Where are the Pants (and the Tzitz)?

Parshat Tetzaveh

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Prior to describing each of the garments of the priests, the Torah tells us “These are the vestments that they shall make: a breastplate, an ephod, a robe, a knitted tunic, a turban, and a sash. Make them sacred vestments for Aaron and his sons so that they will be able to be priests to Me.” (28:4)

 Every Jew who went to day school or yeshiva, or who simply studies the parsha, knows that a regular Kohen wears 4 garments, and the Kohen Gadol (High Priest) wears 4 additional garments for a total of eight garments. And yet, this preview summary only mentions 6 garments, leaving out the pants and the “tzitz” (forehead plate).

 And so, the obvious question: why are the pants and tzitz left out? [Almost seems like a bad gag from the Lego Movie]

 One could suggest that the pants are obvious. How they are made is not described in this chapter, as the verse simply says “Also make linen pants to cover their nakedness, reaching from their waists to their thighs.” (28:42) Even in their placement in the instructions, they seem an afterthought after “Place these [vestments] on Aaron and his sons. Then anoint them, and install them, sanctifying them to be priests to Me.” (28:41) 

However, one can wonder about the simplicity of the tunic, turban and sash, which are included in the list of the magnificent-six even though their instructions are all in one verse! “Knit the tunic out of linen. [Also] make the turban out of linen and an embroidered sash.” (28:39) The instruction to make them precedes that seemingly final command for placing the vestments on the kohanim, which indicates they are not an afterthought. Clearly, leaving out the pants is not because of their simplicity in design and instruction.

The tzitz, on the other hand, has three verses dedicated to its instruction (28:36-38). It is certainly not an afterthought. And yet, why not mention in the magnificent-six verse?

Ibn Ezra notes simply that the pants are not mentioned because they are obvious, as everyone wears undergarments. The tzitz is left out of the garment list because even though it is part of the count of the Kohen Gadol’s vestments, it is not really a "garment."

More practically, Chizkuni suggests that the pants and the tzitz are included in the words “Make them sacred vestments” from 28:4, while he also notes that the pants don’t go in a “makom kavod,” in a place of honor/respect on the body. Baal haTurim combines these teachings of Ibn Ezra and Chizkuni, while Or haChaim says the six vestments listed are all of equal holiness, while the tzitz is higher than all, on account of it being made out of gold and having God’s name on it, while the pants, owing to their placement, is on a lower level than the other garments. (no pun intended)

In fact, Rabbenu Bachaye notes that the pants are the only garments for which the Kohen did not get assistance in putting on (28:41, 29:5) because the pants are a private matter, while the other garments are what the people are instructed to place on the kohanim.

The Talmud notes in Arachin 16a that each vestment of the priests helps bring atonement for sins related to either where it is placed on the body, or some other sin thematically related to it in the Bible.

Utilizing the direction set in motion by the Talmud, we’ll conclude with a teaching from Kli Yakar, to hopefully understand a little more clearly.

According to the Talmud, the Tzitz brings atonement for brazenness, while the pants provide atonement for sins of a sexual nature.

Kli Yakar argues that the Tzitz provides atonement for the sins of a sexual nature as well. The pants, which are private and not seen, atone for the private sins of individuals. The Tzitz, on the other hand, must bring atonement for the brazen nature of sexual sins done in public. He notes that the Talmud may be referring to a basic sin of brazenness, but he thinks the connection made between the pants and Tzitz is too much to be overlooked, and not appreciated for this deeper message.

Perhaps the lesson for the kohanim is also for the people. Of course, a Kohen who represents the people in their service of God is advised to remember the significance attached to his undergarments, as per the Talmudic message to him, as well is the Kohen Gadol to recall on an even higher level what his responsibility is - not only to his Kohen brethren but to all of the nation of Israel which he serves - to be exceedingly humble and cognizant of the role he plays as the messenger of the people.

