Parashat Kedoshim, Leviticus 19:1-20:27

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Kedoshim can best be summed up as "don't exploit."

I have never understood the frenzy surrounding young entertainers. What may have started with Baby Peggy has grown exponentially over the decades to include familiar names such as Michael Jackson, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus, or—more recently—Justin Bieber. My bemusement turns to alarm when I read of companies that that exist solely to entice youngsters—and their families—who aspire to be the next overnight sensations. Alarm turns to absolute terror when the determination to grab the spotlight becomes the sole focus of familial devotion and solace as recently happened with a thirteen-year-old girl named Rebecca Black. Her family apparently invested a few thousand dollars in the production of a formulaic music video in the hope that it would go viral. They got their wish, only not in the Bieber-esque way they had hoped. Her video, roundly judged as being terrible, gained her widespread infamy. Adults who should know better and would otherwise never make fun of a child had a field day on morning "news" shows and late night comedy programs using her as an object of ridicule. You could say her family offered her up for this, just to gain fame, and it worked. Apparently young Ms. Black is said to be working on an album; so, perhaps she will have the last laugh. The question is whether the laughter will be joyous or bittersweet.

While we nod out heads and cluck our tongues wondering what kind of parents would subject their child to such ridicule, we need not troll the internet for more examples, there are enough closer to home. How many of us are sure we have the next great athlete, model, actor, or rock-star in-training? How often do we forego rational judgment on the off chance that one of our children could fulfill one of our dreams? For some it's a recording contract; for others it's a football scholarship. It may be nothing more than your child's picture on the front-page of the hometown paper, or the adorable baby video uploaded on YouTube for all the world to see. Who knows? It may result in a lucrative contract. Even some ads on a webpage would suffice.

Granted, what we do today is not nearly as dramatic as what we are cautioned against in parashat Kedoshim, in which we are presented with a horrific situation we are told to avoid in no uncertain terms:

Anyone among the Israelites, or among the strangers residing in Israel, who gives any of his offspring to Molech, shall be put to death; the people of the land shall pelt him with stones. And I will set My face against that man and will cut him off from among his people, because he gave of his offspring to Molech and so defiled My sanctuary and profaned My holy name. And if the people of the land should shut their eyes to that man when he gives of his offspring to Molech, and should not put him to death, I Myself will set My face against that man and his kin, and will cut off from among their people both him and all who follow him in going astray after Molech.

Leviticus 20:2-5

This is the second time we have a warning about Molech. The first was in last week's parasha: Do not allow any of your offspring to be offered up to Molech, and do not profane the name of your God: I am the Lord. (Leviticus 18:21) Despite the dire warning we actually know very little about the cult of Molech, but what we do know isn't pretty.

It has been suggested, given the clear reference to the burning of children in Syria in the late eighth century B.C.E., that the cult of Molech described in biblical literature and condemned in the law codes of the Torah was linked historically to the Syro-Assyrian cults that flourished among the Arameans of Syria during a good part of the monarchic period in biblical Israel. Like Syrian art and architecture, Syrian religious practices, including the burning of children, may have been imitated by the kings of Israel and Judah. … It is likely that more than one cult in the ancient Near East included the burning and sacrificing of children.
The Cult of Molech in Biblical Israel in The JPS Torah Commentary: Leviticus, Baruch Levine (ed.) p. 258

The verb describing the offering of a child to Molech is n-t-n, to give, which carries with it the connotation of devoting or dedicating the child to this deity. (The Talmud describes this ritual as either the child walking between two bonfires or being burned as a sacrifice.)

Obviously, such behaviour is beyond our imagination. We would never consider passing our children through a fire. (I even have difficulty writing this.) Still, we can be so single-minded that we dedicate our children to other causes we hold dear: living our hopes and dreams. Though our modern pursuits are rarely fatal (a number of "over the hill" child stars being the exception), our children do burn out. We kid ourselves by saying we are only fulfilling their desires. What's the hurry? How many children have clearly formulated goals in life? How many have dreams that change on a regular basis? We confuse empowerment with exploitation resulting in a childhood left in ashes.

