Thursday, April 18, 2019

Seder Thoughts 5779

A few simple thoughts for Pesach:

1) This is a passing thought that occurred to me as I was walking past my husband kashering the sinks and listening to a shiur on Torah Anytime. The speaker mentioned the 15 steps and the number stuck in my head, sort of highlighting on a question as to whether there is a significance to the fact that Passover is celebrated on the 15th of the month. We Jews have lots of numbers that have significance (4 on Passover, 7 for Shabbat, 8 for Bris....oh, you all know Who Knows One), and 15 has a number of interesting connections and connotations. In this case, however, I was thinking about the fact that the commandments connected to Passover began on 1 Nissan, when God began the process of unifying the people into a nation by giving them to power to declare the new month and thus set the calendar. On the 1st of Nissan they were given the commandment to bring a sheep into their homes on the 10th in order to prepare for the Exodus. So I think it is particularly interesting that just as there were 15 days to prepare for Pesach there are then 15 steps to the Pesach seder. 15 leads to Hashem, Yud-Hey.

2) I can’t really claim a mastery of Hebrew grammar, but I was wondering about Kadesh, the first step of the Seder. Why don’t we call it Kiddush, like we do on every other holiday and, indeed, every week on Shabbat?  Kadesh is a noun of statement - “Sanctification,” almost an imperative, make it holy. This comes at the beginning of the Seder as if to say, “Hold on folks, it’s going to be a long night, but it’s up to you what to do with the next few hours.” The Seder is an annual ritual during which we review the same booklet every year, and it can easily become a rote and mundane celebration, even when we add in the gimmicks meant to encourage children to ask questions and participate. Kadesh, we (the adults) have the imperative to elevate the evening and thus become empowered from it.

3) One aspect of Judaism that I love is the significance of Hebrew homonyms, and this chag brought two particularly to mind. Again with the caveat that there is no scholastic background to this except perhaps thoughts that I heard long ago that drifted into a recess of my brain and stayed there but that can no longer be accredited.

A) The first one I was thinking about was the word Pesach. In Ashkenazi tradition, the samech makes a similar sound to the saf and pey-saf-chet is the root for the word for open. So what might be the connection between the pascal lamb (which is really the translation, not Passover) and an opening. One connection might be that the Israelites put the blood of that sheep offering onto the doorposts of their homes, but that doesn’t feel to me like an idea that translates down through the ages. An idea that occurred to me is that there is a message to Jews of every generation that the offering of the Pascal lamb (or in our day just the service of the Pesach seder) is one in which we must open ourselves in order to be able to truly feel that sense of freedom that we are celebrating. Pesach is, let’s be honest, a lot of work (even for people who are travelling). At the seder, it’s time to let that go and feel the joy, the freedom of the soul, of reaching a destination and of a job well done and, mostly, of whole heartedly dedicating one’s spirit to something.

B) The second homonym I was thinking about was the word matzah. Matzah the food is spelled with a hey, but when you replace the hey with an alef, you have the root of the word to find. I remember how confusing this was for me when I first started learning Hebrew (along with the similarity between to see and to fear, which is also an interesting topic for another day.) There is often discussion before Pesach about the connection of chametz to arrogance, haughtiness and pride, and seeking these things out to remove them from our lives. Perhaps the connection of matzah(hey) and matzah(alef) is that once we get rid of the chametz and have matzah (hey), we have the opportunity to “find ourselves” so to speak.

C) Maror – ok, so I couldn’t think of anything here, but the three primary mitzvot are Pesach, Matzah, and Maror, so I will take a page from Rosh Hashana and make a connection to another language, just for fun. Maror sounds a lot like mirror. When we eat the bitter herbs, we are remembering our bitter past, but we are also destroying it through the act of mastication (chewing it up). As we get rid of our chametz we should look in the mirror at the things about ourselves that have turned bitter and get rid of them as we aspire to be a part of a holy nation.

Friday, April 12, 2019

Dealing with Mold (Metzorah)

The parshiot of Tazria and Metzorah describe something that is very difficult for most of us today to understand - a physical affliction brought on by a spiritual trespass. Last week’s parsha, Tazria, described the physical affliction, and this week’s parsha details how the affliction is to be cured and what to do when a similar affliction appears on a person’s home.