But the pants and Tzitz being grouped together might also be a reminder of the message associated with the other “tzitz” of the Torah – the “tzitzit.” The Torah tells us in the paragraph of tzitzit, that seeing them will remind “You to not stray after your heart and eyes, which [in the past] have led you to immorality” (Bamidbar 15:39) Maybe, at least for men who wear tzitzit, the tzitzit, which are seen when put on, and are otherwise often tucked into the pants, can play that role of the tzitz and the pants of the kohanim, to help us overcome sins of brazenness and immorality, whether committed in public – through the things we see on the street, or committed in private – in whatever that means to people, as our hearts and eyes are trained to use the tzitzit as guides to proper service of God.

The Calling of Self Sacrifice (via the Kiyor)

Ki Tisa

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Towards the beginning of Ki Tisa, the Torah gives us the first depictions of the Kiyor, the washbasin that was to be used by the Kohanim before they engaged in any Mishkan service. So important is the act of washing the hands and feet, that the verb “rachatz” (wash) appears in every one of the four verses that describe this vessel, and the warning of “and they will not die” (as long as they are sure to wash) appears twice.

 Let’s address three questions. First, why such a severe warning and punishment of death for not rinsing one’s hands and feet? Second, is there something to be learned from the overuse of the verb “rachatz”? Finally, why is the command for the Kiyor issued so far after all the other vessels of the Mishkan have been described? Was it an afterthought?

 The Pesikta (Ki Tisa 30:21) summarizes the offenses that could bring about the Kohen’s death: doing the service while intoxicated, with a bare head, missing a garment, or not having washed hands and feet before doing the Mishkan service. The Mechilta answers our glaring question – this is a “Chok,” a rule which defies logic, which comes from the One Above, of how He wants His Mishkan to operate. 

There is a debate as to how many spigots the Kiyor had. Rabbi Chaim Paltiel noted that the root “rachatz” appears four times, indicating there were four spigots, enough for Aharon, Moshe and Aharon’s sons to wash at the same time (based on Shmot 40:31). Oddly enough, Aharon had four sons at this time. Are we to infer from this opinion that two of his sons were fated to die, even before they entered the Holy of Holies (Vayikra 10:2)? (I wonder…) [see Zevachim 19b, and Rambam hilchot Biat Hamikdash 5:13, who says the four people were Aharon, Elazar, Itamar and Pinchas]

 Ibn Ezra records the opinion of the ancient Rabbis, that there were two spigots. If this approach is true, our question of the fate of Aharon’s sons can be voided.

 The Seforno explains that this vessel was not an afterthought, but its purpose does not align with the spiritual purpose of every other vessel. Each vessel had an element of Holiness, Kedusha, in its essence. Whether it just sat there (the Ark), or had a minimal function (the Table), was used daily (the Menorah), or more often than once a day (the large and small mizbeach), there was an element of Holiness in the existence of these items that the Kiyor lacked. On the other hand, the Kiyor’s simple function set the stage for all the holiness of the Mishkan to be carried out. It was the vessel which provided the water through which the kohanim could wash their hands to perform the services of the day.

 The Chizkuni noted the placement of the Kiyor, that it was outdoors, between the Mishkan building and the Mizbeach, so the Kohanim could walk to it, and be sure to wash their hands before commencing with their service of the day. Oddly enough, they have to pass the Mizbeach before getting to the Kiyor! Wouldn’t it have made more sense for the Kiyor to be the first thing they bump into?

 Perhaps a deeper appreciation for the role of the Kiyor can be understood when we consider the materials used for making the Kiyor. The Torah tells us in Shmot 38:8 that the copper for the Kiyor was a conglomerate of mirrors which were used by women in Egypt, as Rashi there explains, to beautify themselves for their enslaved husbands, to ultimately bring about generations of Israelite children so the nation could survive.

 It would seem the message of the Kiyor is much deeper than we could imagine. Because it is a reminder to the Kohen as he approached the copper-mirror-Kiyor that he, as a servant of the people and as an agent on their behalf in the service of God, is sacrificing his uniqueness, in a sense, in order to fill a role, and fulfill a purpose on behalf of the people. He needed to walk past the Mizbeach, to see the place where sacrifices are burned, to remember why he showed up for work today. Then he could properly prepare himself when he washed his hands and feet.

