Blood is the Soul

...so don't put it in your mouth!

Parshat Acharei Mot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

The coming holiday of Pesach always brings back images of blood – Blood as a sign on the doorpost, that is. The Shakh, in his commentary on Parshat Bo, claims the blood that was placed on the doorposts was a combination of the blood of the lamb and blood gathered in a major circumcision festival that was necessary to allow people to partake of the Korban Pesach (Paschal lamb). He specifically identifies the blood from the circumcision as coming from the act of circumcision and the removal of the mucosal membrane (no mention of from the act of metzitzah!).

            

Of course, in that context, the blood served as a “reminder” (so to speak) to God of the covenant that connected our people to Him for eternity. The sign, as it were, was significant for the people as well, because their own blood was in it. (Maimonides,Guide 3:46, quoting the teaching from Yechezkel 16:6)

            

Prohibition of Consuming Blood: Of the Dead, AND of the Living

I wrote this before the Boston Massacre and the events in West, Texas and MIT this week. It is my response to the "scandal" involving Rabbi Michael Broyde that I learned of last Shabbos, and which was all the rage on the internet before the Boston Marathon. My sermon this week will address these issues.
Condolences to the Stern family on account of their tragedy this week.

Acharei Mot - Kedoshim

by Rabbi Avi Billet

William Faulkner was a master of writing single sentences that span an entire page. Though they run on and on, the sentences could not be marked as "run-on" by a grammar teacher. It is a unique skill possessed by the loquacious, which marvels readers.

            

The longest sentence I am aware of in the Torah has 34 words in it (Shmot 32:1). The Torah certainly doesn't hold its breath in making a point. And sometimes takes several sentences to do so. But sometimes one has to wonder why the Torah goes on and on about something which could otherwise be expressed in much fewer words.

            

Towards the end of Vayikra 17, the Torah tells us (as it does in Bereishit 9, Vayikra 3, 7, 19 and Devarim 12) not to eat blood. Were I to write such a commandment, I would write once "You may not eat blood of humans or animals." Pretty clear.

            

But the Torah does not do this. In addition to writing about it 5 times, in three different books, the Torah says the following in our parsha:

"If any person, whether of the family of Israel or a proselyte who joins them, eats any blood, I will direct My anger against the person who eats blood and cut him off [spiritually] from among his people. This is because the life-force of the flesh is in the blood; and I therefore gave it to you to be [placed] on the altar to atone for your lives. It is the blood that atones for a life, and I therefore told the Israelites, 'Let none of you eat blood.' A proselyte who joins you shall [likewise] not eat blood. If any man, whether of the family of Israel or a proselyte who joins them, traps an animal or bird that may be eaten and spills its blood, he must cover [the blood] with earth.  [All this] is because every living creature has its blood associated with its life-force. Tell the Israelites not to eat any blood, since the life-force of all flesh is in its blood. Whoever eats it shall be cut off [spiritually]."         (Vayikra 17:10-14)

Not only is the prohibition very clear, but the other factors thrown in essentially amount to the same idea: "A Jewish person may not eat blood."

Perhaps the message behind the over-and-over element of these instructions is reflective of another prohibition we have in our double parsha – Vayikra 19:16, "Do not stand idly over the blood of your neighbor."

All of these images of blood remind me of the excited pronouncement by the great swordsman Inigo Montoya who, on the verge of storming the castle and avenging the death of his father, exclaimed, "There will be blood tonight!"

We live in a time when we can have a more complete understanding and appreciation of what a book that transcribes one's every deed might look like. We can call it the Internet.

I once participated in a conference where a Reform rabbi was presenting material for High Holiday sermons (he was quite knowledgeable) and he kept on referring to his own "teshuvah process" and how it helped him develop some of the ideas he was sharing. Someone in the room asked, "What are you referring to?" and he said that as a young rabbi he had made a terrible mistake and was unfaithful in his marriage. One time. And kept the secret for 20 years – at which point, it came out.

