We’ve already learned that someone who accidentally kills another and escapes to a city of refuge is welcome to earn a living and may even bring their teacher or students with them to continue their studies. A mishnah at the bottom of today’s daf asks if more is possible: Can the person exiled to a city of refuge accept an honor?
In the case of a murderer who was exiled to a city of refuge and the people of the city sought to honor him, he shall say to them: “I am a murderer.” If the residents of the city say to him: “We are aware of your status and nevertheless we wish to honor you,” he may accept the honor from them, as it is stated: “And this is the matter (devar) of the murderer (rotze’ach).” (Deuteronomy 19:4)
It’s clear the rabbis imagine that those exiled to cities of refuge have the potential to thrive. In this case, the people of the city want to afford the accidental killer an honor — presumably a liturgical honor, like being called to the Torah, although this is not stated explicitly. Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz posits that the newcomer is a person of renown whom the residents wish to honor, but we might also imagine they just want to make the newcomer feel welcome in his new home.
When offered this honor, the mishnah explains, the exiled person is required to state explicitly: “I am a murderer.” Interestingly, the halakhah here requires the individual to self-reference as a rotze’ach, a word that implies the killing was intentional, rather than a horeg, a word for killer that does not imply intention and is usually used for people who must flee to cities of refuge. Why demand this word choice?
Help us keep Jewish knowledge accessible to millions of people around the world.
Your donation to My Jewish Learning fuels endless journeys of Jewish discovery. With your help, My Jewish Learning can continue to provide nonstop opportunities for learning, connection and growth.
The mishnah points to a linguistic clue from Deuteronomy 19:4, which refers to the law of the accidental killer — there unusually designated as a rotze’ach — as a devar, or matter. But devar can also mean word. The mishnah interprets this verse to mean that the accidental killer must utter a devar, a word, and that word is rotze’ach, murderer.
This explanation gives us scriptural justification, but the rabbis didn’t have to read Deuteronomy 19:4 in this way, and so we might reasonably ask why they did. Perhaps, in order to even entertain the possibility of accepting an honor, they felt the accidental killer must humble himself and accept public, verbal responsibility — and perhaps a measure of humiliation — for having killed another. Elsewhere, we’ve discussed how the city of refuge may be more a place of protection than punishment, but that doesn’t mean the rabbis didn’t think a measure of teshuvah was also necessary.
Once the killer has revealed himself, the residents have two options: Continue pressing the person to accept the honor or withdraw it. If, as is intimated in our mishnah, the invitation stands, the newcomer is now free to accept the honor. According to commentators he not only can, but should. Steinsaltz adds that having stated he’s a murderer once, “that is enough,” meaning he shouldn’t protest more and now accepts the honor.
Why do the rabbis even take the time to worry about the correct procedure for honoring a killer who has fled to a city of refuge? I want to offer an answer that takes us back almost two years to our study of Gittin 56. There, in the famous story about the destruction of Jerusalem, we learned:
There was a certain man whose friend was named Kamtza and whose enemy was named bar Kamtza. He once made a large feast and said to his servant: Go bring me my friend Kamtza. The servant went and mistakenly brought him his enemy bar Kamtza.
In that famous sugya, a host tried to kick his enemy bar Kamtza out of his party, and in order to avoid embarrassment, bar Kamtza offered to pay — first for his own food and drink, then for half the feast and finally for the whole party. The host wouldn’t budge and bar Kamtza was physically removed from the feast. The aggrieved bar Kamtza was not just angry at the host but also with the rabbis who witnessed what happened without intervening. According to the Talmud, this episode set in motion the events that ultimately resulted in the destruction of Jerusalem.
There is a stark contrast between that story and what the mishnah on today’s daf prescribes. In Gittin, the rabbis tell us that Jerusalem was destroyed because of needless humiliation and baseless hatred. On today’s daf in Makkot, when a person is offered an honor and says he is not worthy, the people extend the honor anyway, setting instead an example of radical love and acceptance.
Read all of Makkot 12 on Sefaria.
This piece originally appeared in a My Jewish Learning Daf Yomi email newsletter sent on April 20, 2025. If you are interested in receiving the newsletter, sign up here.