 The women in Egypt, at great sacrifice, did what they needed to do to assure the survival of the nation. Every individual who brings a sacrifice, who needs it to be offered properly by the Kohen is, in a sense, sacrificing oneself. The representing agents, the kohanim, therefore, also needed to embrace the notion of self-sacrfifice on a daily basis.

 When one looks at oneself in the mirror, one has the opportunity to look deeply, and to ask oneself “Who are you? What are you? Are you worthy of this job you have? Are you worthy to represent the people? Are you worthy to bring about atonement for others?”

 Sacrificing for others is one of the most incredible callings a human being can undertake. If the role is understood and that deep introspection is taken and internalized properly, like the kohanim who washed their hands and feet and were ready to serve, we hope all those who sacrifice of themselves for the klal can merit to serve in a manner that is clean, holy, and beneficial to all, in the service of God.

Proper Role Playing

Parshat Bamidbar

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The beginning of our new book informs us of the order of travels, and how the people encamped around the Mishkan (Tabernacle). Those most immediately around the Mishkan were the Levite families, whose jobs consisted of carrying the different parts of the Mishkan. The specific assignments given to the families are enumerated at the end of the Torah portion, and spill over into next week’s parsha.

 We are told at the end of the opening chapter that when they would travel and when they would rest the Levites would disassemble and reassemble the Mishkan, with the warning that “the stranger who came close would die.” (1:51) And, as Rashi notes, this death punishment was to be carried out by God, not by Man.

 If only it were so simple.

What is My Destiny?

Being Honest About the Roles We Play in Our Lives 

(It May Take a Week to Figure It Out) 

 Parshat Shmini 

 by Rabbi Avi Billet 

 The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 11:6) records a strange narrative surrounding the appointment of Aharon and his sons as the Kohanim.

Rabbi Yudan in the name of Rabbi Yosi bar Yehuda, and Rabbi Berachia in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korkha said, All the years in the desert, Moshe served as co-Kohen Gadol as well (based on Tehillim 99:6 or Divrei Hayamim I 23:13-14).

Rabbi Yudan further notes that Moshe served for the 7 days of the Miluim (Dedication of the Mishkan). Rabbi Shmuel bar Nachman compares this to the Midrashic approach that Moshe conversed with God for 7 days at the Burning Bush. At that time, God spent six days trying to convince Moshe he was the right man for the job. On the seventh day, Moshe said, “Send someone else.”

The Midrash claims God’s unstated response was, “I swear I will clip your wings [when you want it most].” Rabbi Levi explains that for the first six days of the last Adar of his life Moshe prayed before God that he should be allowed to enter the Land of Israel. It was on the seventh day of Adar that God said to him, “You will not cross this River.”

Rabbi Chelbo said the same thing was going on in our parsha. For seven days Moshe served as Kohen Gadol and thought the position was his. On the seventh day, however, he was told, “The job is not yours. It belongs to Aharon your brother.” Thus, “And it was on the eighth day that Moshe called to Aharon and his sons, and told them…” the instructions that begin our parsha.

The combination of Rabbis Yudan, Shmuel, Levi and Chelbo leaves us wondering: what kind of games are being played in these Midrashim? Did God really punish Moshe for his hesitation to go before Pharaoh at the burning Bush? And even if God did punish him (see Rashi Shmot 4:14), is this kind of measure for measure really necessary? You, Moshe, played on God’s hopes for 6 days, and then let Him down on day 7, so He is going to play on your hopes for 6 days and let you down on day 7! Ha! Gotcha!

Really?!

One piece of this Midrash – which stands almost as an aside to the Midrash’s narrative – could provide the answer to our question (also in Yerushalmi Yoma 1:1). “Rabbi Tanchum said that Moshe served all 7 days as Kohen Gadol, and God’s presence was not apparent through his hand.”

