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.

Why Eat Kosher?

Parshat Shmini

by Rabbi Avi Billet

According to my Concordance, the root word "Kosher" appears three times in the Bible (in Esther and Ecclesiastes) – not once in the Torah. Ask anyone with a decent familiarity with the Torah how many times "the laws of Kosher" are discussed in the Torah, and you'll get a few different answers, ranging from three to close to ten.

As much as the word "Kosher" is not utilized in the Torah, the terms which are employed are "tumah" and "taharah" as well as the negative form of "not-tahor" – referring to all the different kinds of permutations of animals which are fit (literal meaning of "kosher") or unfit for Torah-abiding-consumption.

 In its discussion of these laws at the end of Parshat Shmini, the distinction between tameh (oft-translated as "spiritually impure") and tahor ("spiritually pure") is invoked, as a distinction is made between animals which are permitted to be consumed and animals which are forbidden to be eaten.

 In his commentary on the Torah, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch has a 17-page essay (Feldheim edition) on the lessons and laws that are derived from these distinctions. He also makes reference to a similarly lengthy discussion on the subject in his book "Horeb" – Chapter 68, Forbidden Foods.

 In Horeb, Hirsch profoundly states that the dietary laws have nothing to do with health. In fact, he claims that if one ingests the "impure" foods, "you may be more nourished and better fed, but the animal instinct will be aroused more strongly within you, and your body becomes more blunted as an instrument of the spirit… You become 'tameh,' impure, less capable of your holy mission, and you should really be 'anshei kodesh,' [people] of sanctity, members of a great, holy institution."

 Along similar lines, his commentary on the Torah cries out that "the reason for these laws is not bodily health, but the moral integrity of our souls… to ensure the spiritual and moral health of our souls." Guarding what one eats doesn't assure a spiritual holiness, but it gives one the ability to attain it. "Tumah" – the spiritual impurity addressed by the Torah – is largely defined as death, and contact with death. But it is also an idea, notion, or conception (as Hirsch puts it) that is not something concrete, that is associated with certain living animals and creatures – the ones we would nowadays call "unkosher."

 In the Orthodox world, "Kosher" does not need much of a sales pitch. Efforts of the kashrus organizations have made accessibility to kosher foods in the United States a fairly easy endeavor. In the non-Orthodox world, there are many who only buy kosher, and there are also many who do not. Some claim it is too hard, some claim it is too expensive. These arguments are sometimes true and sometimes not true.

 At the same time, living in a society in which people are well aware of, and on top of outbreaks and scares associated with foodstuffs (including in vegetables), we can drop the notion that some people have that kosher is "healthier."

 With few exceptions, such as the process of manufacturing wine and the mixing of dairy and meat (and, of course, the proper preparation of the meat of "tahor" animals), "kosher" means that the ingredients do not include "tumah" animals or their byproducts, or that the food in question was not cooked or processed on machinery or in utensils in which the same animals or their byproducts were cooked or processed (unless the machines or utensils were kashered first).

 While some may claim to understand all the sentiments behind "tumah," most will readily admit they do not. At the same time, we are happy to add that if it is important enough for God to spend so much time in his Torah discussing these rules, they are clearly there for our benefit.

 And if, as Hirsch argues, ingesting only "tahor" animals and ingredients sets our bodies up for, and allows them to achieve a spirituality level that is impossible if we are fueled by "tameh" ingredients, those looking to achieve such a status – whatever it means and however it may be defined, will only view the kosher laws as a gift rather than a burden.

 This is a question of spiritual health and not physical health. And as true spirituality is more or less defined by the Torah, rather than an emotional feeling some people who are "spiritual" sometimes speak of, observance of these rules in nourishing the body is the first ticket towards achieving the Torah prescribed nourishment of the soul that we hopefully yearn to achieve in our lifetimes.

The Relevance of a Tangent

Acharei Mot - Aharon's Dead Sons - Part II?

by Rabbi Avi Billet
Aharon's sons died three parshas ago, in Parshat Sh'mini, and nary a word has been said about them. Our parsha opens mentioning their deaths, seeming to pick up exactly where the Torah took a break in its narrative to discuss other things.

Is there any significance to a multi-chapter tangent from the regular narrative of the Torah?

Only if the Torah doesn't view the tangent as a disruption of the narrative.

Shortly after his sons died, Aharon received one of his rare personal revelations from G-d in Vayikra 10:8-11. In addition to laws specific to their situation as mourners, he and his remaining sons were informed of "how to distinguish between holy and mundane, between tamei and tahor, so they may teach the Israelites the laws G-d had taught through Moshe."

The two and half parshas which followed those words were a blur of adherence to this code. Through Moshe and Aharon, the Israelites were then taught of the laws of what makes an animal tahor or tamei, fit to be used in the Temple, for sacrifices, offerings and for consumption, versus unfit and undesired by G-d.

Then Moshe and Aharon received divine instruction about the different kinds of tumahs that will come about, whether on account of tzara'at of the flesh, on clothing or of the home, or on account of a bodily emission.

What is the connection between all the discussions of tumah and taharah that follow the deaths of Nadav and Avihu? How is this five-chapters-long tangent significant to their story, causing the Torah to continue its narrative in our parsha beginning with the words "G-d spoke to Moshe after the deaths of the two sons of Aharon?"

I think it is because Nadav and Avihu served as an incredible study in contrasts. They tried to achieve holiness and purity, and ended up dying and becoming the greatest form of tumah a person can become in death.

Humans have a choice in terms of what animals they will eat. The Torah gives two options: will a person choose the route of taharah (spiritual purity), or will a person choose animals that are tamei, not preferred by G-d to be sources of human consumption?

People have a choice in terms of how they will conduct themselves, in deed and in certain behaviors, to possibly bring tumah upon themselves. Tzara'at, most often caused by lashon hara, was an affliction only a kohen could diagnose. It was accompanied by requisite tumah, which could only be purged with a unique isolation and subsequent sacrificial rite. Perhaps many people were afflicted with the ailment on account of their speculation over what caused Nadav and Avihu to die.

For other tumah circumstances, the kohen was on hand to help the person achieve taharah once again.

In all these discussion of tumah and taharah, it soon becomes highly significant that Nadav and Avihu are missing from the equation. Forty percent of the original kohen work force disappeared in an instant, leaving only three kohanim to do the job on behalf of the people.

Nowhere is this felt more significantly than in the Holy Temple on Yom Kippur, the topic addressed in Acharei Mot's opening, the day when the kohanim were the focus, and all kohanim stood to assist and facilitate the efforts of the High Priest in his attempt to achieve atonement for the people on the holiest day of the year.

Our lives are a delicate balance between tamei and tahor – being unfit to serve and correcting ourselves to be able to serve G-d appropriately. The holiday of Pesach, which took place two weeks after the deaths of Aharon's sons, stood as a pivotal moment for many who were looking to partake in the Korban Pesach.

How do we get past the devastating downside of the past few weeks - the marking of Aharon's sons' deaths on the calendar, and the notable uncertainty that prevails in our own times -  in order to celebrate the Festival of Freedom? We learn about the delicate balance of our lives, and make every effort to recognize the good in others and purge our homes of the kinds of food which don't belong.

Now that we have achieved personal holiness, we read about Yom Kippur, the highlight of national holiness. And we understand what we strive to attain in our lives, whenever our minds are focused on our true priorities: God, Torah on the bein adam lamakom (between man and God) side, and Family and Friends on the bein adam lachaveiro (between human beings) side.
 
May we never lose sight of these focii as we reach great heights in the mountain-climb that is our lives.