He said, "Google my name – this story is the first one that will come up. And I have to live with that." He had traveled to the deepest and darkest places in his soul, his marriage and family fell apart, and he had to put his life back together.

Hearing all this, I was struck by a flood of contradictory feelings. At first judgmental, and then forgiving. "You wicked person. Have you no soul? How could you! And you're a rabbi!" was followed by, "You have gone through so much, hiding your secret, being outed, losing everything, and your personal teshuvah. Perhaps God has forgiven you. Why can't I?"

The experience is still haunting because I am not sure which feeling is correct. Or are both proper?

In our life experiences, we will always find people who make errors. No one is perfect. "To err is human, to forgive – divine" said Alexander Pope. And he was on to something.

Perhaps the blood references in our double parsha are reminding us not to look to skewer someone when we don't like what they've done. We can't stand by idly when blood is being spilled – even the blood of the guilty. And we may not look to exact the vengeance Inigo Montoya was looking to have with his father's killer.

There are cases where we can draw a line and say there's no going back. I personally have no sympathy for terrorists, deliberate murderers, thieves, or those who commit forceful crimes of a sexual nature. Immoral crimes between consenting adults is a different story – they make a very poor choice, have their own demons to deal with, and will certainly pay for their crimes in their families and communities and with God. And the same is true of other examples of poor judgment, particularly when a crime has been committed. 

And I certainly hope the same is true when no crime has been committed. That forgiveness from humans will be more readily sought.

Do all "misdeeds" warrant everyone else to skewer the guilty and seek their blood over and over and over again? If that were the case, many in our community would not be able to pass muster. No one is perfect. We all bend corners and rules when we can. Perhaps the Torah is saying that when blood is spilled, it is its own punishment. But then we are required to cover the blood and move on to the next story. A life which has seen a dark side of mistakes and poor choices has its own recovery to go through.

But we may not devour, eat and consume the blood. We don't stand idly by while blood is spilled. We make room for a teshuva process and hope that we can all merit to achieve what Alexander Pope declared to be a divine trait – to forgive and move on.

A Sign For YOU

Parshat Bo

by Rabbi Avi Billet

When one reads through Shmot Chapter 12, it becomes quite clear that blood will play a significant role in bringing about the salvation of the Hebrew slaves at the midnight hour when Egypt will be struck its most devastating blow.

Verses 7, 13, 22 and 23, when run together, read something like this.
"They must take the blood and place it on the two doorposts and on the beam above the door of the houses in which they will eat [the sacrifice]. The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are staying. I will see the blood and pass you by (pasach). There will not be any deadly plague among you when I strike Egypt. {Instructions to the elders are to tell the people to] 'Take a bunch of hyssop and dip it into the blood that [will be placed] in a basin. Touch the beam over the door and the two doorposts with some of the blood in the basin. Not a single one of you may go out the door of his house until morning. God will then pass through to strike Egypt. When he sees the blood over the door and on the two doorposts, God will pass over that door, and not let the force of destruction enter your houses to strike.'"

The Ktav V'Hakabalah asks a seemingly obvious question. Does God really need the blood as a sign? If He wants to distinguish between the Egyptians who suffer in the plague and the Israelites who are spared, could He not just say "My wonders will be proven by the fact that Egyptians will die and Israelites will not"?

Ibn Ezra rejects the notion that the blood was a derivative of a public process aimed at showing the Egyptians who is boss. Were it so, he argues, the blood would have been put on courtyard gates instead of on the doorway of homes recessed from the street, and the slaughtering of the lamb would have taken place in the daytime, instead of closer to nighttime when people are already in their homes. Ibn Ezra even derives from "The blood will be a sign for you" that you, who cannot go outside all night, will be able to see the blood because it will be on the inside of your home.

But the Ktav V'Hakabalah has an entirely different perspective, which introduces much deeper symbolism than a mere "sticking-it" to the Egyptians. The Israelites had many obstacles to their own redemption. They were idolators! They needed to achieve a spiritual purity (taharah) that had eluded them for a very long time.