There is an opinion (Shemot Rabba 37:1, Rashi Zevachim 19b sv “Moshe V’Aharon”), which  Rabbi Zev Volf of Horadna (commentary on the Midrash) attributes to Rabbi Eliezer b’rabi Yehuda, that Moshe only served during that 7-day period. Perhaps this approach – rather than the one that he was an equal Kohen Gadol for 39 years – can help us resolve our quandary.

It is only after Moshe lets go, when Moshe resigns himself to the reality that he and Aharon have separate roles and that Moshe does not need to do everything, that he can once again serve in the role he was meant to serve, to bring the presence of God down to the people.

If his cup is too full, if he is trying to serve as leader and as Kohen Gadol, God’s presence can not be felt. Moshe is too distracted.

So why the week-long game? Why does Moshe need to be played in the same manner that he “played” God into thinking he wanted the role of leader at the Burning Bush?

Because 6-7 days is a decent amount of time to know whether a person likes something, whether it is something a person can go with, continue doing, or whether it is something that is just wrong.

For 6 days at the Burning Bush, Moshe raised every objection, and each one was answered. No one will believe you? Here are signs. You can’t speak? Your brother Aharon will be with you. You don’t know my name? Here it is. Pharaoh won’t believe you? I have a plan.

Moshe holds out for six days, and on the last day he throws in the zinger, “Eh, I never wanted the job to begin with.” Moshe, how could you say such a thing to God?

Therefore Moshe is given the message twice – once at the beginning of his career, and once at the end of his career. You never wanted the job – and it took you six days to actually say the truth? Now that you want the job of Kohen Gadol, or the right to go into the Land, it will take six days until God reveals the truth to you.

At the same time, you need to understand that it’s not your destiny. There are other factors at play. Aharon is Kohen Gadol because you can’t double up. And you can’t lead the people in to the Land, because that role requires a different kind of leader – a person who lives in the trenches, who identifies with the people in a way you could not when your leadership was called into question. Rashi on Devarim 2:16 says that God did not communicate with Moshe in a significant way for 38 years. He only got his last hurrah and final communication with God when he was about to die.

Be a straight shooter, know your role, don’t seek more than necessary, understand where your strengths fit into your destiny, and carve out a life that puts together all of these ingredients. These are the important lessons we can learn from Moshe’s occupational revelation at the beginning of Parshat Shemini.

Doing What We Are Commanded to Do*

Here are two more blog posts about the "tefillin scandal" referenced below.
http://arabbiwithoutacause.blogspot.com/2014/02/women-and-tefillin-online-saga.html
http://arabbiwithoutacause.blogspot.com/2016/01/chiddush-about-women-and-tefillin.html
Of course the real tefillin scandal is this - how lost tefillin ended up in Alabama: http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/mitzvah-rabbi-finds-returns-pairs-tefillin-article-1.1854447

Parshat Tetzaveh

by Rabbi Avi Billet

This week we will devote our attention to two of the many Midrashic passages on our parsha. After describing the clothes of the Kohanim , the Torah tells us, "V'zeh Hadavar – and this is what you should do for them, to sanctify them to be kohanim for Me," bring certain requisite animals as sacrifices. (29:1)

The Midrash Rabba (38:2) quotes a verse in Habbakuk (1:12) - "Are you not from everlasting (mikedem), O Lord, my God, my Holy One? We shall not die…" In other words – You, God, are immortal – why aren't humans? The Midrash suggests that until Adam ate from the forbidden tree he was supposed to be immortal. Death was brought to the world, however, once he did what he was commanded to not-do.

The argument the Midrash advances is, "God, if you want us to be holy and sanctified and separate, then remove death from among us – as You said in Habakkuk." Give us a chance! Life is too short! The answer is given in the same verse "Lamishpat samto" – they have been ordained for judgment – in other words, they will nonetheless die. (Interestingly, the word "samto" can be read "she'metoo" – that they die.) Do your best with your limited time. But perhaps learn from the example of Adam – you have mitzvot you are given and mitzvot you are not given (or ones you are told "not" to do). Embrace your role.

