Parshas Tzav – Preparations

Perhaps the most honest statement a person today could express about this week’s parsha, and many of the parshios in Sefer Vayikra, is a confession of ignorance. We can imagine the sensations of holiness. We can conceptualize the ebb and flow of the offerings. We can discuss every detail of the necessary prayers and rituals. But, in truth, for most of us of the modern era (and even the not so modern era), the actuality of bringing live animals to a priest for him to slaughter and cut up and burn is extremely foreign. Indeed, as residents of a Western culture, one might even feel a negative taint to the concept - perhaps because we have come so far from being an agrarian society.

 

So what can one share in a Dvar Torah on the parshios of Sefer Vayikra? The sanctified rituals of the holy offerings may be distant from us, but the work of avodah is not. We may not serve Hashem in the same way as our ancestors, but we dedicate ourselves to His service in ways unique and significant to our own generation.

 

Parshas Tzav includes a description of Aaron and his sons’ investiture into the priesthood. This meant Moshe dressing them in their special garments and anointing them. This meant Moshe preparing offerings and burning them. This meant Moshe anointing the priests again, this time with oil mixed with blood from the altar, before they then consume the sacrificial meats.

 

The investiture of Aaron and his sons into the priesthood meant Aaron and his sons being instructed to remain in the Ohel Moed for seven days: “…until the day of the completion of your investiture days, he will inaugurate you for seven days. Everything done today, Hashem has commanded to be done [seven days], to make expiation for you. You shall remain at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting day and night for seven days, keeping Hashem’s charge—that you may not die—for so I have been commanded.” (8:33-35).

 

In order for Aaron and his sons to go through the full process of investiture, to achieve the full level sanctification, they must repeat the process dictated in Parshas Tzav for seven days. This week-long preparation resonates in particular at this time of year when our lives are full of preparation and repetition. Clean a room, and clean it again, and clean it again until the final check. Detailed preparation and waiting… waiting to get to a point of being able to perform our ritual celebrating the freedom of becoming Avdei Hashem.

 

Our avodah, particularly at this time of year, doesn’t necessarily feel like the concept of avodah discussed in the Torah. We talk about our tefilla being the equivalent to the avodah in the Beis Hamikdash. That is avodah as service, but avodah also means work. In the first half of Nissan, whether you are working on preparing your house or reviewing and mastering all of the laws of the holiday, the work is real, and real work can feel tedious and repetitive, especially when one studies the same texts year after year. But such repetitiveness plays an important role in our preparations.

Aaron and his sons spent seven days going through the same service in order to prepare themselves to be the spiritual leaders of klal Yisrael. Every day they were dressed in their vestements, and everyday they listened to Moshe instruct them on the rites of the sacrifice, and everyday they ate the meat of the sacrifices that Moshe brought. These were men chosen out for their spiritual greatness. These were people who had already been working on preparing themselves for their roles.  How easy it would have been for them to get frustrated at the repetition of their passive roles during these seven days. “And Aaron and his sons did all the things that Hashem had commanded through Moses” (8:36).

 

The process of preparation has its own level of significance and importance. For each day that they stayed in the Ohel and repeated the process of the day before, they garnered a more profound understanding of their responsibilities. Preparation is never just a means to an end, but rather a process unto itself. It may get frustrating. It may be challenging. But it must be viewed for its own inherent purpose and benefit.

 

There are many people who rejoice at the idea of going away for Pesach. The idea of not spending hours cleaning multiple rooms or “turning over” the kitchen seems enviable, and yet there are few Jews one would meet who do nothing to prepare their homes, because the process, too, is part of the celebration.

 

Wishing you all a good Shabbas, and a Pesach that is kasher and sameach and spiritually uplifting.

 

Parshas Vayikrah - Just Salt Here

My children tend to use an excessive amount of salt in their food. No matter what is served, their first instinct seems to be to grab the salt-shaker and pour. In a world where the supermarket offers a diverse selection of salts, they are generally out of touch with the incredible properties of this mineral.

In Parshas Vayikra, salt is mentioned in one pasuk - which, in a parsha that seems quite repetitious in its wording, should draw our attention. “And all of your meal offerings you shall salt; you shall not omit the salt of the covenant with your God, with all of your offerings you shall offer salt” (Vayikra 2:13).

