Parshat Tazria: Kodesh from Dust and Ashes

"Man is formed in the image of the entire world – when he is dragged down by his material side he is the lowest of the low, since his form is most holy of all."   - Sefat Emet

This week’s parsha opens with the laws of separation for a woman after giving birth to a boy or girl.  Such laws, including the laws of family purity/menstruation are certainly intriguing – I began to understand the halachot (laws) and development of them throughout history by listening to a series of classes on the topic by Rabbi Ethan Tucker while still in college.  But while the development of the laws, social context, and history were expounded upon I did not take away from the class the underlying spiritual background of the mitzvoth associated with birth/menstruation/other bodily emissions (although the class does touch on this as well). 

So what is the reason for the need of such laws?  To briefly summarize Rabbi Mordecai Elon’s response: Impurity is not a curse, it is a lack, a deficiency….  The man or woman with a running issue of the flesh is unclean.  This is a biological period of inability to express life, to create life, to produce new life and bring it forth into the world.  The days of a woman’s separation are also a time of inability to express new life.  Impurity is something one lives with constantly, and one must constantly purify oneself from it.

We are Adam.  Not just “man” but the conception of what man should be.  Adam, the dust of the earth from which we came and with which we have the ability to become the highest living creatures.  Every act we do is a way to elevate the dirt that we are composed of or negate our purpose in this world by succumbing to the baseness with which we are made.  When we fail to follow the Torah we “drag down our material side…we are the lowest of lows.”  We are lower than the animals; we have used our God-given free will to deny His existence and to show our lack of desire to become close with Him.  But when we do just the opposite, when we decide that, yes, we are going to follow God’s laws from kashrut to family purity, we are elevating the dust from which we came to the most holy form of all. 

Parshat Shemini: “And they died before Hashem”

Chapter 10 of the book of Vayikra (Leviticus) has been the cause of much conversation and little agreement.  The question is on God’s swift action to kill Nadav and Avihu: What exactly was the sin of Nadav and Avihu? 

The Torah states (Vayikra 10:1-4): The sons of Aaron, Nadav and Avihu, each took his fire pan, they put fire in them and placed incense upon it.  And they brought before Hashem an alien fire that He had not commanded.

The Talmudic Rabbis, followed by the Midrashic Rabbis, have an array or other possibilities: They were drunk with wine (while performing the Temple service) (Leviticus Rabbah 20).  Perhaps they neglected to wash hands and feet upon entering the Temple, or perhaps they neglected to wear the priestly robes fashion in earlier parshiyot, or perhaps they were naked, various Rabbis put forth.  Others posit, They taught halacha in the presence of their teach Moses (Eruvin 63a & Yoma 53a) or They did not beget sons or marry (Lev. Rabbah 20). 

I find this to be a prime example of commentaries that fit the times.  The reasoning of the Rabbis, while all plausible explanations for punishment based on our knowledge of other areas in Judaism, is simply not supported by the relevant Torah verses.  That by no means proves them false, but I believe they are more likely to have been put forth as reasons due to the social/cultural/political condition of the Jews at the times in which they were espoused.  What I would like to focus on however, is what I find to be the more relevant lesson from Nadav and Avihu.  Based on Rashi and the Netziv, we see the necessity to find the balance between intellectual and emotional worship of Hashem.

In commenting on Nadav and Avihu, Rashi quotes two opinions on the reason for their death:

Rabbi Eliezer says: The sons of Aaron died only because they rendered halachic decisions in the presence of their teacher Moses.  Rabbi Yishmael says: They entered the Sanctuary while intoxicated with wine.

Again, neither reason is related to the “alien fire” mentioned in the Torah (although Rabbi Yishmael does bring contextual proof for his reason).  But Rabbi Eliezer’s answer is the one I find most intriguing, particularly in light of Rashi’s seemingly contradictory commentary on the same story which states that Nadav and Avihu were in fact greater than Moses and Aaron (based on Vayikrah Rabba 12:2).  If they were “greater” than Moses, Rabbi Francis Nataf asks, why would it be wrong to render halachic decision in Moses’ presence?  Should not Moses defer to the more knowledgeable men?  No, Rabbi Nataf explains, because “the rabbis teach that one should respect even a foolish old man, justifying this position by saying that his experience alone is worthy of respect” (Kiddushin 33a).  The wisdom of our elders, who have experienced so much more, cannot be out-bid by the knowledge of youth.  Each generation gains more and more knowledge, learns more and more science, math, philosophy, halacha…but experience is what is most admired.  It is experience that life provides.  The mind does not reign supreme in Judaism, but must be combined with history, tradition, and the heart. 