On the same verse from the parsha (29:1), the Midrash (38:8) asks, "With what merit was Aharon able to enter the Holy of Holies?... the merit of circumcision. It says "B'zot" Aharon enters (Vayikra 16:3), and it says "Zot" my covenant (Bereshit 17:10). And as Malachi (2:5) notes "My covenant was with him, of life and peace." (The Midrash has another interpretation that the word "Zeh" (this) has a numerical value of 12, and perhaps he carried the merit of the 12 tribes with him.)

Most women I know are quite pleased that bris milah is something relegated to males only (except for a female Reform rabbi I once conversed with – she felt the women were getting the raw end of the deal on that one. I don't think she understood that all Jews are part of the Covenant. It's just that the males bear the mark of the Covenant in their flesh). With this in mind, however, the notion of the merit of circumcision protecting Aharon could certainly stand as one of the reasons why a woman could never serve as Kohen Gadol.

It should be noted that though most Jewish males are, in fact, circumcised, there are many other barriers preventing us (I include myself) from ever being a High Priest – such as not being a kohen. We are fine with this (as was the convert in Shabbat 31a who learned he could not be the Kohen Gadol.)

A lot of time and energy has been expended in the wake of the "tefillin scandal" involving a couple of Orthodox Jewish High Schools in New York City. One of the rabbis involved with the issue delivered a sermon which was disseminated on the internet entitled, "Much Ado About Something."

I respectfully disagree with the message conveyed by the title, simply because I don't see Orthodox girls banging down doors to wear tefillin.

Rabbi Marc Angel wrote about this issue in his weekly blog (jewishideas.org) this week, stating, "If for whatever reasons halakha has exempted women from the commandment of tefillin, should women feel that their spirituality is thereby diminished?... Prayer is an inner spiritual experience, dependent on one’s spiritual frame of mind. Wearing tefillin does not make one pray better; not wearing tefillin does not prevent one from meaningful prayer."

Before concluding with an important reminder to the community about prayers and spirituality in general, Rabbi Angel posed this reflection: The question might be reframed from "Why shouldn’t females also be allowed to don tefillin?" to "why should females feel the need to don tefillin during prayer services if they are exempt from the mitzvah of tefillin?"

Of course the argument can be made that women are exempt from most "mitzvot she'hazman gerama" – time-bound commandments (other than Shabbos, eating Matzah on Pesach and Hakhel – gathering once every seven years in Jerusalem), but they nonetheless participate in Shofar, Sukkah, Lulav, counting Omer and saying Shema twice daily.

It is worthy to note that Maimonides claims (Laws of Tzitzis 3:9) that for all of these mitzvot, women should not say the blessing (when there is one) – which would stand to indicate that while the mitzvah performances are at best optional, they are not commanded (Hagahot Maimaniyot takes Rabbenu Tam to task for suggesting women could say the blessings when participating in these mitzvot).

And this is really the crux of the issue. Is tefillin a mitzvah that women accepted upon themselves through the millennia? It seems the answer is "No." It is very different from Shofar and Sukkah and Lulav which are basically "one-time" events on holidays that boil down to "you either show up or you miss it." They blow Shofar in shul anyway. The family is eating a meal in a sukkah anyway. So why not?

Sefirat Ha'Omer is hit or miss. I would bet that most women who do not go to shul have a smaller chance of counting the full 49 days, without missing one, each year.

Along similar lines to sefirah – except that it is all year – tefillin, the way the mitzvah is fulfilled today (in shul, daily) is a very different kind of commitment that women never accepted. So while all of the others are mitzvot in which women participate, they are different kinds of mitzvot. And their obligation, acceptance and responsibility is not one women need to bear except that it is convenient to do so in the context of what the community is doing anyway. Stand and hear shofar. Sit and eat in the sukkah.