Vayikra 2, where this verse is found, is a discussion of the Mincha offering, which accompanied the sacrifices. The mincha offering was a meal offering that was generally composed of flour, oil, and frankincense.. and, it seems, salt.

Commentators such as Rabbi Shimshon Rephael Hirsh make it a point to note that there is no bris related to salt but rather that here the Torah is comparing the covenant between Bnei Yisrael and Hashem to salt. The metaphor here is to the preservative nature of salt, which can conserve food for exceptionally long period of time. The bris of Hashem, the Torah and His promises to the Jewish people, is that which sustain us.

Rav Hirsh notes that salt is both a preservative and a corrosive, and, therefore, states: “If we…remember that decay is nothing but the working of the beginning of a new structure, we can take salt generally to represent unchangeableness. It closes an object into itself, and renders it not susceptible to exterior changing influences. To that extent it completely expresses the idea of bris, the basic underlying meaning of which [is]…to be separated and apart, quite independent and unaffected by outside influences.”

There are many fascinating characteristics one can discuss about salt. Most famously, it is an essential element in food preparation, not only because it enhances both taste and texture, but also because it acts as a binder.

 Additionally, when studying the Torah, one finds that salt has a linguistically fascinating feature. The Hebrew word Malach (salt) is a homonym for Malach, which means rule. The covenant between Hashem and Bnei Yisrael, His specific constitution (lhavdeel) for our people, is our preservation. The Torah is ever enduring. One could say further that our minhagim and our traditions are that which enhance the taste and texture of our lives. Finally, the decree to salt is reserved for the mincha offering, for the offering that accompanied almost every other type of sacrifice, because the karbanos bound us to Hashem and raised up our love for Him.

 We do not have a Beis Hakidash today, and we may have a hard time envisioning the actual offering of the avodah. Nevertheless, we place the salt upon our tables and we dip our challah in salt so that we, too, can be constantly reminded of the incredible power of the Torah and the ever-enduring relationship of Hashem and His people.

 

Shabbat Shalom.

Parshas Ki Tisa – It’s Really About Bechira

The incident of the Golden Calf is one of the strangest narratives in the Torah. How could everything degenerate so fast? How could Bnei Yisrael go from hearing Hashem’s voice at Har Sinai to demanding that Aaron make an idol for them, and how could Aaron actually help them?  And one last question might be, why does it seem as if Hashem is surprised; couldn’t Hashem have sent Moshe earlier to correct their mistake?

The Chait Haegel, the incident of the Golden Calf, is a critical moment not just in Jewish history, but in the development of the relationship of Hashem and Bnei Yisrael. In some ways, one could say that it is a crucial narrative to understanding the concept of bechira, free will.

“And Hashem said to Moshe,” Go, descend, for your people whom you have brought from the land of Egypt have acted corruptly. They have quickly turned away from the path that I have commanded them; they have made themselves a molten calf! And they have prostrated themselves before it, slaughtered sacrifices to it, and said: ‘These are your gods, O Israel, who have brought you up from the land of Egypt.’ And Hashem said to Moshe: ‘I have seen this people and behold they are a stiff-necked people’” (32:7-9).

Why does Hashem tell Moshe as if Hashem had not known what was happening? After all, Hashem is omniscient. Hashem was aware of the actions of the people before they were fully aware of their own actions. The intent of the people is explained as the people’s panicking over a miscalculation of when Moshe would return, so all Hashem had to do was demonstrate that Moshe was fine or send Moshe down early. Instead, Hashem let the people run their course.

 Forty days earlier, Bnei Yisrael made a choice that, according to the Midrash, was not 100% a choice. At Har Sinai, Bnei Yisreal accept the Torah when they declared Naaseh v’nishmah, we will do and we will listen. But, according to the Midrash, they accepted the Torah with a mountain over their head, with a threat of destruction. Commentaries who discuss this midrash discuss its impact on the concept of bechira, free will.

 Receiving the Torah at Har Sinai was an exceptional moment in many, many ways. The very nature of the world was altered at that moment. The desert mountain sprouted flowers. Lightening was seen and thunder was heard (a poetic take on the text – sorry).  It was now the time to enter into the era of the Torah, and so, on some level, even bechira was suspended.

