Friday, March 28, 2014

Purity v. Impurity

 אִישׁ־צָר֥וּעַ ה֖וּא טָמֵ֣א ה֑וּא טַמֵּ֧א יְטַמְּאֶ֛נּוּ הַכֹּהֵ֖ן 

Vayikra 13:44 states that "a man is leperous and he is impure (unclean); the priest will proclaim him unclean." The rest of parshat tazria also focuses on impurity and purity. A man is proclaimed impure if he has any lesions or sores, or any physically visible skin difference, and woman once she gives birth. The priest is the one making the ultimate decisions, determining who is pure and who does not fulfil the requirements. After seven days, the priest comes
out of the camp and brings the impure one back into the community, if they are pure (their skin has cleared up).

This past Sunday, I left for a journey. Distancing myself from my community, I became a traveler, exiting the narrow places, the mitzrim, of my daily life in Israel. Although not labeled tameh, impure, I still desired the distance in order to gain perspective and clear my own head. The narrow places in my life became visible in the narrow straits I navigated over the five days on my bicycle. Conquering each passage, my journey brought me back to myself, with the final turns of the wheels bringing recognition that the purification was mostly complete.
(For more information, check out www.riding4reform.org)

Living in Hebron, a Palestinian cannot walk through the streets of the old city. The Israeli, Jewish government and military have concluded that the. Palestinians are threats to Jewish existance and control their every movement. They have been deemed tamehim, impure, and not allowed to leave their houses at certain times. 500 days during the early 2000's were spent indoors, with only a few hours every few months granted as time to obtain flour and ride. Simply put, the Jews determined the impurity factor and now serve as the high priest, deciding who goes where, when, and for how long.
(For more information on the complexities of Hebron, click Here

All three of these ideas connect to the ideas of purity and impurity. The Torah gives us a foundation for understanding how to make the community as cohesive as possible. We receive the knowledge of how to maintain wholeness, shlemoot, in the face of different bodily conditions. Using the basis laid down in Tazria, the two examples I present demonstrate the various ways of reading what purity means. Each community, each person, has his or her own definition of purity. As the Torah does not designate specific laws of purity for the present day with regard to more deeply seated "flaws", we as Jews, but more importantly as humans, must determine how we differentiate between purity and impurity.

This coming week, may we understand how purity and impurity are present in our lives, and take the time to cleanse ourselves, or our communities, from their impurity. May we also remember that someone's idea of impurity may be our idea of an obscenity, so we must negotiate the circumstances with dignity and respect.

Shabbat shalom.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Why don't people follow the Torah/Kashrut?

This week's parsha, Shmini (Vayikra 9:1-11:47), makes many daily activities pre-ordained down to the finest detail. One such activity is eating. The laws concerning food and its consumption take up much space in our Torah, with this parsha being the first time real rules for said consumption are handed down. We are commanded in which animals to eat and which to avoid, as they are abominations for us! Yet how did these seemingly arbitrary decisions regarding our stomach contents come about, and in the desert, no less? More importantly, if God wasn't human, how could God honestly make such important decisions about something we spend much of our lives doing, thinking about, or preparing?

First and for most, we must remember that these were ordinances handed down by God. For that very reason, we cannot just throw them out the window (one of my students asked today why people don't believe in Torah or Kashrut!). God's authority is too important, even to those who may not observe all of God's precepts, to simply ignore EVERYTHING. As food is one of those universally attended to things, its one of the aspects of the Torah that is considered even by people who don't consider the Torah to be the word of God and the law by which they must live their lives.

So what of these animals that we are allowed to eat, and which are forbidden? We can have animals with cloven hooves which chew their cud. We can have animals of the sea with fins and scales. We cannot have winged, swarming things that walk on fours. And the Torah specifics which birds we cannot have. Examples of each category are provided.

But wait, why? Why should you bother listening, reading, continuing to care about this? That was exactly what one of my kids asked, but in a slightly different way. We were explaining what Kashrut is (if you can figure out how to simply explain Kashrut without getting into too many details, you will gain my unyielding respect), and talking about the fact that some people keep Kashrut and some don't. Usually the ones that keep it wear a Kippah and are considered to be dati (religious). (Interesting that in Israel, if you're "religious" you keep Kosher. In America, most Jews I know, whether observant on a regular basis or not, keep some semblance of Kashrut.)

Anyway, one of our kids stops the teacher and asks: "But why do people not believe in Kashrut or the Torah?"