Not to bring the following argument to its full obvious conclusion (which kind of relates to the Midrash quoted at the outset – I am not suggesting a death punishment for anyone!), but Nadav and Avihu tried to fulfill a mitzvah they weren't supposed to fulfill. When the dust settled, their father didn't cry out, "What, God? Are you denying my children the chance to fulfill a mitzvah?" Aharon was silent. Because he knew that they had brought "a strange fire, that they had not been commanded to bring." (Vayikra 10:1)

We should all be blessed to become experts at the mitzvot relegated to us before we expand our horizons into the "uncommanded" realm. Most people never become experts at their own responsibilities. We all have the responsibility to put our own houses in order before we venture into houses that were not assigned to us.

* by "commanded" and "uncommanded" I mean that there are mitzvot from which women are exempt, even though the commandments were given to all of the Jewish People. In some cases the tradition was that women fulfilled them anyway. However, particularly with tallis and tefillin, these practices were not taken on by women - with very few exceptions in thousands of years (only one mentioned in the Talmud) - until the Conservative movement introduced Tefillin to women in the 20th century.

There are a number of circumstances in which men are exempted from performing certain mitzvot as well: 

ספר אבודרהם ברכת המצות ומשפטיהם

ויש שהן פטורין לעולם בכל המצות כגון חרש שוטה וקטן (מכילתא תשא) ויש שהן פטורין לפי שעה כגון החולה והעוסק במצות והסומא. החולה שאינו יכול לכוון את דעתו פטור מן המצות הצריכות כונה. ואם הכביד עליו חוליו לפי כובד חוליו יהיה פטורו. ותנן (סוכה כה) חולין ומשמשיהן פטורין מן הסוכה. והעוסק במצוה פטור מן המצוה ותנן (ברכות טו, ב) חתן פטור מק"ש בלילה הראשון ותניא (סוכה כו', א) ר' יעקב אומר כותבי ספרים תפילין ומזוזות ותגריהן ותגרי תגריהן וכל העוסקים במלאכת שמים לאתויי מוכרי תכלת פטורין מק"ש ומן התפלה ומן התפילין ומכל מצות האמורות בתורה וכן מי שמתו מוטל לפניו והשומר את המת והסומא תניא בבבא קמא בפרק החובל (פז, א) ר' יהודה אומר סומא אין לו בושה וכן היה ר' יהודה פטרו מכל מצות שבתורה.

READ MORE ABOUT THE TEFILLIN SAGA (including links to the articles referred to above) HERE

Proper Education: Tumah and the Shema

Parshat Emor

by Rabbi Avi Billet

"And God said to Moshe, 'Say to the Kohanim, the sons of Aharon, and say to them, they should not become 'tameh' to people of the nation.'" (Vayikra 23:1)

            

The opening instruction in our parsha is for the kohanim to learn that they must follow a strict behavior, in which under ordinary circumstances they can only become "tameh" to a dead body if the deceased is one of the seven close relatives.

But the language utilized to relay this rule is strange. Instead of informing us that "God spoke (Vay'daber) to Moshe to say" the Torah says, "God said (Vayomer) to Moshe, "Say…" (Emor) And then it repeats the root word meaning "say" with the instruction of "V'amarta" – you will say to them.

            

Ramban says there is nothing special to be learned from this language. Emor is the same as Daber – it's a call to gather, listen and pay attention.

            

Yet one wonders, since there is a difference between the word "Daber" – Speak! and "Emor" – Say. "Speak" means you will address them saying the following idea, perhaps in your own words. "Say" means, "Here is a script you must follow."

            

The out-of-the-ordinary repetition of the root "Emor" is brought to our attention by Rashi, who, quoting a gemara (end of Yevamot 114a), says "'Emor... V'Amarta' comes to tell the big people (adults) to teach the little people (children) about the laws of tumah."

            

The midrashic book compiled in the Geonic period, Pitron Torah, explains that the first "say" teaches kohanim not to become tameh. The second "say" teaches kohanim the exception: if a kohen happens to come across a "met mitzvah" – a corpse on the road – he is to bury the body.

            

When Maimonides discusses the teaching of the Gemara (Hilchot Eivel 3:12), he says that a kohen-minor is to be taught not to become tameh. And while if he chooses to become tameh himself the court is not commanded to have him desist from being in a tameh arena, his father must educate him in the ways of "kedushah" – the holiness and sanctity that he must maintain as a kohen.