The Korban Pesach (Paschal offering) was meant to serve as a first step in their stepping away from and rejection of Egyptian idolatry of the sheep. The second element of their return to God was a complete rejection of their former fears of their Egyptian masters. And the last element of their return to God was the public nature of their actions.

He brings four examples of the how they publicized the deed: First, the animals were led through the street, before the slaughtering was done publicly (#2), while the gathering of families providing the third ingredient in drawing attention. The nail in the coffin, so to speak, was placing the blood on the doorpost for all to see.

Didn't the Ibn Ezra say the blood was placed inside the home, as a sign for the Israelites alone? He did. But the Ktav V'Hakabalah is one step ahead when he quotes the Mechilta who says the blood was placed on the outside. This public display of the blood of the lamb was another step in the rejection of the sheep-as-god mentality.

All this is very nice insofar as the process through which the people go. But it does not answer whether God needed a sign! The answer is that of course God did not need a sign. If God could distinguish between which animals were Egyptian-owned and which animals were Israelite-owned, He could surely distinguish between Egyptians and Israelites.

The reason for the blood, then, is that it is through blood that covenants are forged. A blood oath involves the mixing of bloods, "The process usually provides a participant with a heightened symbolic sense of attachment with another participant." (Wikipedia, "Blood Brother")

The Shakh claims that as males who are not circumcised may not participate in the eating of the korban pesach, a major circumcision festival needed to take place (based on 12:50). As such there were ample samples of blood available to be mixed together – blood from the lamb, from the circumcisions, and from the removal of the mucosal membrane (not from metzitzah!)

The blood, therefore, becomes highly symbolic. Putting it on the door is an indicator that those in the home fulfill the will of God. But the placement of this particular mixture of blood, stands to serve as a "reminder," so to speak, to God, of the mark of the covenant that connects this people to Him for eternity. This reminder is what prevents the death force from making its way into the homes of the Israelites.

In this respect, the sign-on-the-door for humans is significant for them because their own blood is in it. But it really is for God, who reminds the people over and over that each plague was meant to make His name well known in the land. This goal is further represented by the blood on the door, a mark which is fresh, which will last long beyond when the Israelite's leave town, and will be seen by those who explore the ghost town of Goshen.

It is the symbol of God's dominance over the Egyptian deity, combined with the covenant He forged with Abraham, that brought about the creation of the nation that left Egypt with a strong hand.

The Shtick of Each Stick

I wrote this for the Jewish Star a few years ago, before they put their website together. As this came up in class today, I share it. The weekly DT will be posted later.


The Shtick of Each Stick - A Model for Role Models

From the time the youngest children learn of Moshe turning his stick into a snake, we develop an image of this fantastic magical piece of wood that can do all kinds of things. Of course a reader of the Torah knows the power is not the stick’s nor even Moshe’s, but this does not take away from the fascination we have with his “matteh.”

The Midrash, for example, describes the stick’s size and the sapphire stone imbedded in it, and even its history, claiming it was owned by Adam. The Mishnah (Avot 5:6) teaches us it was created during dusk of the sixth day of creation, along with a host of other supernatural creations. Were it an ordinary piece of wood, it would not have such press coverage.

Despite all this hoopla, it is not the only stick that demonstrates supernatural effectiveness – the other is owned by Aharon, Moshe’s brother. While both “perform” miracles, the miracles are of a different nature, perhaps along the lines of the personalities and inspiring nature of their respective owners.

The first difference is in what the stick becomes when it is thrown to the ground. Moshe’s turns into a snake before himself and the Jewish people (4:3-4 and 4:30) while Aharon’s turns into a “tannin” or amphibious creature usually identified as a crocodile in front of Pharaoh and his servants (7:9-12).

