Dvar Torah Parshat Acharei Mot and Kedoshim or... Love is Love

Vayikra 16:1 – 18:30, 19:1- 20:27

This week we have another double parsha event. Our portions are Acharei Mot and Kedoshim. Acharei Mot begins with instructions following the death of Aaron’s two sons, then goes on to describe the Yom Kippur service, including the casting of lots to decide which of two goats is sacrificed, and which is given the sins of the people and led off to the wilderness away from all humans. Side note here: Kippurim is Hebrew for lots. We have two holidays with that name in it. They fall about six months apart. Yom Kippur or Day of Atonement is named after the casting of lots to choose which goat carries the sins of the community into the wilderness and is all about Hashem’s grace. Half a year later, the story of Esther commemorates Purim, named for the lots cast to determine the Jewish people’s fate and involves human intervention rather than G_dly intervention to save the people.

This is followed by other commandments such as not to drink of the blood of the animal for blood is life. In Chapter 18, we have laws about nakedness and not uncovering the the nakedness of family members and who one cannot marry, avoiding women during menstruation, don’t offer children up to Molech in other words, no child sacrifice. Don’t lie as a male with a male, which I will discuss in more detail.

Kedoshim is all about holiness. What is holiness? It can according to Etz Chaim commentary, Hashem, good people, a book, a period of time, or an animal to be sacrificed. It is to be set apart from the ordinary. It’s the highest level of human behavior, human behavior at its most G_dlike. Two definitions stuck out to me. One by Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch says, “Holiness occurs when a morally free human being has complete dominion over their own energies and inclinations, and the temptations that come with them, and place them at the service of G_d’s will.” The second by Martin Buber says, “Holiness is found not in rising above the level of one’s neighbors, but in relationships, in human beings recognizing the divinity within other people, even as Hashem recognizes the latent divinity within us.”

Holiness is not about avoiding misdeeds but by finding ways to sanctify every moment of our lives. Rambam warns against a person who manages to live an unworthy life without breaking any of Torah’s rules. Such a person is called a naval birshut ha-Torah, that is “a scoundrel within the bounds of Torah.” The mitzvot of Vayikra 19 cuts across all categories of life. Ritual, business ethics, proper behavior towards the poor and afflicted, and family relations. Buber says Judaism divides people not between the holy and profane, rather between the holy and not yet holy. We find within Kedoshim, the verse, “Love your fellow as yourself.”

But in this drash, I want to single out two verses, one from Acharei Mot, the other from Kedoshim. Two verses that have been directed at me more than once in my lifetime, primarily by fundamentalist Christian types. Here they are:

Leviticus 18:22 “Do not lie with a male as one lies with a woman. It is an abhorrence.”

Leviticus 20:13 “If a man lies with a male as one lies with a woman, the two of them have done an abhorrent thing; the two of them shall be put to death—their bloodguilt is upon them.”

Short biographical note here. I knew I should be a girl by age 3. That was 1950 though and realizing that dream would take a while. I had another surprise in store when puberty arrived. Still seen by the world as a boy, and heaven knows I tried, I realized I was attracted to other boys. By adulthood, I was living gay, with a slight intermission in in the early seventies when I tried to be straight and married a lesbian trying the same thing. That did not last, and I lived out to those in my community, not with my family who I knew would have issues. In 1990 I met my beloved Skip, and our relationship was so fulfilling. With him, I began transition. Enter another surprise and with hormones, my sexuality changed, and I was attracted to women. But I loved Skip, and we were together until his passing in ’97. I met Robin in ’99 and we are still together to this day.

So how could Hashem do such a thing? Hashem created me just exactly the way I am. How could I be doomed to a life of celibacy, without the supportive love of a life companion. I would not change one thing in my life. Did Hashem really wish that upon those They created?