It would be easy to say that the understanding of tzaraas as a spiritual ailment was simply an ancient people’s way of dealing with the unknown. This is why the affliction is most often translated as “leprosy,” which, based on modern knowledge, is a terrible translation. Leprosy is a bacterial infection. It is a long and cruel disease that afflicts a person’s skin and nerves and can be contagious, but a cure and treatment have been discovered. The fact is that in modern day language, tzaraas, has no comprehensible translation because we do not live in an era where one’s haughty or unkind behavior results in strange spots on our skin.

Let’s look at the description of the house tzaraas. If, like bodily tzaraas, one were to try to name it as a modern problem I think it sounds like mold. Mold gets into the recesses of the wood and stone and the best way to stop mold is to get in and tear it out. And sometimes mold can spread everywhere. If we are discussing the house tzaraas on a spiritual level, the comparison to mold is actually still relevant. Mold grows in dark and damp areas, just like loshen harah and the jealousy/haughtiness that drives the urge to speak loshen harah thrives in conversations held in lowered voices and somewhat subtle insinuation. More significantly, mold reproduces via spores, air-born particles that find a nutrient rich surface and latch on. Like the famous analogy of the pillow feathers, disparaging words shoot out of our mouths and drift away on the wind, once uttered they cannot be collected. Those not-so-nice remarks latch on to the thoughts of another person who maybe already had a small sense of negativity and then fester and grow.

Mold is treated by removing the affected area and by making changes so that the environment is unfriendly to further growth. The job of the priest is not just to identify tzaraas on the wall of the house, but to instruct the owner what spiritual repairs need to be made so that the insidiousness of his/her negativity cannot further affect their lives.


Friday, April 5, 2019

For the New Mom (Tazria)

Have you ever thought, lahavdeel, that, in some ways, Sefer Vayikra is like Moby Dick. There’s a narrative that connects it all, but there are also large chunks of descriptive information. In Melville’s case, every detail about a whale you probably never really wanted to know, and in Sefer Vayikra, the extremely specific laws of the Mishkan, the service, and the laws of tumeh and tahara (impure and pure, although that translation creates drastic misinterpretations). So much of Torah is left to be fleshed out in the Oral law that one is almost forced to wonder why these detailed descriptions are included in the Written Law.

The vast majority of this week’s parsha concerns the spiritually wrought skin afflictions, tzaraas that is often translated as leprosy. However the first chapter has nothing to do with tzaraas, but rather with childbirth. (Side note: If anyone knows the connection between zayin-reish-ayin and  tzadi-reish-ayin, I would be fascinated to hear it. Zera - as in tazria, the name of the parsha, which means to conceive from the root for seed and Tzara – as in tzaraas, the name of the skin affliction).

Perek 12, which is only 8 verses long, is actually a particular favorite of those who like to wonder about gender roles in the Torah. In summary, when a woman conceives and brings forth a male child, she must stay separate from her husband for 7 days and then remains in a state by which she may not enter the sanctuary or touch any holy items for 33 more days. With a girl, the days of separation are 14, and she remains in a distinct state for 66 days. After these days, she brings certain offerings and life returns to normal.

There is a concept that it is a longer time because it is the separation of the double potential for creation. Also, with a boy, the mother is finished her separation in time for the bris on the eighth day. Oh, and rather interesting, the length of days was the fact that 7 + 33 = 40, is just about 6 weeks and, as all moms know, that’s just about when the doctor wants to see you again after delivery.

But let us look at the wording  of 12:4 and 5, that after the days of separation, the new mother shall “dwell in the blood of purification,” which, it is agreed by all, is a statement that she herself has no ritual impurity to her, but is actually in a unique state of being. Rashi describes the period of 33/66 days as being one long day, as if the day on which she was purified is not fully completed until the end of the time.

What an interesting term damei tahara is. If there is one constant in Torah life it is the Divine service, but post birth this is an activity that the new mother is not allowed to engage in. We can’t really relate because we don’t have the Temple or the Mishkan today; we don’t participate in the Divine Service. But, we do have our own version of the avodah, which is tefilla. In some ways, perhaps right here Hashem is instructing the women of Bnei Yisrael that it is OK to take it easy after childbirth, not to push one’s self and jump straight back into all of the rigorous demands of living according to a schedule. It is a subtle message that is overlooked by many, and really it is nearly impossible to fulfill in the modern era when we don’t live in large extended families or communities where everyone acts like one family. This is a beautiful message that I wish far more people would see when they read Vayikra 12 then that the Torah renders a different status for the birth of a male than for the birth of a female.