Judgement and learning in parallel

This week marked the first official week of classes. It entailed increased stress levels, meeting many new faces and personalities, and exploring neuronal connections that haven’t been active in a while. Also intrinsic to the first week of school is learning again how to sit in a class and actively listen and participate.  Many of the people with which I interacted were fleeting; we met and then both moved on to wherever we were heading. However, some of them made an impact, and their spark has stayed with me as I continued through the week.

Two such people stand out. One approached me as I was working after class one afternoon, asking what I was doing. I shared and she immediately offered to serve as a sounding board, listening and offering advice to my swirling ideas which I couldn’t concretize. By the end of our 10 minute conversation, she had given me useful insight and I, hopefully, had in turn offered a respite from the intensity of her day. 

The second interaction was out of necessity. While leaving HUC to go home, a friend and I found that his car had a flat tire. Knowing that the wait time would be longer than a few minutes, we decided to plant ourselves in the sun and wait. However, knowing I had a call in the not-so-distant future, he went inside to see what he could do. A few minutes later, one of his friends came out and offered me a ride home. I accepted, and we spent the next 25 minutes discussing life, HUC and ourselves, on the way to her house. Once my call finished, we continued to talk and discovered that we both enjoyed text, and were excited to learn in a different way.

Both interactions left me buoyed with the knowledge that not only do people take time to warm up, but that these people will be both classmates/colleagues, and friends. They will be my confidants, my sounding boards, and my sparing partners. This week’s parsha is again talking about the legal codes and how we must live as we go into the land and work to establish ourselves. Deuteronomy 17:8-13 reminds us that we have judges/legal guidance already set up for us, that we must simply utilize it. If something is too difficult for us to judge, we must take it before the Levites/Priests and let them judge, according to God’s will/passed on decree.

Although I am not comparing these new classmates to Levites/Priests, there is something about their greater levels of knowledge and simple experience that compels me to turn to them on questions of text, halacha (Jewish law), Jewish practice, or living. They have already lived through this year, with the wisdom to accompany it, so it seems logical to use their insight. Not necessarily judging legal doctrine, they are judging life doctrine instead. As the high holiday's approach, I am reminded of the importance of judgement, and recognize that these people will serve as one way I can look inward to myself.

The parsha also allows us to establish a king over ourselves, should we desire one, but to make sure that king is also desirable in God’s eyes. He should rule with a law book, but he should not become haughty and think of himself as any better than anyone else. People in power tend to develop a complex, in that they are better and more learned or simply greater than others. One thing that these new acquaintances reminded me, along with a few rabbis, was that I must remember that I am just like any other person. The title rabbi may one day be attached to my name, but I am still just Elana Nemitoff. I must not take the title, the mantle of the rabbinate, and allow it to change me so profoundly that I develop a sense of self-righteousness. Rather, I must use the mantle to help others, while simultaneously remembering who I am and how I want to be in this world.

May this Shabbat bring learning and understanding, of yourself and your position. May you find people who can serve as your judge and confidant, who make your life more complete and whole.

Shabbat shalom!

Parshat Shemini, D'var Torah

Although it's from a few weeks ago, here is the text of my D'var Torah!

Shemini D’var Torah

Elana Nemitoff

Shachrit, 4 March 2013

Silence.

Silence is uncomfortable. Silence is painful. Silence is funny. Silence often has a reason.

In Parshat Shmini, Leviticus 10:3, we hear, וידם אחרון, Aaron was silent. Why? This occurs after Aaron’s two sons bring אש זרה as a sacrificial offering and are swallowed by God. Aaron is represented as silent in the following moment, as God dictates that God will be sanctified through these two boys, saying בקרובי אקדש ועל-פני כל-העם אכבד. The Torah continues with the disposal of the bodies, and in verse eight, God begins speaking directly to Aaron, telling him the rules of what he can and cannot imbibe.

However, looking back at 10:3, Aaron has still not uttered a word. Why not? Is he silent because of his leadership role? Or, is he reacting to Moses’ retelling of God’s chilling words that he will lose his sons to God?

Most of the medieval commentators had different interpretations of Aaron’s silence. Rashi says Aaron is silent in order to receive a reward - aשכר טוב על השתיקה. Instead of blaming Aaron, Rashi suggests that Aaron directly received the gift of the word of God, which until that moment had only come to him through Moses. Aaron might suffer from the deaths of his sons, but the reward is greater than the pain.

I disagree with Rashi and am inclined to agree with Ramban who offers two suggestions for why Aaron is silent. One is that הוא בכה ואחר-כך הוא וידם, he was crying loudly and ceased once Moses stopped talking. He listens. The other interpretation, using Lamentations 2:18, אל תדום בת-עיניך, saying, don’t let the apple of your eye cease, is that the word וידם actually means cessation and not silence. Aaron stops crying but isn’t silent. Ramban’s assertion is that Aaron must grieve privately, not that he must cease his pain.

    Another interpretation from Midrash גור אריה (vayikor yud bet, bet) suggests that Aaron is silent because Moses had already told him of his sons’ impending deaths and he had time to process the pain. He didn’t need to call out. Ramban still seems to have the strongest argument, as pain is pain, even when expected!

    A more humanizing interpretation comes from Matthew Berkowitz of JTS. He suggests that Aaron is silent in a moment of humility, showing him t as a role model for how to bear pain and mourn. Ron Wolfson, writes that the bible often shows people wailing in pain. Yet he also writes that when people first hearof a familial loss they go into shock and often don’t know their emotions or just go through the motions. It would seem that is Aaron’s fate. Aaron is distraught over his son’s deaths. His silence is not passive acceptance or anticipation of a reward. Rather, it is him taking a moment to internalize the memory of his son’s.

    In our lives as Jewish professionals, we will often work with individuals who have suffered harrowing losses. Our job, which we see from Aaron, is both to allow the outburst of tears, anger, frustrations – whatever emotions we may find peope displaying – and give them time to recall the positives of the deceased individual’s life. Not only that, but we must be the example, caring for our own grief as well. Aaron takes the opportunity to mourn, however short it is, in order to continue on in his role as high priest. We too, have and will continue to have taxing roles in our community. However, unlike Aaron, we must recognize that it is not only acceptable, but necessary to take the time to grieve appropriately. Wolfson suggests that only when one takes the time to grieve, can life move on. Otherwise, one remains stuck in a constant dead-hold of depression and denial.

    Therefore, we must recommend, both to others and ourselves, that time is necessary when it comes to grief and mourning. The initial outburst, as well as the after-effect of shock or other emotions are all normal. They should be cared for delicately, and only after the fact can one truly return to everyday life. Aaron teaches that life moves on, but we must listen to our hearts and pause a moment or many moments to recognize our sorrow. In the periods of שבעה, שלושים, ירצית, יזכור, we slowly return to our lives. We return to our lives having taken care of the pain we felt. We allow the pain to continue, but in doing so, we also make room for the memories of our loved ones. We take Aaron’s example and learn to continue on, but as we do, we will always remember.

Judgement day

 

Reading Vidui, or the confession part of the service, I was struck by the words in the Machzor, the prayer book. The following is the poem that emerged from that:

Each year we repent

Ask forgiveness, apologizing, lamenting, beseeching—

The potential we are bestowed with, that inwardly we possess, we did not fulfill.

The אחריות, responsibility, to our fellow man is still incombent upon us

And yet, we’ve reached this day

The most holy day, שבת שבתון, the day of judgement.

Here we stand,

Before you—

            Incomplete

            Unwhole

            Unsure.

But here.

We are indeed present,

accepting you,

            struggling with the past

looking with open heart to the new year.

Hear our prayer;

Accept our prayer

Listen.

We are ready.

This year, we will try to do better.

This year, we will not stand idly by our neighbor.

This year we will deal honestly.

This year, we will act in love justly.

I have done wrong, an entire alphabet of woes,

But so too have I done right.

Help me, guide me, encourage me, O God.

Today I stand before you in judgement

Prepared for repentence

Prepared for understanding,

Knowing I have failed.

But in that, I know I can do better.

I WILL do better

On this Yom Kippur day

I pledge to do better—

            on myself

            to my friend

            my neighbor

            my community

            to my world

סלח לנו, מחל לנו, כפר לנו.

Forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement.

Amen.