 Forty days later – forty days into having accepted the covenant with Hashem – the nature of the world was back in order. The people had full bechira, and, therefore, Hashem could not intervene.  And since the people acted of their own free will, Hashem could, and did, react to their choices (which, of course, put in motion so many other critical moments to the world, as it was designed).

 The Chait Haegel was Bnei Yisrael’s first great misstep, but – as all parents know – one has to let a child make mistakes in order for them to grow. Falling is part of learning to walk.

 There are many questions one might ask on the text of Shemos 32, both because one wants to understand how those who, only a little over a month before, had heard Hashem and accepted the Torah could cry our for and celebrate an idol and because the text itself is filled with fascinating nuances. And in this, too, there is a lesson.

 Life is not simple. No person and no people act from one singular motivation. Hashem is aware of all of the factors that impact each and every one of us, as an individual and as a nation. But Hashem leaves it up to us to choose our responses, to put our choices into action. We do not control the shape of the world, but we have been given the ability to take an active role in shaping our individual lives. 

Parshas Titzaveh - The Significance of Color

Small children often think, perhaps jokingly, that the lives of their parents or grandparents was once in black and white, like the old pictures. It is a cute joke or a sweet inquiry on the part of naïve children who believe that all grown-ups are old and color is a modern day invention. In some ways, however, thinking of the past as a monochromatic world is not limited to children. It is not just the fact that our own personal memories are more subdued than real life. The 21^st century feels bright and vibrant and pulsing with attention seeking behavior. Every step “forward” in technology feels like it changes the spectrum of the life we live. In 2019, there was an article about students at MIT creating “the blackest black,” and, in 2020, there was an article about students at Purdue creating the “whitest white”; we seem to believe that we actually have the power to create improved color.

 

And so it is that we often think of the ancient past in faded tones. We have a natural instinct to think of the men and women wandering in the dessert dressed in neutral tones, in grays and tans and beiges. Parshas Titzaveh, however, reminds us that the most spiritually elevated of our ancestors was swathed in lush color. The garments of the kohain gadol were not somber, but rather were richly worked with blue and purple, crimson and scarlet, and, of course, gold. The Choshen Mishpat was deliberately stones of different colors.

 

So what? It isn’t particularly revealing that they created color in the wilderness, that the Mishkan and the bigdei kahuna (priestly garments) were designed to be beautiful. What can we of the 21^st century learn from this? We aren’t building the Mishkan. We have token kibbudim (honors) for those we recognize as kohanim since we do not have the Beis Hamikdash. And we have no kohein gadol for whom to produce magnificent garb. Perhaps, however that there is a reminder of the basic Jewish value of embracing and creating beauty. This is not an aspiration of art for art’s sake or fashion for vanity, but art and clothing for elevation. Hashem wants us to emulate His ability to create. In many people, it is a driving force of their neshamos.

 

From an outside point of view, particularly in our “advance technological age” with its flashing lights and blackest blacks, the religious world looks austere. It looks old-fashioned and thus muted. In many ways, our own communities strive for that appearance as a contrast to the outside world. And it is a value of our nation to maintain a separate identity, a distinguished appearance that sets us apart and maintains our traditions.  

 

In some ways, however, our traditional communities have been creating their own blackest blacks and whitest whites. When we learn about the flash and color of the bigdei of the kohain gadol and the Mishkan itself, there is, perhaps, a reminder, that color is beautiful. Color brings joy and joy brings gratitude and seeing dignified, richly hued clothing, like seeing a glorious sunset or a beautiful rose, provides an opportunity to thank Hashem for the pleasure of sight.

 

In describing the clothing of the kahain gadol, Parshas Titzaveh also details the creation of the choshen, of the breastplate that bore twelve precious stones. Each stone represents a different tribe, and each stone had its own unique color and characteristics  - and it is interesting to note that some of the stones are multi-colored. The beauty of the Jewish people is our diversity within the same world, how there are “70 faces to the Torah.” We all share the same goal, the desire to serve Hashem and to elevate the world we live in, but how we do that is unique. Those unique shades of being, the colors of who we are, are what represent our people at its most elevated state.