I think not. Let’s look at the world in which these words were written. Unlike the world of those fundamentalist Christian critics who so readily use these verses as weapons even as they disregard laws of kashrut and the many other mitzvot, our Torah has been redefined over and over as we take those holy words and reinterpret within the world in which we live. First, let’s look at the Hebrew words used here. This all occurred within the backdrop of a Greek civilization nearby and many of the rules are written to separate the Jews from other surrounding peoples. Also, words matter in Torah. A study of Talmud and subsequent commentary over generations make this abundantly clear. An article in the Jewish Standard by June Kozak Kane offers a plausible argument. In all other verses in the Hebrew Bible referring to two men, they would use the word “ish” and “ish” meaning man. But only in these two verses do they use “ish” meaning man, and “zachar” meaning male. Are they referring to pederasty, that is sex between a man and a boy? The terms man and male come directly from ancient Greek culture where man meant one who owned land, voted, could marry. Those who were too young for this were referred to as “males.” In other words, children.

This is an interpretation that makes good sense to me. For example, King David speaks of his love for Jonathan in such flourishes normally reserved for romantic relationships. Of course, whether they engaged in sexual relations is something none of us will ever know, much as people today try to explain away figures like Lincoln and his bed warmer, Eleanor Roosevelt and her romantic relationship with Eleanor Hitchcock, and others. I know this. I’ve had two profound loves in this lifetime. Where when I do wrong, I get this feeling in the pit of my belly, I have found nothing but profound peace with Skip and now with Robin. We have said repeatedly that love is love… is love. I am quite certain Hashem agrees. Baruch Hashem!

Dvar Torah Parsha Tazria and Metzora

Vayikra 12:1-13:59, 14:1-15:33

This week, we have two parshat, Tazria and M’tzora. They are read together most often when it’s not a Jewish leap year when an extra month is added. Here we are introduced to the concepts Tumah, the state of being Tameh, that is, ritual impurity; and Taharah, the process of becoming Tahor which is ritual purity. To our modern minds, these carry a negative connotation that is not really deserved. Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg in a paper on the subject quotes Lisa Berman with Mayyim Hayyim, saying Tumah is like an everyday state of being, while Taharah is an elevated state needed to enter the Tabernacle. Or as suggested by Etz Chaim, the notion of Tumah grows out of a sense of reverence of the miraculous nature of birth, the awesome power of death, and the mysteries of illness and recovery.

So Tazria begins with the process of becoming Tameh, with the birth of a boy, and then that of a girl. The period for a male is 7 days, followed by circumcision on the eighth day and counting 33 days from that date. For a girl child, it is 14 days, followed by counting 66 days. At the end of either, the woman offers a guilt offering. Other things, like seminal emissions, menstruation, contact with death, a skin disorder called tzara-at can cause one to be Tameh. Tzara-at is a skin condition referred here as leprosy, but it is separate from Hansen’s Disease which we call leprosy today. None of these other conditions require as long to move to tahor as childbirth. So, lots to unpack here. Why does the time double for girls? It seems there are almost as many reasons given as there are Rabbis. To some, it was a belief that the male embryo developed more quickly than that of the female. Others, bless their hearts, thought it was because of the greater grief for not having a male child. According to Yael Tischler in a dvar on this topic, a few more palatable reasons were offered. She says Mary Douglas suggests our ancestors believed that circumcision had protective power, so the mother and her male child did not need as much time apart. Rachel Adler says that the birth of a potential life giver would have compounded the time to reach equilibrium. Adler goes on to say that both needed the time because the brush with death was so great. In our modern era, it is not the threat to life it once was. In my opinion, the latter makes sense, though I also would suggest that in writings by patriarchs, this sort of division is not entirely surprising.

While Tazria is all about identifying and diagnosing instances of tameh, Metzora is about the process of healing or moving from tameh to a state of purity. In diagnosis and treatment, the priest plays the role not only of spiritual leader but as medical healer as well. It occurs to me that this tradition lasted well beyond Biblical times. In my study of British archaeology, medieval hospitals were run by monastic groups where their Christian patients would come to the hospital and first do confession, then get herbal treatments, possibly a leech regimen, all just outside a church so they could hear the service from their beds. The Talmud suggests that the skin disorders or tzara-at were a result of malicious gossip, referring to Miriam who had acquired tzara-at after complaining to the people about Moshe. But the Torah itself considers it a disease to be healed, not a fault to be corrected. For those with this affliction, they had to rent their clothing, go outside the camp, calling “Tameh! Tameh!” This suggests to me, that there was at some level an understanding that some disease could be spread to others. The diagnosis was given, not only to the person, but their hair, beard, clothing, even stones in their walls.