We all stopped and looked at him in shock. First of all, this is a difficult question to answer in any language. Second of all, the amount of insight it takes to ask a question like that is incredibly deep.

Both the teacher and I started to answer, but she quickly deferred to me. I began with one answer, saying that sometimes people don't believe that the Torah came directly from God, so they don't feel the need to follow that word to the letter. However, I wanted to do justice to different perspectives, and didn't know how to say it. Even though the teacher said I could say in English and she would explain, I didn't have the words in English either. One of the other aides suggested that a reason for not following Kashrut was that it is too hard. The number of restrictions it places on one's life, the way it describes exactly what one must do and how, feels overbearing and not at all like something that is easy to follow.

I'll admit that I personally have struggled with the idea of Kashrut. Growing up, we didn't have separate dishes and we ate mashed potatoes (with butter) with our steak. As I got older, I stopped eating red meat and now do not mix milk and meat. Now I only eat Kosher meat if I buy it. In my own home, I want two sets of dishes. For me, it is about those around me, my friends and family, feeling comfortable eating in my house. But I have to say my curiosity is peaked when I wonder what the actual restrictions are all about?

Are they because at the time the Torah was given to Moses, the unkosher animals were also the unhealthy or unclean ones? Was it another way to distinguish between the Jews and the non-Jews, making sure that Jews stayed in their own communities (it is easier to eat a certain way and ensure that it is maintained if everyone else around also does that). Is this another way for God to demonstrate God's dominion over God's people? Truthfully, I don't have an answer. I'm not sure that an answer must be reached. Although many people have difficulty accepting something without reason, maybe that is the whole point of Kashrut. Maybe it's another one of those things that we have to accept on faith. It may even be beneficial in the long run!

Therefore, in the coming week, consider how you eat. You don't need to start keeping strict biblical Kosher, but maybe be mindful of how you eat and what you are eating. Be thankful for it. take your time in processing it.

Shabbat Shalom!

Friday, March 14, 2014

Parshat Tzav and Purim



מי שניכנס אדר מרבין בשמחה
Whomever welcomes the month of Adar, increases in joy!
Saturday night (Sunday night in walled/fortified cities), begins the holiday of Purim. A holiday misconstrued as one for children and simply full of frilly or scary costumes. In actuality, Purim is a holiday meant for those of all ages. With the four Mitzvot attached to it, it ensures that there is something for every family member: seudah v'shtiya, kriat Megillah, mishloach manot and matanot l'evyonim (a festive meal, the reading of the Megillah, giving of gifts and giving to the poor. The meal should be relaxed and enjoyable enough, where you drink enough to not know the difference between the phrases 'cursed be Haman' and 'blessed be Mordechai'. The Megillah reading is a family affair, with the mitzvah requiring all to hear it (except for a certain small group of people). The gift giving is also something everyone can participate in, teaching the important lessons of giving to those in need and sharing what you have. All in all, a good holiday.

Yet here in Israel we have been celebrating Purim for the past month and a half, since Adar aleph came in. Meaning the catchy tunes are no longer amusing and the face point no longer appealing. Yet the hamentashin (oznei haman-Haman's ears here in Israel) are still incredibly tasty and the joy still contagious.

The question then becomes, why do we read such a seemingly dry parsha the week before such a happy and joyful holiday? Well, first reason is that the Torah was not designed to be read in conjunction with the holidays (we have special parshiot assigned to certain biblically ordained holidays), and so the reading continues along, week by week, a progression from the week before. 

So what's with this weeks parsha, Tzav, in vayikra 6:1-8:36? We get a continuation of the instructions for the myriad of offerings and are told what the priests can take from each offering. However, all of chapter 8 deals with the consecration of the Mishkan and it's attendants (the priests). We are told in detail how the high priest (Aaron) is to be dressed and the order in which he puts on each piece. As it is written in 8:7, וַיִּתֵּ֨ן
עָלָ֜יו אֶת־הַכֻּתֹּ֗נֶת וַיַּחְגֹּ֤ר אֹתוֹ֙ בָּֽאַבְנֵ֔ט וַיַּלְבֵּ֤שׁ אֹתוֹ֙ אֶֽת־הַמְּעִ֔יל וַיִּתֵּ֥ן עָלָ֖יו אֶת־הָאֵפֹ֑ד וַיַּחְגֹּ֣ר אֹת֗וֹ בְּחֵ֙שֶׁב֙ הָֽאֵפֹ֔דוַ יֶּאְפֹּ֥ד ל֖וֹ בּֽוֹ׃ 
And he put on him (Aaron) the tunic and tied the girdle and dressed him in the robe and gave him the ephod and tied him with the band of the ephod, with the ephod he girded him.
We're also instructed how that Aaron must be washed and at blood must be put on the tip of Aaron's right ear, on the thumb of his right ear, and on the big toe of his right foot (the rabbis likely had a field day with the particulars of that one!).