Kedoshim is not a parenting manual, but it is a powerful guide to moral adult behaviour which, if we practice it, can influence our offspring. The warning about Molech is nestled among some wonderful lessons. Leviticus 19 gives examples of ethical behaviour towards others: revere your parents, treat rich and poor alike, do not degrade your daughter, use honest weights and measures, honour the elderly, respect the disabled. Leviticus 20 deals with the boundaries of sexual encounters. If we are to treat adults in an ethical and moral manner, how much more so should this behaviour be followed with children? Kedoshim can best be summed up as "don't exploit." Pride of place among the consequences of this injunction is not to offer our children to the modern idols of fleeting adulation.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Shabbat Hol Ha-Mo'ed Pesach, Exodus 33:12 - 34:26, Numbers 28:19 - 28:25

The 5771 parasha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

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The symbolism of being empty-handed is related to slavery.

Why is this parasha different from all other Torah portions? For one thing, it is read a number of times during the year. This is part of a longer parasha called "Ki Tisa." The section we read on Shabbat Hol Ha-mo'ed Pesach (the Shabbat for the intermediate days of Passover) is also exactly the same section we read on the Shabbat of the intermediate days of Sukkot. A smaller section of this parasha (Exodus 34:1-26) is read on the third day of Pesach.

Despite the length of the reading for this Shabbat, the connection with Pesach is found in only two verses: You shall observe the Feast of Unleavened Bread--eating unleavened bread for seven days, as I have commanded you--at the set time of the month of Abib, for in the month of Abib you went forth from Egypt. (Exodus 34:18) You shall not offer the blood of My sacrifice with anything leavened; and the sacrifice of the Feast of Passover shall not be left lying until morning. (Exodus 34:25) Here we have the basics of Pesach (at least, of the biblical Pesach): no eating of leaven, and offering the Paschal sacrifice.

A closer reading brings to light another Pesach connection: Every first issue of the womb is Mine, from all your livestock that drop a male as firstling, whether cattle or sheep. But the firstling of an ass you shall redeem with a sheep; if you do not redeem it, you must break its neck. And you must redeem every first-born among your sons. (Exodus 34:19-20) Mirroring the tenth plague, wherein the Egyptian firstborn is destroyed by God's might, in our parasha the firstborn belongs to God.

Every time our Israelite ancestors were presented with a first-born animal, they were to remember God's role in redeeming them from slavery. Most significantly, all the firstborn sons of the Israelite descendants of the freed slaves are to be redeemed. This, too, is a powerful message for Pesach: service to God is performed in freedom.

Perhaps the most important lesson of Pesach is to be found in the odd verse at the very end of this set of instructions: None shall appear before Me empty-handed. (Exodus 34:20) While this verse seems to be related to the firstborn, this is not so, as Rashi explains, since there is no commandment to appear before God with the firstborn.

The relationship of this verse to Pesach is found elsewhere: You shall observe the Feast of Unleavened Bread — eating unleavened bread for seven days as I have commanded you — at the set time in the month of Abib, for in it you went forth from Egypt; and none shall appear before Me empty-handed… (Exodus 23:15). In Deuteronomy this commandment is associated with all the pilgrimage festivals: Three times a year — on the Feast of Unleavened Bread, on the Feast of Weeks, and on the Feast of Booths — all your males shall appear before the Lord your God in the place that He will choose. They shall not appear before the Lord empty-handed, but each with his own gift, according to the blessing that the Lord your God has bestowed upon you. (Deuteronomy 16:16-17)

The symbolism of being empty-handed is related to slavery. A slave had no possessions and was, hence, empty-handed. A former slave was truly free only once he or she had the wherewithal to fend for him or herself. When you set him free, do not let him go empty-handed: Furnish him out of the flock, threshing floor, and vat, with which the Lord your God has blessed you. Bear in mind that you were slaves in the land of Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you; therefore I enjoin this commandment upon you today. (Deuteronomy 15:13-15)

The slave who left with nothing was merely owned by a new master: poverty. Such an experience is eloquently described by the American abolitionist Frederick Douglass who arrived in New York City as a runaway slave:

I was much troubled. I had very little money — enough to buy me a few loaves of bread, but not enough to pay board, outside a lumber yard. …For a time, every door seemed closed against me. A sense of my loneliness and helplessness crept over me, and covered me with something bordering on despair. … I was without home, without friends, without work, without money, and without any definite knowledge of which way to go, or where to look for succor.
My Bondage and My Freedom, Frederick Douglass, pp. 338, 339

The instruction to fill the hand of the slave follows the example set by God when we were redeemed from slavery. (Just how much was one to give a freed slave? That, according to Kiddushin 17a, is based on the redemption of the firstborn son in this Shabbat's parasha.)

