The Romans had thrown Rabbi Akiva into prison, and his disciple Yehoshua Hagarsi was permitted to bring him water — a small ration, carefully measured, just enough to keep an old man alive.
One morning the gaoler watched Yehoshua coming in with the jug and said, sneering, "Why so much water today? Are you planning to dig through the walls?" And before Yehoshua could answer, the gaoler seized the vessel and poured half of it into the dust.
Yehoshua carried what was left to his master. Akiva was faint, parched, waiting. When he saw how little water there was, he reproached his servant: "Yehoshua, have you forgotten that I am old, and my life depends on you?" The disciple told him what had happened at the gate.
Akiva heard this, and then — astonishingly — he asked for the water to wash his hands before eating.
"Master," Yehoshua cried, "there is not even enough for you to drink, much less to wash with!"
And Akiva answered, "What am I to do? They who neglect to wash their hands before a meal are judged worthy of death by our tradition. Better that I die by my own act from thirst than trample on the ruling of my colleagues."
And so, the Talmud records (Eruvin 21b; cited also by Maimonides, Hilchot Berakhot 6:19), Akiva tasted nothing until water was brought for his hands. The tradition of his fellow sages was dearer to him than the water of his life.