Here, I am not concerned with the rabbinic interpretation, but rather with the dressing up aspect, of changing into something else. At Purim time, we get to shed our everyday masks and become another being, acquire another identity. The priest in this week's parsha does a similar thing. He shed's his former clothing, the mask of Aaron the man and becomes Aaron the kohen, Aaron the high priest. This new identity sets him apart from all the other Hebrews. Unlike with Purim, where we can simply take off our costumes and re-don our former identity, Aaron has been formally given this position, unable to simply abdicate or say he doesn't feel like it one day.

Fortunately, we can abdicate many of the masks we consciously or unconsciously don. This Purim, I challenge you to look within and discover what masks you wear, what identities you portray. Decide what is appropriate and what you can choose to discard. Become a new person or re-discover the best you. Be like Aaron and wear your identity with pride, demonstrating the process and necessity that comes with some masks along with the excitement of newness and passion.

חג פורים שמח, ושבת שלום
Happy Purim and Shabbat shalom!

Friday, March 7, 2014

Vayikra: sins and offerings

If only we could get rid of our sins so easily. A simple sin offering and whatever you did is suddenly absolved. I personally admit that I have committed my fair share of sins and would find great relief in knowing that they are off my back and my board of good and bad actions was back to either only good or neutral. Especially when so much of what we say to others often comes without intention.

Yet, the Torah suggests that absolving sin is as simple as we would like. In parshat vayikra, 4:1, 13, 22, 27, we are given the guidelines of when to offer a sin offering. These include three things: the sin is committed unintentionally, it involves an action/act, and it must be breaking a mitzvah. For any bigger sin, where a person is aware of what they are doing, they must atone in much larger ways. Rashi clarifies our understanding of verse 4:2 by emphasizing that a sin offering is only necessary when the sin itself would require kerat (excision). This means that we only perform the sin offering if the gravest of sins are performed. For other sins, there are other ways of atoning, each one related to the kind of sin and how bad it is perceived to be.

Considering this idea in the present day realm, we are faced with a few questions. How can we be expected to atone when we don't have a temple in which to do so? What is the parallel method of making atonement if we cannot do a sin offering or any other kind of offering? What purpose does the offering serve in the first place, and why can I not just write it off?

Starting with the last question, we must always make amends. The wrongs we do to others are never simply reversible without action taken on our part. Active participation in life, and therefore in righting wrongs, is necessary to live the life of a good and honest person. But why the sin offering. Scholars at Yeshivat Har Etzion consider that the purpose of the sin offering is to make amends between a person and God, as the transgression that has been committed is harsh enough to cause a rift in that relationship. The sin offering is a physical act that a person can do to acknowledge the need to purify him or her self, and therefore reconnect to the holiness inside. Therefore, we must counter our negative sin action with a positive action.

Next we are faced with a more difficult question: how can we be expected to make a sin offering when there is no temple in which to make it? Many Jews do believe that there will soon be a third temple (in my lifetime!), eliminating the necessity of this question. However, as of this writing, the third temple has not been erected and we have not reinstated sacrifice (the question of what to do with prayer and t'fillot as a whole is a subject for many more conversations to come). Without a temple, we cannot ignore the necessity to atone, but must rather discover other ways of doing so. Although Yom Kippur is one option, it comes but once a year and does not allow for the regular self absolution that sin-offerings are meant to provide. Therefore, we must actively seek out alternative actions that negate our sin.

What are these parallel actions that allow us to make atonement. The hardest question to ask one's self, when we personally are the ones committing the negative actions. What is something that forces us to remove ourself from a situation and actively change our ways. The sin offering is completely outside of one's self and therefore forces a different perspective on the entire situation. Here too, we must discover an alternative method of sin offering. Therefore, maybe preparing some sort of food sacrifice. Or, were people to raise issue with an actual offering of any sort, an extra prayer or two. But truthfully, the sin offerings of today must come from within, as a personal delivery to God. As with most things these day, including the millennial generation, things must be individualized. Each person must have his or her own sin offering. We must each discover what allows us to repent for what we have done.

What, therefore, is your sin offering today? How do you make it and what does it mean to you?

Shabbat Shalom!