The next difference is for the plague of Blood. God tells Moshe to announce he will place his own stick over the Nile (see 7:15 and 17) while Aharon will travel around and turn individual plots of water into blood (7:19). In 7:20 Moshe and Aharon indeed go and do their respective jobs. (This is why Egyptians dug around the Nile to find water – see 7:24) To further prove that Moshe hit the water - contrary to every nice lesson we may want to learn about Moshe being saved by the water - see 17:5, when God says to Moshe "And take in your hand your staff with which you hit the יאר." Note that the word יאר refers to the River in Egypt, not the Sea which Moshe split in parshat B'Shalach. 

For the plague of Frogs, Aharon is once again called upon to use his own stick to go to the same waters he affected in 7:19. In 8:12-13, Aharon uses his own stick to bring about the Lice.

In 9:22-23 Moshe’s stick is used to hit the sky to cause the Hailstorm. In 10:12-13 Moshe waves his stick over “all of Egypt” to bring about the Locusts.

In 14:16,21, Moshe uses his stick (an extension of his hand) to effect the “splitting of the sea.”

In Shmot Chapter 17 Moshe’s stick is used twice. The first time (17:5-6), Moshe is commanded to hit the rock-well to bring forth water for the Jewish people. The second time (17:9), the stick is held in his hand as a symbol during the fight with Amalek. (Mishnah Rosh Hashana 3:8 reminds us that the Jews looked up at Moshe and his stick and were thus reminded to pray to God to help seal the victory over Amalek.)

The last two times the sticks appear are in Bamidbar 17 and 20.

In Bamidbar 17:17-24, in the aftermath of the Korach incident, Aharon’s stick blossoms to indicate Levi is the chosen tribe for the priesthood, and his stick is set aside to be a sign for potential rebels not to challenge God’s decisions.

In Bamidbar 20, the incident of Mei Merivah transpires after which Moshe and Aharon are doomed to die in the desert. Without going into details of the sin of Moshe and Aharon, it is worth pointing out that some commentaries view the stick referred to in 20:9 as being Aharon’s stick from Bamidbar 17 – to be a sign to rebels to stop complaining, and the stick used in Bamidbar 20:11 is Moshe’s stick based on the precedent from Shmot 17 of how to draw water from the rock.

What is the common theme to be garnered from these sticks?

Moshe’s stick is the stick mentioned in the Mishnah in Avot. It is supernatural, it is other-worldly, it is meant to represent on a grand scale the strength and miraculous nature of God. Everything he does is in front of a large number of people – snake in 4:30, Nile in 7:17, hitting the sky in 9:23 and waving over all of Egypt 10:13 (both visible to all), the splitting of the sea, waving his stick during battle and drawing water from a rock for a thirsty nation.

Aharon, on the other hand, does all of his miracles on a much smaller scale. The crocodile-change is only in front of Pharaoh’s court. Going around to smaller bodies of water (Blood and Frogs) and hitting the ground in one spot for Lice, will not be seen by as many people. While Aharon’s stick is meant to be a sign to rebels, the miracle that takes place with his stick blossoming is only seen by a few people, the princes of the other tribes, and by them only after the fact when they come to collect their sticks.

The role of each stick and its owner is a model for different kinds of leaders. Moshe is almost superhuman, he is even known as “Ish Ha’Elokim,” and the miracles he presides over reflect the role he plays in his relationship to God and humans. In practical terms, he is the King, the President, the Chassidishe Rebbe, the Head Rosh Yeshiva, revered Dean of an institution, or the revered Senior Senior Rabbi.

Aharon is smaller scale. He is the man of the people, the Ohaiv Shalom and Rodeph Shalom (lover and seeker of peace) who is thrust into a leadership position. In practical terms, he is the local politician, the rebbe or teacher (male or female) in yeshiva or school, the rabbi of a small shul, a parent. He is often there to give a hug to a person who needs it, and he performs little miracles every day.

Each leader type plays a role in the community and can have a profound affect on people’s lives. Many people look to “the Moshe” for inspiration, but the “Aharons” among us are no less heroes and are the ones with the real, in the trenches mission to keep people grounded and help find answers to important questions. Because the Aharons live with the people, their job is so much harder and so much more important.