in the hearts of good people who care for their neighbors and their community.
Collective Responsibility
This idea of taking responsibility and caring for what happens around us is found in this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Shoftim.
At the end of the portion, we read about the “Egla Arufa.” The Torah commands that if a body is found in a field and it isn’t known who killed him, the High Court in Jerusalem sends a delegation of five judges to measure which city is closest to the body. The elders of that city then take a young heifer to a valley and perform a specific ceremony. The elders wash their hands and declare, “Our hands did not spill this blood, and our eyes did not see it.”
Many people know the phrase “I wash my hands of this,” meaning “I am not to blame for this situation.” This expression actually comes from the Torah, from this ceremony where the elders washed their hands as a sign that they were not responsible for the shed blood.
Rashi immediately asks: Would anyone actually think the elders of the court are murderers? Rather, it means, “We did not see him and let him leave without food or an escort.” Rashi explains that while no one suspects the judges of murder, they are responsible in a broader sense for ensuring such things don’t happen. If they had provided food and protection for travelers and hadn’t allowed criminals to roam free, this wouldn’t have happened. Therefore, they must bring an atonement and declare they did everything in their power to prevent it.
But it’s not just the responsibility of the local elders. The Torah continues, “Atone for Your people Israel.” Commentators explain that when a tragedy occurs in the Jewish nation, it is the collective responsibility of every Jew, everywhere. Therefore, a general atonement is needed for all of Israel.
Join and Save
What is the lesson for our daily lives?
The Rebbe explains that the law of Egla Arufa teaches us to feel responsible for every Jew who is “fallen in a field” in a spiritual sense. The Torah says, “You who cling to the L-rd your G-d are all alive today,” meaning a Jew connected to G-d is truly alive. Unfortunately, many Jews are lost and have no overt connection to their Judaism. We cannot say “it’s not my problem.” It is the responsibility of each and every one of us.
In 1987, the Rebbe spoke about how in New York City alone, there are thousands of Jewish children receiving no Jewish education. The Rebbe quoted a phrase from Lamentations describing the value of a Jewish child: “Bnie tziyos hayekarim, hamesula’im bapaz, The precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold.” Gold comes in many grades, and “fine gold” (Paz) is the most precious of all. The Rebbe asked with great pain: Is it possible that no one is doing anything to ensure these “precious children” receive a proper Jewish education?
We must join the spiritual “Hatzalah.” We shouldn’t wait for an emergency. We should take the initiative to find that Jewish child who might not even know they need help and connect them to their heritage. You don’t need a motorcycle or a bright orange vest for this—just a bit of goodwill can connect many children to the Jewish people.