Pesach is our annual journey to freedom, encompassing all the potential that exists in a new beginning. This new-found freedom is encapsulated in the reaction of Harriet Tubman when she reached the northern state of Pennsylvania: "When I found I had crossed that line, I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything; the sun came like gold through the trees, and over the fields, and I felt like I was in Heaven."

Pesach is our reaching out to grasp the freedom God offered us with an outstretched arm. That freedom entails an obligation to hold out a helping hand to those enslaved in various ways. We are obligated to fill the empty hand. Appearing empty-handed is more than a ritualistic faux-pas. It is an example of unappreciated and squandered freedom.

Shabbat shalom and moadim le-simcha,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Acharei Mot, Leviticus 16:1-18:30; Shabbat HaGadol

The 5771 parasha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

This parasha is sponsored by Rabbi Michal Shekel in honour of Debra Bennett's upcoming Bat-Mitzvah.

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God's rules are life enhancing.

In 1963 a young American folksinger set out to write a piece that reflected the upheaval he observed in his country. On November 22 of that year US President John F. Kennedy was assassinated; the next evening Bob Dylan pondered whether to begin his concert with his new song The Times They Are a-Changin'.

I had no understanding…I couldn't understand. "I thought, 'Wow, how can I open with that song? I'll get rocks thrown at me.' But I had to sing it, my whole concert takes off from there. I know I had no understanding of anything. Something had just gone haywire in the country and they were applauding the song. And I couldn't understand why they were clapping, or why I wrote the song. I couldn't understand anything…"

Bob Dylan, Anthony Scaduto p. 160 as quoted in

The Times They Are a-Changin' (song), Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia

The confusion applied to everyone else in the country, whether Dylan fans or not. The nation was in shock, no one could quite comprehend it but everyone had to move on one way or another. That fateful day in November was the harbinger of many changes. Throughout that tumultuous decade and into the next one event after tragic event also carried within it the hope of a turning point in the formation of a better society. Dylan's song, first sung in shock, became an anthem performed with great joy.

Acharei Mot also begins with an incomprehensible trauma that is contained in the very name of the portion:"after the death." This refers to the death of Aaron's sons shortly after the priestly ordination ceremony (Leviticus 9-10). The story resumes in Leviticus 16 with precise instructions for the ritual of atonement that will save Aaron from the fate of his sons. As the parasha unfolds, we are presented with additional instructions on offering animals properly, avoiding the blood when eating animals, and not consuming animals killed by beasts. Acharei Mot concludes with the levitical boundaries of sexual relationships.

It is within this last part of the parasha that we are given the reason for the various restrictions: You shall keep My laws and My rules, by the pursuit of which man shall live (ve-chai ba-hem) (Leviticus 18:5). The purpose of these instructions is to affirm life. A parasha that opens after the tragic demise of two young priests who did not adhere to the rules of priestly rituals nears its conclusion with the statement that God's rules are life enhancing.

Ve-chai ba-hem (live by them) has been open to many interpretations. In the Talmud this is interpreted to mean that these are laws by which one should live and not die. Hence, they could be set aside in a life threatening situation. (According to Tractate Yoma 85b this is true for all but murder, incest, adultery, and idolatry.) Onkelos, who gave us the Aramaic translation of the Torah, and Rashi both agree that the life referred to is in olam ha-ba, "the world to come": Follow the rules in this world, be rewarded in the next one. Nachmanides insisted that the verse is very much about this world and refers to the laws that instruct us about establishing a peaceful and well-functioning society.

Maimonides gives the words a deeper meaning: The wicked are considered as dead even in their lifetimes because they are not fulfilling their innate mission to live by God’s laws. They do not understand what it means to be truly alive. A 19th-century Hasidic master understood the words homiletically to mean, "Keep God’s laws while you are young and vigorous. Do not wait to become pious when you are old and the urge to sin has fled."

Etz Hayim: Torah and Commentary, David L. Lieber and Jules Harlow (eds.), p. 689

Perhaps the most enthusiastic interpretation can be found in Chidushei ha-Rim, in which Rabbi Yitzhak Meir Alter, the 19th century founder of the Gerer Hassidim stresses that it is a matter of attitude and approach to life. It is not enough just to perform the mitzvot commanded by God; they must be embraced wholeheartedly and enthusiastically.

