There is a fascinating display of the interplay between law, biblical narrative, and interpersonal relationships in the Torah reading for these weeks. There is a concept known as the “arev”, or guarantor, who accepts responsibility for the loan of another, and thereby becomes liable to pay in the event of default. On the surface, this seems unremarkable; the concept of a guarantor is not at all unique to Jewish law, and exists as a secular notion as well. As such, one might assume that the concept is purely intuitive and logical, and that Jewish law utilizes the universally understood principle, but makes no contribution to its meaning. That assumption would be a huge mistake.

The early commentaries of the medieval era all assumed that some prior premise was needed to explain the binding liability of the arev, and they clashed notably as to what that was, producing no fewer than six theories. To mention just some of those: Maimonides felt it was a function of the verbal commitment the guarantor expresses at the time of the loan, while others disputed that mere oral declarations were sufficient to create binding liability. R. Asher (the Rosh) is understood to have a more complex position: the guarantor is, through his commitment, linked to the borrower; when the borrower receives the funds, it is equivalent to the guarantor receiving them also (together with the liability to pay them back). The Rashbam, by contrast, sees the lender as the one connected to the guarantor; since he only acts based on the assurance of the arev, it is as if the lender acts as his agent, on his instruction. Accordingly, the arev is responsible to compensate the lender for his outlaid funds, if the borrower does not pay them back. According to the Ritva (based on a statement that appears in the Talmud), meanwhile, the mechanism is especially interesting: the arev is liable to pay for the loan because he actually did receive something from the lender – the satisfaction of knowing the lender trusted him enough to lend to another on his word.

As thought-provoking as these theories are, what is most fascinating is to consider that the Talmud provides a textual source for the binding nature of the guarantor’s commitment, and what is especially surprising about this is that it comes from a narrative section of the Torah. In Parashat VaYigash, Judah pleads with the Viceroy of Egypt (unaware that he is his brother Joseph) for the release of his brother Benjamin to be sent back to their father Jacob. Explaining his special connection, he declares, “For your servant has pledged himself (“arav”) for the lad” (Gen. 44:32). This language echoes the original phrasing that Judah used to persuade Jacob to send Benjamin to Egypt in the first place: “I will be pledged for him (“e’arvenu”, or, “will be an arev for him)”(Gen. 43:9). This earlier verse, declares an opinion in the Talmud, is the precedent for the binding nature of loan guarantees.

While there are other opinions, this one seems dominant, and its implications are tremendous. A technical, legal category, applied in the financial realm and on a superficial level shared by other systems of law, is connected on a fundamental, interdependent level to this intense moment of family drama. A loan guarantee is enforceable because, at one point in history, Judah was able to find the language (where his older brother had failed) to convince his distraught, previously bereaved father to allow his precious son to be into harm’s way.

This point takes on more depth when it is integrated with the various theories of the commentaries as to how the concept of arev functions. If it somehow the case that a verbal declaration of guarantorship is binding, or that the guarantor can connect with the borrower so that the latter’s benefit is identical to his own, or that conversely he can connect with the lender so that the lender’s outlay is his own, all of this is possible because of the trust Judah evoked within Jacob.

Apparently, whatever the concept may mean in secular law, Jewish law does not see the guarantor as simply covering the debt. He is taking on an interpersonal identification in a complete sense, one that exists because it was modeled by a biblical figure who had been through, at that point, many episodes of intense interpersonal drama. He had seen a brother sold into slavery, as a result of his own exhortations to other brothers who had been prepared to kill him; could he have done more? (One opinion in the Talmud suggests he had been a dreaded compromiser who must not be praised.) He had subjected a virtuous woman to a trial over actions for which he was responsible, and ultimately had to come forward to spare her unjust execution. When he spoke of accepting responsibility, what power, what life experience, informed those words?

Consider one more element: the view of the Ritva, that the arev is bound by the measurable value he gets from the confidence of the borrower. This too, must have been extracted from Judah’s exchange. The moment his words struck a chord within Jacob, when he moved from refusal to acceptance, because of Judah’s trustworthiness, a genuine bond was formed.  

This can perhaps be discerned in a statement Judah makes to Joseph: “For how can I go back to my father unless the lad is with me?” (44:34).  Commentaries note that this seems to be an unnecessary addition to his previous point. However, it may actually be the essence of his point: the faith my father has placed in me, and my complete commitment to that trust, is what has bonded me fully to my brother.

This notion of absolute interpersonal responsibility as a reflection of the connection an individual can feel for another, and all of the implications it can bring with it, is an ideal that Judah displays, and that makes all kinds of meaningful unity possible.

Parashat VaYigash is traditionally read in proximity to the fast of the tenth of Tevet, which commemorates the Babylonian siege on Jerusalem in 588 BCE, prior to the destruction of the Temple, an association addressed by the Lubavitcher Rebbe and others. The Temple’s destruction, the Rabbis assert, was a result of sinat chinam, of unjustified hatred, separation and alienation among the Jewish people. The commemoration of the tenth of Tevet is a recognition that we can be brought together through adversity, trapped by a siege that lets no one out of the city and no outsiders in; or we can connect to each other as an act of affirmative decision to identify and assume responsibility for each other.

This year, the fast of the tenth of Tevet approaches at a time when anti-semitism around the globe and armed forces in the Middle East have risen up ferociously to push the Jewish people into a corner. Whether they determine the nature of our connection to each other, or we do, is in our hands.

Sources:

Bava Batra 173b; Rashi, Kiddushin 6b; Rashbam s.v. gamar u’m’shabed; Ritva to Bava Batra; Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Ishut 5:21, Malveh U’Loveh 25:2 and Mekhirah 11:15; Rosh, Kiddushin 1:6; Ketzot HaChoshen, CM 40 and Shakh, #7; Machaneh Ephraim, Ribbit, 11; Resp. Avnei Nezer , YD, 150; Kuntreisei Shiurim, Kiddushin 8; Eretz Tzvi, 13:8; Resp. L’Horot Natan, III, 99 and V, 104; Resp. Sho’alin U’Dorshin, V, 94; Otzar Likkutei Sichot I, VaYigash 3.