It was the role of the priest to go outside the camp to inspect for the ones who were healed. Metzora explains the ritual of purification, including bathing in living water (a mikveh). Like the new convert, they emerge a new person. Finally, we see a discussion on discharges, including those other than the usual emissions and menstruation.

So our parshat speak of those things we’d rather not talk about. Death, disease, discharges of all sorts. There is a verse in Song of Songs 5:11 that goes, “his head is finest gold, his locks are curled and black as a raven.” Set aside for a moment, the racist connotation that black to the medieval commentator represents that which is undesirable, according to Rabbi Aviva Richman of Hadar. But in the interpretation found in Vayikra Rabbah 19:3, “R. Shmuel bar Yitzhak interpreted the verses to be about certain sections of the Torah. Even though they seem disgusting and dark to say them in public- such as the laws of emissions, skin afflictions, menstruation, and giving birth – said the Holy Blessed One, ‘These are pleasing to Me.’ As it is said, ‘The gift of Yehudah and Yerushalayim is pleasing to Hashem’. Malakhi 3:4.” In other words, these are about our humanity, our Jewishness, and it is sweet and beautiful to Hashem.

Torah tells us we are a nation of priests. After the destruction of the second Temple, it falls to us to reach out. In Biblical times, an afflicted leper was the ultimate example of the other. It was the priest who went out and made contact, working towards their healing. The concept of “other” remains with us. It may be illness, death, or something societal that results in isolation. As today’s priests, we can reach out, assist in healing in our own ways. A card, a visitation, just a reminder of their humanity and a reassurance that they are not alone, can make a world of difference. We serve Hashem by serving others. Compassion is in and of itself a huge a great healer, for others, but also for ourselves. Baruch Hashem!

Dvar Torah Parsha Sh'mini

Vayikra 9:1 – 11:47

There’s a lot going on in Parsha Shemini. We begin following the seven days of ordination of Aaron and his sons. On the eighth day, Moshe calls together Aaron and his sons as well as the elders representing all of Israel. There’s a lot of symbolism going on with the eighth day. In Judaism seven days symbolizes a complete unit, and an eighth day represents the beginning at a new level concluding an octave. For instance, a baby boy is circumcised on that day and brought into the covenant on that eighth day. Talmud in Babylonia Talmud Megillah 10B compares the seven days of celebrating the construction of the Tabernacle to the seven days of Creation. On the eighth day we are challenged to live in the day-to-day world of ordinary events. (Commentary Etz Chaim.)

Moshe invites Aaron to officiate at the alter for the first time. One tradition is that he is urged to bring forward the purification offering, a calf, for it reminded him of the sin of the golden calf. Moshe assures him however he is forgiven because he was ashamed. (M’norat Ha-Ma-or.) The ability to feel shame is according to this tradition a defining characteristic of a moral human being. He makes expiation both for the priesthood AND the people though the latter required an additional sacrifice. On this first occasion the amount of sacrifice required was greater, requiring both an ox and a ram. Then Aaron lifts his hands and blesses the people. They then enter the tent, perhaps to pray for the appearance of Hashem’s presence (Sifra, a halachic midrash of Vayikra often quoted in the Talmud), or perhaps according to Ibn Ezra, the miraculous ignition of the alter fire. The fire cam from Hashem’s Presence (the Kavod) which itself is fire enveloped in a thick cloud that pervaded the tent.

Chapter 10 is about Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu, and example for the need to strict compliance to ritual laws and regulations, who bring “foreign fire” and are consumed by flames dying instantly. The story is told without ever telling us explicitly what they did. More on this to follow. Finally, our parsha outlines the various laws of kashrut.

