Two Sides of the Same Kan

Have you performed the mitzvah of shiluach hakan, sending away the mother bird before taking the eggs?

Occasionally, I get a call from someone who discovers a nest in their yard, and they want guidance on how to fulfill the commandment. After all, the Torah promises long life as the reward for fulfilling the mitzvah.

It’s not that easy.

The nest - and hence the eggs - cannot belong to you. If it is on your property, then according to halakhah, it does belong to you, making it impossible to perform the mitzvah. What to do? You can simply go to ShiluachHakan.com, and they will try and connect you with someone nearby who will let you use the nest on their property.

For those of us who may find all this a little complex, what is the meaning and message of this mitzvah even if we don’t perform it?

The commandment seems to be about compassion.

Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim 3:48) explains that sending away the mother bird displays sensitivity, so she does not feel the pain of having to witness her children being taken. Ramban (Devarim 22:6) notes that humans are inherently needy and even selfish. We need to breathe; we need to eat; we need to sleep. Even during these moments, we must be sensitive to the needs of others and aware of how our actions affect those around us. God commands us to show sensitivity even to birds and certainly to our fellow humans.

If compassion is at the core of shiluach hakan, then why can’t we say so out loud? The Mishnah (Berachot 5:3) teaches: “One who says that sending away the bird is due to God’s mercy is to be silenced.”

Why? What’s wrong with saying God has compassion? Three times a day in the Ashrei prayer, we say, “V’rachamav al kol ma’asav – God’s mercy extends to all creation!”

The Gemara (Berachot 33b) explains that this is a warning against interpreting commandments. Mitzvot are “decrees of the king.” Whatever rhyme, reason, or rationale there might be for mitzvot, those are not our focus. Accordingly, while we all understand that compassion is at the core of shiluach hakan, we don’t want to talk about it too much or make it our focus.

I think there is a further complication. Why do we need a mitzvah of shiluach hakan in the first place? If we want eggs, and we want to be compassionate, why not simply wait for the mother to leave? That would be even more compassionate! As a rabbi of mine noted, “People say that they love fish. If they really loved fish, they would take them out of the river, give them a kiss, and put them back. People love their stomachs!” In the same vein, shiluach hakan cannot simply be modeling compassion.

How are we to understand the tension between what seems to be an obvious lesson in a more complex package? There are two components to the mitzvah of sending the mother bird away from her nest or, if you will, two sides to the kan. There is the human, and there is the divine.

At its most basic level, the mitzvah presents an opportunity for understanding God and the world we live in. Just like the festivals remind us of our past, and the rules of chesed are a benefit to society, shiluach hakan has a clear lesson: Be compassionate! We seek out ta’amei ha-mitzvah – the rationale for the commandments, to enrich our observance. Rambam and Ramban unequivocally see the lesson of sensitivity in the simple reading of the mitzvah.

On a deeper level, though, shiluach hakan, again like all other mitzvot, expresses the inscrutable command of God. “Gezeirah hi mil’fanai!” We may be tempted – and sometimes encouraged and enriched – to rationalize our observance, but shemirat ha-mitzvot is, at its core, heeding God’s command.

Rationalizing mitzvot may be satisfying, but when all does not work out according to plan, there is the potential for devastating disappointment. The Talmud (Chullin 142a) states that a possible cause for the apostasy of Elisha Ben Avuya, who left tradition and became Acher (The Other), was the linking of the mitzvah with its reward.

Elisha once overheard a father ask his young son to shoo the mother bird and bring down some eggs from the nest, thereby fulfilling the two commandments promising the reward of long life at the same time. The son dutifully climbed the ladder to the nest and shooed away the mother. On his way down the ladder with the eggs, he tripped and fell, broke his neck and died. Elisha thought to himself, “Where is the reward of long life and goodness of days for performing both of these mitzvot?” In anger, he rejected the rest of God’s law.

We can – and must - surely declare that God is merciful, informing our observance of shiluach hakan. But we cannot take this claim as the exclusive basis for our obedience. The attempt to understand God’s will does not give us greater insight into how God works. As one rabbi put it, “Elisha Ben Avuyah discovered that God does not prevent gravity from pulling a boy to his death, even while the boy is obeying a mitzvah that promises long life.” God may be compassionate and command us to be compassionate, but this does not mean we know how God’s compassion works

Shiluach hakan is a timely reminder to be compassionate. As the High Holidays approach, it cannot hurt to show God how we have internalized the Divine lesson to show more compassion to those around us. Simultaneously, we acknowledge that we don’t fully understand exactly why we perform the commandments. These two sides of the same kan represent the two diverse – even diametrically opposite - components to be found in all areas of Jewish observance. Sometimes we know, and sometimes we don’t know. Both sentiments shape our ongoing and ever-evolving relationship with Avinu Malkeinu, our Father and King.

If we keep striving for answers even when they are not forthcoming, I cannot promise a long life, but we will be blessed with a rich, complex, and meaningful one.