This explains why Nadav and Avihu were potentially killed by God’s hand for not deferring to the elder Moses.  But I still find the following quote by the Netziv to be the most favorable explanation, the most based on the “alien fire” in the text of the Torah:

Even in Moses’ day there were sects among the Israelites that were fervent in their love of the Lord, but did not adhere to the boundaries set down by the Torah….  Therefore Moses told the Israelites that this is not the way.  Rather, they should remove such evil inclinations from their hearts, for even such desire, albeit directed towards worshipping the Lord in sanctity, nevertheless does not follow the way that the Lord wishes.  Rather, it is no other than an evil inclination, leading Israel’s great leaders to err and stray through this desire….  If we seek to love the Lord in a way which is not that of the Torah, with everyone doing as they please and forming bands of people worshipping together, that is against the will of the Lord, blessed is He.  (Ha’amek Davar, Leviticus 9:5)

What a beautiful concept, balancing on such a thin line.  My heart says “yes, do this for Hashem my God!”  But the Torah says “no, the way laid forth is that way, not this.”  Our challenge is to direct our heart to the way of the Torah, to channel it in the ways set forth.  There is freedom in many areas…in prayer and personality.  But when the Torah says X you shall not do Y.  This is a challenge in so many ways and even so many great Jews have been guilty of wavering, if not falling completely off, this tight rope.  Indeed Yehuda ha-Levi states in The Kuzari that the golden calf was just such an instance.  The Jews wanted to build a calf not as an idol, but to worship Hashem…yet it lead to unexpected idolatrous behavior.  We must to this day follow the halachot  Within this intellectual framework we must set our heart; within this intellectual framework is where our souls can be at peace; within this intellectual framework our emotion in worshipping Hashem must abide. 

Pesach: The Power to Change

Each time of year in Judaism has a specific essence associated with it, related to the holiday.  Pesach is a time with a heightened atmosphere for elevating ourselves to a greater existence.

The Jews left Egypt destitute – physically, spiritually, mentally – exhausted!  We were nothing in Egypt.  Until the prophetess Miriam came along, we had sunk to such a low level of existence that we had even forsaken one of our highest callings, to bring life into the world.  All the Jews had vowed not to have children to avoid Pharaoh’s decree to kill every firstborn male Jew.  But the story of Pesach is a story of resurrection from the depths we experienced in Egypt.  We were nothing, but we became something.  Our ancestors changed themselves, transformed themselves.  And we did not just become something – we became the Jewish people!  Our ancestors rose up from the depths of Egypt to recognize the ultimate purpose of man, that which – even when we don’t feel it – our soul is constantly yearning for: oneness with God, our Creator.  They showed the ultimate power to change – and that is the essence of this time of year, the essence of Passover: the ability to change.  Each one of us has the ability to change, to become someone new.  Each year when we sit at our Pesach Seder we are different than we were the previous year, drastically different than we were even longer ago.  And with this recognition we must also recognize that the same people sitting around our table are also different.  They too have the power to transform themselves.  As we sit at the Seder table, we must look at the positive way in which others too have changed for the better.  We must not judge them based on where they came – on who their parents or family are, on what school they went to, on what mistakes they made in previous times.  Each and every one of us has the power to grow, to improve our selves, to become closer to God both physically and spiritually…and when we make these positive steps forward, we all deserve to be honored for this change, not demonized for our past.  This Pesach, may we all recognize and applaud all the changes that we, and those around us, have made for the better this past year.

Chag Kasher v’Sameach

(Thanks to Rabbi Katz/Rav Leuchter for inspiring this year's take home message on Pesach.)