Let’s dive deeper into this story of Nadab and Abihu. Looking at various commentaries, often there is more than one interpretation by individual commentators. Some questions by the commentary in Etz Chaim include, did they bring instruments to make a fire, not understanding on this occasion it comes directly from Hashem? Were they standing too close to the foreign fire when Hashem’s flame arrived at the altar?

Chibbah Yeteirah, a commentary written in the late 20th century by Yehuda Herzl Henkin quotes the Rambam saying that the fire didn’t descend specifically to kill Nadav and Abihu. Rather they were simply not careful to enter at that moment and when the fire descended, it killed them. While it was an accident, nevertheless they sinned for not paying attention since they should not have brought fire. They acted seemingly according to halacha, but they did not pay attention to what the Holy One required of them at that moment.

Chizkuni, a commentary written by Chizkiyahu ben Rabbi Manoach in the 13th century had more than one take on this. First is that they were forbidden to put fire in these censers. It was custom that heavenly fire to travel first to the Holy of Holies, and from there to the golden altar in the Sanctuary to consume incense offered. In this case it did not stop there but traveled beyond the Sanctuary to the copper altar in front of the sanctuary where they stood. He also quotes Rashi quoting Eliezer that the reason they were killed is they assumed right to make halachic decisions while Moshe was alive and well.

In the earlier Jerusalem Talmud Yuma 1.1, the question is raised in connection to their deaths at Yom Kippur when they actually died on the first of Nissan. Their answer is that the premature death of the righteous acts as atonement for the people left alive.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks had some thoughts on this as well. He in essence offers the distinction between Prophets and Kings on the one hand, and the Priestly class. The prophets and kings can act spontaneously, for they inhabit the world of time. To fulfill their roles, they need a sense of history, understand the mood at the moment, and the flexibility to act in that moment. Priests are the guardian of the order. They maintain boundaries between sacred and secular, the pure and the impure. They are part of a world that is timeless, daily, weekly, and annual sacrifices, to distinguish between the sacred and the profane, and to teach the people. Spontaneity is not permitted within the priesthood. In another piece on this subject, Rabbi Sacks suggests that the function of the holy, the point at which “I am” is silent in the overwhelming presence of “there is”. There was a call for humility that these two sons ignored.

I believe each of these explanations, interpretations present truths that may or may not relate to the actual incident, but then Torah is always an unfolding adventure going forward. Whether accident or intentional, mistakes were clearly made. The two sons acted on their own initiative rather than instructions given through Hashem by Moshe, and they paid with their lives. Rabbi Sacks makes a powerful argument in terms of the roles and responsibilities of the priesthood vs prophets and kings. One look at the history of the Jewish people, though we were required to change a lot following the destruction of the temple, the essence of what Torah teaches us has remained consistent. We do sacrifices in different ways, no longer killing animals, but rather offering gemilut chesed (loving kindness, Avodah (prayer,) and teshuvah (forgiveness). While leaders act spontaneously, a Jew anywhere in the world will recognize and participate in worship based on centuries of experience. The world of the sacred is indeed timeless.

Spirituality and our encounters with the Holy encourages limits to our behavior, opportunities for sacrifice, and our minhagim (customs) delineate both our encounters with the profane and the holy. After all of this transpired, we see Aaron in response to the death of his two eldest sons, silent. Commentary after commentary suggests silence equals consolation, acceptance, and continuation. As a priest, he is not allowed to grieve, but the community does it for him. Life goes on, and his duty is to continuation of priestly duties. It was in keeping with his role as a priest. Today though, in face of tragedy to our people, as it was for the people Israel outside of the Tent of Meeting, to mourn, to speak out against that which is senseless. Since the Shoah, we are called to Yizkor, to remember, and to work that it never happens again. The photo above speaks to that. It was my shul, following the murders of Jews at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburg. Antisemitism is on the rise today. We will not be silent.