            

The Ta"z makes a similar point in Y"D 373, when he pinpoints the word "chinukh" as being the primary mode of operation determining the adult's responsibility to each child. The Pischei Teshuvah defines "chinukh" in his own comment on the Shulchan Arukh there as teaching so that "he can be punctilious in his fulfillment of the mitzvah when he reaches majority." ("she'yizaher l'kayem hamitzvah k'she'yagdil")

            

The kohen certainly has a job to educate his son in the ways of kohen responsibilities - in addition to the laws of tumah. For example, kohen children should be taught by their fathers how to duchen, and all kohanim must be sure that when they duchen they do so correctly (see Shulchan Arukh OC 128:8-end).

            

But "chinukh" is not confined to kohanim and their children. It is within the purview of all parents to properly educate their children, so that when their children reach majority they will know how to fulfill their mitzvah responsibilities properly.

            

Let us take a look at one of the first mitzvot we train our children to fulfill. While there are no official statistics, in my own work with children, I have found approximately 85% are being trained incorrectly. The flaw may lie in teachers, schools, parents or children. Or, perhaps, a combination of all four.

            

Some people may follow the Shulchan Arukh Orach Chaim 62:1, who says that even though it is a mitzvah to be exact in the reading of the Shema, if one is not perfectly exact, one fulfills one's obligation. But the Mishnah Brurah there says this is referring to all the subtleties that are raised in the entire Siman 61 about how to read the Shema punctiliously, precisely, and perfectly. However, if words or letters are outright misread, the Shema is being read improperly and the mitzvah is not fulfilled.

The problem is so pervasive that I even heard it on the "Shema @ Bed" app I have my daughter use to help her with the evening Shema.

            

In the first paragraph alone, most people make at least one mistake, and most children make at least two others. After the opening two sentences, the first word is "v'ahavTA," with the accent on the last syllable. Reading it this way means, "You shall love Hashem your God." When the accent is placed on the second to last syllable ("v'aHAVta") the words means "and you loved Hashem your God" in the past tense. This is one of many accent errors people make in reading Shema.

            

The other two very common mistakes are on words that are learned through listening and repeating, sounding out what (kids think) they hear, and not reading the words they are saying. The second to last word of the phrase "B'shiv'tkha B'veitekha uv'lekh't'kha baderekh u'v'shokh'b'kha uv'kumekha" is so commonly read as "B'shov't'kha" one can likely attribute it to confusion with the first word of the phrase as quoted as they now sound so similar. But there is a big difference between saying that you must review the words of the Shema "when you are laying down" (b'shokh'b'kha = the correct way) than "when you are returning" (B'shov't'kha = the incorrect way).

            

The last very common mistake is made when the first word of the last sentence of the first paragraph (and again when it appears in the second paragraph) is read as if it's the same as the first word of the previous sentence. We are told to tie the tefillin (u'k'shartam) and to write the mezuzah (u'kh'tavtam). Despite what many kids say when they read the Shema, we are not commanded to tie the mezuzah to the doorpost – u'k'shartam al mezuzot beitekha…

            

Perhaps all the emphasis on the root "Emor" (to say) at the opening of the parsha stands as a reminder that proper chinukh takes place when we take the time to say what needs to be said and to be heard. And, perhaps, in the case where the mitzvah is fulfilled through saying something, and following a script exactly, making sure it is said correctly.

            

Test your children. Be shocked or pleasantly surprised. Complain to the school or do not. Fix the problem if you can. (Shulchan Arukh 61:24 recommends leining the Shema every time!) Do proper Chinukh, making sure they read the words from the siddur so that when they reach the age of mitzvot, they can fulfill the mitzvah of reading the Shema properly.

Irrelevance is Relative

Parshat Emor

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Last week I was privileged to teach a class about Mikveh to a group of non-Orthodox Jews. The first ten minutes of the class focused on the concepts of "tumah" and "taharah" and how every single-word or two-word "translation" of each of these words does not do justice to the discussion. Neither people or animals are "unclean," or "contaminated," or "impure."  They can be "tameh" or be in a status of "tumah" (or be "tahor" or in a status of "taharah"). This does not reflect a hygiene issue even in the slightest.