At first glance parashat Acharei Mot appears to be a careful and cautious warning to Aaron and to us: Abide by these instructions and all will be well. But the pressures accompanying the performance of these instructions can weigh a person down, emotionally and spiritually. As the Chidushei ha-Rim point out, equally important is how we approach our obligations. Ve-chai ba-hem, live by them, is more than just living life: It is about the quality of the life we choose. With apologies to Dylan our attitudes determine how "our lives they are a-changin'." With the proper approach, we both enrich our lives and honour God.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel

Parashat Metsora, Leviticus 14:1-15:33

The 5771 parasha series is made possible by the dedication of our donors Randy Gangbar in memory of Marcy Gangbar, Jacob Langer and Ferne Sherkin-Langer and family, an anonymous donor in memory of Esther and Sheldon Litowitz, and many online donors.

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Metsora carries an implicit message about the fluidity of the human body.

People keep all sorts of interesting tchotchkes on their desks, although my work area is so cluttered that I have no room for photos, trinkets, or little toys to provide a welcome distraction. (While it may not be apparent, there is a method to the seeming chaos on my desk.) My favourite trinket, however, can be found on the desk of one of my healthcare providers. It is a liquid motion toy containing two different coloured liquids suspended in a third colourless one. When you turn the toy upside-down, the coloured liquids form different patterns as they make their way to the bottom. I often wonder if I my attraction to this toy is one reason I keep my appointments with this doctor; I could spend hours just watching the flowing motion and trying to create patterns. By just flipping the toy, I get a predictable pattern with the liquids quickly settling. But turning the toy halfway and then back again, or shaking it, provides unexpected patterns, though eventually the coloured liquids always settle on the bottom in a standard pattern.

Patterns are essential to understanding the Book of Leviticus. The underlying purpose of the intricate rituals is to maintain the boundaries between the holy and the mundane and to ensure order. This is akin to keeping the liquid motion toy static. Only, the Levitical priests weren't dealing with simple toys but with human beings, animals, and unpredictable nature. Life being what it is, things inevitably happen: houses grow mould, people get sick, our bodies change. Some changes are temporary or cyclical; other changes—while still temporary—are less predictable.

Parashat Metsora continues to detail the Levitical goal of bringing things into order. Anything, or anyone, that falls outside the expected order is categorized as ritually impure and either has to be kept separate from sanctified items or restored to a state of purity. The parasha includes rituals for the metsora, the individual afflicted with a skin disease (tsara'at), who is in the process of healing and is brought back into community step-by-step. This portion contains rituals for homes that are considered to have an impurity that is also called tsara'at. Finally, the parasha deals with bodily issues or, more correctly, issues from the body, focusing on both normal and abnormal bodily fluids and how these emissions affect overall ritual purity.

While the latter half of parashat Metsora is centered on bodily fluids, it carries an implicit message about the fluidity of the human body.

Focus on the body emphasizes the changes undergone by the self in the process of becoming another self. Signs on the body gauge identity and mark transformation. When the sick are healed, their bodies bear the proof. Yet one’s body is not only an indicator of change but also a vessel of memory. Illness and trauma are remembered by nerves, muscles, and scars. The body that gives birth will forever maintain a link with its offspring. The body attests to change as well as to the indelibility of experience. Therefore descriptions of identity, predicated as they are on the language of body, convey the tension between the possibility of change and the integrity of forms.

Rachel Havrelock, The Torah: A Women's Commentary,

Tamara Cohn Eskenazi and Andrea L. Weiss (eds.), p 672

It should be stressed that in the Levitical world while a person may be in an "impure" state and set apart from the community, this separation should not be interpreted as abandonment. In this world a return to ritual purity represents a return to a world in balance, in other words to normalcy. How powerful that a priest was there to act as a guide, noting that the person has been through a transformative experience and welcoming the individual's return to the community.

This is something we lack today. Too often the changed body is at odds with the memory it contains of its former self. Anyone who has been through illness, or who lives with a chronic or debilitating condition, yearns for normalcy. This may not mean going back to the way things were before the illness. Often it entails adjusting to a new variable in life. More importantly, it requires accepting changes that illness has etched on the body as a part of life. It means realizing that this may also be a recurring process: You are finally used to the "new you" and something happens and you go through the entire process again.

For our ancestors the rituals in Metsora provided validation for what the individual experienced and acceptance for who the person had become. Though the rituals may strike us as archaic, we can still draw meaning from the text. Here are two simple but powerful lessons from Metsora: Accept the fluidity of the human body; and rituals may not cure but they do heal.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel