Shmini :Survival and Eight

This week's Sidra contains the painful elements of surviving a catastrophe.  Aaron mourned the death of his two sons, Nadav and Avihu.  Aaron's response to the horrific event was to fall into a dark quietude.  He was silent.  He did not weep, rip his hair and bemoan his pain.  He remained resolutely silent.

The word the Torah uses to describe Aaron’s affect is “Vayidom.”  The Hafetz Hayim notes that the word is akin to “dumam,” meaning something more than silent.  The word conveys the idea of feeling like a stone.  Aaron’s pain was so great, the Hafetz Hayim implies, that he was beyond reaction.  So overwhelming was his pain that he was stone-like.

Death is like that.  There are times when we weep and tear at our hair and other times when the pain ruins so deep that it transcends reaction.  We are blank, almost unfeeling.

In the Psalm we know as the Ashray, God is depicted as being “erech apayim,” of “long face.”  A ”long face” is one that is responding to the afflictions of life.  God reacts.  What we do makes an impact on the Holy One.

Most people when they are afflicted are similar; their face betrays their emotions.  In those instances we have clue on how to respond to their needs.

People respond to life's challenges in an infinite number of ways.  Each person is unique and their reaction to what life throws at them is also unique.  

Maybe the powerful lesson of this Torah reading is to learn to respect the differences that inhere in us all.  Perhaps if we each were to treat one another with deference and respect for their difference there would be an end to hatred.  

May God help us achieve this goal.


D'var Acher.

Shmini means eight.  That so the name of this week’s Torah portion.  

Why is a week seven days?  Because God created the world in seven days.  Is there any culture, anywhere on earth that does not observe a seven day week?  A more natural or obvious number would be five or ten.  Seven only makes sense coming from the Creation story.  And every place, religion, nationality, and ethnicity on earth observes the same week!

Remember the tale from Genesis: God created a universe that was fully formed and then left mankind with a single task, “to till and tend it.”  In other words, our task began on the eighth day.  Seven are also the days of shivah.  When they are completed we rise up to begin life anew.  This too is the eighth day.

In the mystic tradition it is said that we are now living in the eighth day.  This is humanity’s time and opportunity to perfect the world for us.  God gave us all the necessary tools and then left us to make what we will of our lives and the world.

Our parsha opens with: “It came to pass on the eighth day . . . today, the Lord will appear to you.”  And He has.

He has crafted a world that has all the necessary ingredients to perfect ourselves and help one another achieve that same goal.  God has given us the blueprint for life, Torah.  

Today is the eighth day of creation.  Celebrate Torah.  Let it and you merge.

Ma'asei: Life's Lessons

I. The first verse of the parsha records that these are "their goings according to their journeys, and these were their journeys according to their goings"(33:2). The language is odd as it is both redundant and reverses the two main ideas.

Bachya tell us that the first us that the first part of the phrase refers to the past. We study the wanderings and actions of the past to learn what works and how to behave. The second part refers to the future. This is the blank slate that is waiting to be written. Inasmuch as the past provides clues for us it does not mean that we are stapled to what has already happened. We do not have to repeat what we or others have done before. God has given us the leeway to be free from addictive or well-trodden pathways.

The word that means "goings", motza'hem, comes from the Hebrew root word that means "find". The goings that we experience must always be fresh and novel. In truth, we never know what we will find on any day. It is vital that we do not become depressed or so blasé about ourselves that life becomes something that we cannot wait to get over.

Another commentator, Sefat Emet, observes that when we move out of our past –the Egypts of our lives – and move toward the future –- Israel – we experience a growth in our neshama, soul. Leaving behind us the baser elements of our past allows our soul to reach new spiritual heights.


II. The reading details the division of land between the various tribes of Israel. The single exception was the tribe of Levi. They were to be dispersed among the existing cities of the Israelites. They had a special mission. The Levites were to present moral behavior to the rest of the populace. As strangers among the people their job was remain slightly apart from the rest of the community and register whether others were going astray. Their function was to be the rudder for each of these communities. At the same time, each Levite lived in galut, exile. They did not have a parcel of land to hold as their own. There was no territory possess or defend. For the Levites, it was a long, seemingly endless exile.

Perhaps the Levites are supposed to be an example to us. With their lives living amongst foreign faces they were to function with their peers, study Torah, observe the mitzvot, and maintain a purposeful existence. We must never forget our covenant.


III. Who is the only person whose yahrzeit, date of death, is mentioned in the Torah? Aaron. He died on the first day of the fifth month, Av. There are not many Torah readings that coincide with the actual anniversary date of that event. The yahrzeit of Aaron is an exception. The first of Av comes now in the summer. Why is this date so noteworthy?
1. The month of Av is a time of deep mourning for the Jewish people. Terrible tragedies occurred throughout the epochs at this time.
2. The Clouds of Glory disappeared from the Israelite camp on the day Aaron died.
Both historical notes are important because they are antithetical to the life of Aaron. Remember this was the man who strove to make peace between husbands and wives, children and parents, and even avowed enemies. Now that he no longer traveled in the land of the living surely the plight of the nation would worsen. The death of Aaron would only fuel the pain of the people.

No. The point of his yahrzeit is to remind us that nothing is ever hopeless. We must never give up. In recalling the life of Aaron we are supposed to carry on his legacy of mending the brokenness inside and outside of us.


IV. The Torah reading tells the Israelites to establish Cities of Refuge. The purpose of these Cities was to be a haven for people to flee from vengeful relatives. Say a person dropped a stone on his peer and they died. The family of the dead person may be so full of rage that they want revenge on the poor person that killed their relative. In such an instance the person who committees the manslaughter may run for safety.

In the Talmud it informs us that the road to the Cities must be kept clear of any obstructions and needs to be wide. The Court is obligated to straighten the roads to the Cities of Refuge to both repair and widen them. They must remove all impediments and obstacles. REFUGE REFUGE was written at every crossroads so that no one would miss the route to the City.
- Mishneh Torah

It is so easy to be judgmental and unforgiving. All we have to do is look at pothers with a superficial superior air and with the facts at our disposal pronounce them guilty. It is one of the gravest acts that friends and neighbors do all the time to one another. Perhaps the law of the Cities of Refuge is to teach us that we must not impede someone from teshuvah, repentance, by blocking their way. When we form an opinion of them that we share with others we effectively seal the pathway to healing. The roadway must be kept wide, like our opinion, because we may also be totally wrong in our assessment of them.

Haftara Insight:

To remember is important. We are not to hold onto grudges and bitterness but recall the lessons of the past. God warns His people that we should gaze at the miraculous past and then understand the power of God. We are not alone. We have not been abandoned. The great sins of our life begin with forgetfulness. Even the creatures of the first remember their father. Why do we not recall ours? The prophet concludes with a word that is familiar and yet need repeating: Return.

A Matter of Law:

Cain murdered Abel and God protected him from retribution. Following the same line of thought, even the most heinous crime cannot be summarily dispatched by a person. Law requires and investigation, a tribunal and justice. Vigilante justice is not justice but evil disguised as virtue. That is the deepest meaning of the Cities of Refuge.

Mattot: The Legacy of War

How painful is the reading this week! That the Israelites were given instructions on making war against the Midianites is at once heartredning and difficult to understand. After all, everything that we learn from biblical instruction is antithetical to the idea of war.

We are told to emulate Aaron, to use a single example. Aaron always endeavored to make peace between feuding people and groups. Further, so many of the prayers we utter beseech God to send us an era when there will be no war. We pray for the Messiah who will release man from such pain. The prophets exhort the people to stop hating each other. What then are we to make of these laws that tell us to fight against the Midianite nation?

Were the laws to preserve the good people from the clutches of those who would destroy them? Certainly the cultures that surrounded the Israelite were worse than immoral, they were amoral. They had not gripes about child sacrifice. They were unconcerned with brutal force being used against the weak. That which is evil had become good; acts of goodness were construed as evil. Was the only response to this utter disregard for human life to wipe them out?

Moses was ordered to dispatch 12,000 men to the front; one thousand men from each of the twelve tribes. We can only imagine the absolute pain of this leader, Moses, who had fought so hard to preserve human life throughout his career.

The Torah indicates the rationale for the war in an earlier biblical segment: The Lord spoke to Moses, saying, "Oppose the Midianites and attack them, for they opposed you with their wiles with which they beguiled you in the matter of Peor and in the matter of Kozbi, daughter of a prince of Midian, their sister, who was slain on the day of the plague on account of Peor (Numbers 25:16-17).

Perhaps the reason for waging war against the Midiantes was the survival of the nascent Jewish people. Could the Torah be speaking of the inability of the Israelites to morally conquer the Midianites? Had the Jews met them perhaps the Israelites would have turned their back on God and enwrap themselves in the ways of this evil nation? If this is so, consider how different the world would be today if God had not commanded the attack.

Think: Cannot we simply let people who think differently than we do (nations that torture their own people, rampant acts of brutality in subcontinents, murder camps for learning how to kill) live their own lifestyle? Is not religion about improving oneself and refraining from judging others? The way of peace is the way of letting others choose their own path, is it not? In Kings II, 15:16, a tale is told of a wicked despot, Menachem of Tirtzah, who attacked a town killing all the males and splitting open all pregnant women. What then? Is the rationale for fighting against evil to change the world for the better or at least protect the weak? Is it to stop the rampages of those who inflict pain and subjugate others? Defend the innocent from those who would use and exploit them?

Both reasons are correct. If we do not attempt to stop evil, it will eventually overtake us. We will ultimately become that which we hate. There is also the moral imperative that we are to champion the cause of the defenseless. As the past Prime Minister of Israel, Golda Meir once said, “To be or not to be is not a question of compromise. Either you be or you don’t be.” At a time when we are confronted with evil, equivocation serves the purposes of the enemy. Perhaps the world ought to have learned this lesson at the time of the Holocaust. Or the Armenian genocide. Or Pol Pot. Or in Rwanda. Or in Darfur…..Yes, we have a responsibility to fight for the lives and wellbeing of others. We are “our brother’s keeper.”

The passage from this week also reveals, through the great teacher Rambam, that even when fighting an evil tyrant, you must never attack on all four sides. There must be an escape route for those who do not wish to fight. What does this say about the war on evil? That we are to allow them an escape route?

There is no getting around the issue that while we are taught the moral duty to fight against evil there is always the potential that we can become what we dread most. By waging war we may come to like the perverse notion that we enjoy hurting others. That is perhaps why we are also directed to not indiscriminately hurt those who want to flee conflict. And later, when we come to Deuteronomy 20:19 we will learn that a campaign that deforests tracts of land is also forbidden. The idea of the Torah is that at all costs we must preserve our own humanity, even while fighting evil. Perhaps this concept is best put by Golda Meir. “I can forgive the Arabs for hating us. I can forgive them for killing us. What I can never forgive them for is making our children into killers.”




Haftara Insight:
The great election of the prophet Jeremiah is told. Called upon by God, Jeremiah feels unworthy. God answers him by saying that he makes no mistakes. He is far more capable than Jeremiah recognizes or is willing to acknowledge. The Lord then spells out to His servant what He wants him to do. While the words are intended for Jeremiah they really speak powerfully to us.

A Matter of Law:
Words, vows, promises bear great legal weight in Judaism. When we say we are going to do something it is critical that we fulfill or word. Else wise, one brings their reputation, their people, and God into disrepute. Words are never so simple meaningless as to have no bearing on others or the universe. If one makes a vow and cannot do it they must seek release from the Court of Law. There are two kinds of vows: shavua and neder. Both are referred to in the great service of Kol Nidre.

B'haalotkha

We are called Israel.

Our name is taken from the patriarch, Jacob, who refused to relinquish his hold on the Angel that assaulted him in the night. Jacob fought him. Who among us would do the same? Who would have the temerity to contest a Messenger of God? The name Israel is descriptive. It means he who has struggled with God and has prevailed. Genesis 32:29

Why not just leave well enough alone? Why wrestle the angel? Why grip him until dawn? Why refuse to relinquish hold on him until Jacob received his blessing?
Idea: Had Jacob not had this chutzpah, the Jewish people would not exist today.

Much later, in Numbers 36, the unthinkable happens. Zelophad dies. Zelophad? While he was a man who might have been swiftly forgotten by time, circumstances changed this. Zelophad left behind several unmarried daughters. The rules of inheritance of the Israelite nation stated that only males could be heirs. What did this mean for Zelophad’s daughters? That they would lose their rightful inheritance when they reached the Promised Land. They took their case to Moses. Moses heard their pleas and changed the law so that they would receive their family allotment when they finally arrived.

It is remarkable that the chutzpah of these woman changed law of Israel. They lived up to the real inner meaning of the name of Israel. They fought for what they believed they deserved like their forebear.

In this Torah portion, those who attended to the dead were denied participation in the celebration of Passover. At that time only people in a state of ritual purity could eat the Paschal sacrifice. Since the Angel of Death did not take time off for the Exodus holiday some Jews were going to be excluded. The Talmud states that the real complaint came from the people that were carrying coffin of Joseph from Egypt. Here they were involved in doing a great mitzvah…and prevented from doing another.

These impure folks took their case to Moses. Feeling deprived of participation in the community celebration they asked him if there was a way they could also be part of the mitzvah of Passover. Because they made the request, a second Passover was given to them one month later, Pesach Sheni. Like the daughters of Zelophad, they sought justice and received it. Like Jacob, they were willing to take a risk, and wrestle God, if necessary to be a part of the community. From just a few people, Israelite law was changed.

Why not remain silent? These men and woman did not want to be deprived of the mitzvah of the Paschal sacrifice. Still, why not be silent? Perhaps that is not what God wants from us. Maybe God wants from us a total and silent acquiescence. In fact, the Sages, of blessed memory tell us, this whole Torah portion only comes as a result of the merit, their holy chutzpah! God does not want out silence. He wants our voice. God wants our involvement. He yearns for us to be partners in a universe that continues to grow.

There is so much loneliness in everyone. In the Torah, Adam is so lonely he feels he might die without companionship. Moses is often spoken of the lonely man of deep faith. The solitude of Abraham is well known. Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto declares that even God is lonely.

Can it be that the initial question of God in the Garden of Eden – “Where are you?” never had a response. When Adam and Havvah hid among the trees of the Garden after eating the fruit God asked them the same question that has parsed the universe since that time. In reading the holy Torah we have heard the response to the hanging question, heneni, --Here am I-- several times. The giants among us answer: the Abrahams, Jacobs, Moses, bearers of the tomb of Joseph, the daughters of Zelophad and…..






Haftarah Insight:
There is a vision of a Golden menorah; the same one spoken of the the Torah reading. There is a noticeable difference, though. Here, the Kohen Gadol, High Priest, is wearing filthy garments - not the kind the Kohen Gadol ought to wear. That is because he symbolizes exile and suffering. Yet, God Himself demands that the adversaries of the Jews remove the filthy clothes from the Kohen Gadol and restore him to his glory. That redemption was demonstrated in the Hanukka story and will come again promises Zechariah.

A Matter of Law:
Under no conditions may we ever utter words of lashon ha-ra, gossip. See what happened to Miriam when she came to say some unkind - perhaps even true - words about Moses' wife? We are told to curb our instincts for gossip.

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D'var Acher

We are known by many different names; each name depicts a part of our personality or the relationship to the person who is referencing us.  It name might describe our temper, knowledge or any number of personality qualities.  Aaron is the paragon of modesty and peace-maker.  He was renowned for his ability to restore harmony when there was discord.  Though his determinedly kind disposition he invariably found ways to soothe fits of anger or jealousy.

Aaron spoke up for his brother Moses when Moses was too shy to speak with Pharaoh.  Aaron interceded when the Jews threatened one another during the building of the golden calf.  He patched up couples that were on the brink of divorce.

The Medzibozer Rebbe commented that when Aaron passed away, he was “gathered unto his people.” (Bamidbar 20)  This means, said the Rebbe, that he was so beloved that when Aaron died the entire people mourned, as the man of peace was no longer among them.

The Torah challenges us to ask, “What do I stand for?”  “How do people think of me?”  “What is the name by which I am known?”

The answer will depend on how we treat one another.   Torah tells us how to act but it is up to us to follow its teachings.

Shmini, Silence

We do not know what we do not know.

Sometimes we even do not know what we do know.

Man was endowed with reason. When the first being was cast into life in the Garden, the Torah teaches that Adam was created in the “image” and “likeness” of his Creator. Rashi commented that the first description means that the first man was cast into a certain mold. The second description, likeness, points to the man having the power of reason. It is our gift of understanding.

From the time when God took the golem-form from the earth and breathed into the Breath of Life to the moment of overwhelming lust to have open eyes to the universe we became people in search of ourselves.

We fervently desire to understand what life means. We want to know why we live. What is our purpose? That is why stories such as the one told here is Shmini are so vexing. They raise more question than provide answers.

Here, Nadav and Avihu, sons of Aaron, die. Near the holy altar of God they are enveloped by a conflagration that excoriated their inner being while leaving their body/husk intact. A pitiful father has watched his sons die. What does this passage mean?

Some scholars tell that Nadav and Avihu were drunk. Intoxicated, they approached the holy of holies and were punished by a burst of heavenly fire.

Others tell that Nadav and Avihu were presumptuous. They came into the holy of holies unbidden. For the trespass they died.

Another commentator expresses the belief that they offered up incense out of their zealousness rather than follow the instructions of their father.

What is the truth? The Midrash and Talmud are littered with numerous ideas about the death of the two young kohanim. Some make sense while others leave us incredulous.
God comes to father Aaron to have a word with him after the inferno that left his sons dead. Through Moses, He tells him, “I will be honored in front of all the people.”

B’krovai ekadesh. “The ones whom I love will be made holy,” said the Holy One.

At these words Aaron was silent. Vayidom.

Did Aaron understand what God meant? Was his silence the response to hearing the explanation of God? Mute acceptance?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * **********
Many, many years later a great Sage, Rabbi Yehudah, lay dying. His disciples arranged themselves around his bed and prayed for their teacher. They looked into the holy books, fasted and begged God to listen to their prayers and grant their leader life.

The servant of Rabbi Yehudah left the group and opened her heart before God. She prayed, “In the upper world they want our master. They call him. In the lower world the rabbis keep Rabbi Yehudah with their prayers. Listen, Lord, to the voice from Above. Let them be the stronger.”

She then took a jug and hurled it onto the ground so that all the holy men were momentarily distracted from their prayers. In that instance the Angel of Death kissed the venerable leader.

What did the maid servant do? Was she guilty of killing the holy rabbi? In distracting the Sages from their prayers she lifted the protective veil keeping Rabbi Yehudah alive. Was she to be blamed for his death?

One the Sages, Bar Kappara, investigated and found the girl. He saw what she had done and then commented, “Both angels and human beings were clinging to the holy Ark. The angels overpowered the humans and the Ark has been taken from us.”

Bar Kappara told his contemporaries that Rabbi Yehuda was like the holy Ark. They were both gone. What is gone is gone.

Yet, Bar Kappara did not blame the servant. He did not rail against the heavens. The end of the story closes abruptly.

Vayidom. And he was silent.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * **********
Rabban Yohanan ben Zakki was in mourning for his son. His colleague and friend came to console him. Elazar ben Azariah said, “A long time ago a king gave a subject a precious gem to care for and watch. Each day the man guarded the jewel and fretted when the king would one day return to reclaim his property.

“The same is true for you, dear friend. You had a son who was rich in learning, steeped in lore and law. Now you have retuned the loan.”

Vayidom.

One commentary elevates Aaron for his silence. It was not just a silence in the face of the judgment of God, although that would be enough. Before an event we must take precautions to avoid mishap. After such an occurrence what can we do?
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The son of the Gerer Rebbe died just before the sun set on a Friday afternoon, before Shabbat. No one wanted to tell the great leader of the loss. No one wanted to deliver the message on the sacred day until one follower, a devout and meek hasid offered his condolences to the rebbe. The rebbe listened and then said, “Shh. Nu? It is Shabbos.”

The day continued and until the sun set on Saturday the rebbe still sang and taught with great joy. When Havdalah came the rebbe ripped his clothes, sank to the floor and cried and mourned for the shiva. Silent until Shabbat had ended, the pain of the Gerer Rebbe seemed to now hold no bounds.

Could this be real? Did this actually happen?
Whether or not it did happen perhaps the rays of light that are expelled from the story tale teach a lesson about our life.

The Zohar says that whoever weeps at the fate of Nadav and Avihu when they read this story will not suffer the same fate. Perhaps the lesson of silence is about acceptance.