In discussing the concept of "tumah" – which I define as a "spiritual status which bars something or someone from participating in a holy act" – the question was raised as to how much tumah plays a role in our lives today. Without the Temple in Jerusalem, which contained the system and formula for getting rid of tumah – as well as the major source for the need to do such - much of the tumah discussions are irrelevant today.

We do remove tumah with water when we ritually wash our hands and when we go to the mikveh. However, without the Red Heifer (Bamidbar 19), everyone of us is "tameh" in some manner.

            

This leads us to our parsha, which opens with a tumah warning that is still largely practiced today, even in the absence of the Temple in Jerusalem. Kohanim are not to become tameh through contact with (or certain proximity to) dead bodies, with the exception of a close relative, as per the Torah's allowance.

            

When I was a senior in high school, Rav Dovid Lifshitz zt"l's wife passed away, and her funeral was actually held in the yeshiva's beis medrash. A couple of the rebbeim, who were Kohanim, took all the Kohen students to a different building and had the morning classes with them until the funeral was over. I recall going to the teachers' lounge during lunch and seeing one of the non-observant Jewish teachers who had a Priestly last name. I asked him a couple of questions about something we had been learning, and then he lowered his voice to a serious tone and asked me, "Is the funeral still going on?" I told him it was. He said, "I probably shouldn't be in the building. Right?"

            

The Midrash Rabba 26:6 quotes the verse in Tehillim 19:10 that says "Fear of God is pure, enduring forever." Rabbi Levi taught, "From the fear that Aharon reserved for God, he merited that this section in the Torah was given to him and his descendants until the end of time – and never becomes irrelevant. This refers to the section about how to deal with a dead body, as it says 'God said to Moshe to tell the Kohanim, the sons of Aharon…'"

            

A few paragraphs earlier (26:3) the Midrash recounted the fact that in the times of King David, little children knew how to understand and explain all the facets of the laws of tumah and taharah. I would equate this notion (on a limited scale) to some of the laws of kosher with which our children these days are largely familiar.

            

My two year old can distinguish between a dairy and meat dish. He understands that when I say a treat in the supermarket he has his eye on is "not kosher," there is nothing to discuss because we don't eat that.

            

When you are living and breathing a reality, kids soak it up from the moment they have any conscious notion of understanding.

            

Over the last couple of months, I have read a number of articles (see here and here) as well as a book review, that address the never overstated concern over "what we're doing to keep our kids interested in remaining observant Jews." It is easy to create form-fitting robots who go through the motions of washing and bentching and davening in shul, but are we reaching the neshama (soul)? Is there depth to the commitment? Will an unanswerable question prop itself up one day and shatter everything?

            

Do we even know what our goals ought to be in this matter of a lifestyle we call "observance?" How do we reconcile the fact that over half of the counted commandments in the Torah do, in fact, have no relevance to our lives in the Temple's absence?

            

This is why I think classes like the mikveh class, which revisit an old topic for some, but a new one for others, is such a healthy task to undertake:

We need to look at everything with a fresh eye. We need to question the role of tumah and taharah in our lives, and we need to understand why we still run from eating animals that are in the tameh category.

            

We need to recognize that the more we expose children to the truths of our Jewish lives from a younger age, the more aptly they will pick it up and "get it." And they will hopefully understand that a single bad experience or a specific unscrupulous individual need not be the cause for rejecting all of the Torah.  

            

And finally, we must treasure the kohanim, the last ones to carry the remnant of this ritual on a daily basis. A true testament to their "fear of God" is how much kohanim who bless the people take pride in their role and take extra care not to put themselves in a position that may compromise their ability to fulfill their mitzvah of blessing the people.

            

May we all merit to have a commitment and dedication to our Judaism as the kohanim (for the most part) have to their role in the Jewish community – a role that has somehow survived (in modified form) through two Temple destructions and thousands of years of exile.