Author: Eve Posen

The New Normal – Parshat Metzora 5776

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New Normal

Big transitions leave you changed forever. Sometimes they leave you feeling as if it would be impossible for life to continue the way it had before. For me, I can pinpoint two such transitions: one was the death of my father, and the other was birth of our daughter. When my father died almost nine years ago, my entire world stopped. Then after shiva, when it was time to rejoin the world, the world felt different. It looked different. Something as seemingly insignificant as how I used my phone was turned completely on its head for me. I was no longer tied to my cell phone for constant health updates. I also didn’t have him calling to bless me on Shabbat anymore. Instead, the new normal was me listening to several of his old blessings that were left as recordings on my voicemail and making sure to call and check in with my mom on a regular basis.

With the birth of our sweet Shiri, my world was also turned upside-down. Our hours and days were no longer our own; they were shared with her and largely based on her schedule. Travel and vacations were suddenly limited by when and how it was appropriate to travel with an infant. Transitions are an integral part of life, but the big ones bring with them new definitions of normal in abrupt and not-so-subtle ways.

The Torah has keen insights into the transitions we face and the changes they can bring to our world, especially where death and illness are concerned. At the macro level, this week’s Torah portion, Metzora, is a pause in the narrative between the death of Aaron’s sons and his mourning process and rejoining the community. The text details the healing and purification processes, and the steps include different actions for different circumstances.

Chapter 14, verse 4 begins this reintegration process with the step-by-step approach to rejoining community. The “afflicted” may move from their home outside the camp to inside the camp, but not yet return to their home in the camp. These are the baby steps, the slow reintegration approach that allows for the marking of time and space as a person comes out of a life-changing illness.

In this approach the text recognizes the “new normal” that comes after a major life event. It is in the recognition of change that we are able to emerge and move forward. The Torah recognizes that although a transition can happen quickly, adjusting to change doesn’t happen in the blink of an eye. Rather, as a community and as individuals it takes time to move forward as well as the support of those around us to reenter society. The Torah reminds us that it is not only OK, but normal and natural to have time for a transition, and that we should embrace that space as sacred before moving forward.

One thing Judaism does exceptionally well put meaning behind transitions. From Shabbat and Havdalah we get the transition from week to weekend and back. From Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur we get yearly check-ins with ourselves as a way of transitioning from one year to the next. From a bat mitzvah, we get the ceremonial beginning of the transition into responsible Jewish adulthood. From shiva and shloshim, we get time specifically set aside for mourning and transitioning back to the world. All of these experiences, even the death of a loved one, are part of Judaism’s life-affirming tradition of celebrating the moments in between and really living the transitions.

Transitions – Parshat Tazria 5776

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Transitions

Transitions are emotional for me. I get weepy watching kids get on the camp bus for their first summer, knowing that they will return forever changed. I celebrate a pre-K graduation in the same way as I celebrate a high school graduation. The way in which we mark these transitions, with a bittersweet mix of the joy of anticipation plus a little sadness at the passing of what was, fills my heart completely. Transitions are simultaneously scary because of the unknown and thrilling because of the accomplishment.

As Jews there are many moments of transition that we mark in our lives. Smaller moments of transition like lighting Shabbat candles or celebrating Havdalah help us to transition weekly in and out of holy space. Big moments like becoming a parent might be recognized with an aliyah to the Torah or a baby naming. A bar or bat mitzvah is marked as a transition with the recitation of Shehechiyanu and acknowledgment of the day, among many other related events.

Interestingly, one common theme found in several of our traditional Jewish transitions is the use of water. Both in Jewish weddings and burials, we see water used in purification. This week we read from parshat Tazria, one of two portions in the Torah that deal explicitly and fully with transitioning in and out of states of purity. The text begins with the notion of “impurity,” specifically including the transitional time after childbirth, and continues with the treatments and prescriptions for what to do when a person is in need of cleansing of both body and material items in order to re-enter society.

At the outset this parshah looks as though it is strictly medical in nature, but it is actually speaking to the core of what it means to be a people. Each of these moments in life (childbirth, illness, etc.) represents a change in the status of your body and your daily life. This fluctuation in the connection to self is a type of transition. As we already know, the Torah reminds us that transition demands ceremony, and the ceremony most often used is that of the ritual bath in the mikvah. This spiritual immersion in living waters is a physical step toward inward and outward purification.

The Torah of purification is a Torah that understands that life experiences change us in ways that need to be noted and even celebrated, and the use of water in these events serves as a purifier because water is the source of sustenance and life. Going to the mikvah is a beautiful way to mark a moment of transition, whether for conversion, marriage, or otherwise. We recognize the sacredness in marking these moments and moving forward through life’s many changes. Though they may be emotional or they may be mundane, Parshat Tazria reminds us to “dive in” and embrace our transitions.

You’re Famous – Parshat Shmini 5776

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You're Famous

One problem with instant celebrity is that there is no adjustment period. It’s, well, instant. How can we possibly expect anyone who has gained power and influence overnight to wield it appropriately? With the speed of communication and spread of ideas we now enjoy, one day an amateur musician might record herself to share a song with friends on YouTube, and the next day find herself inundated with contract offers and demanding fans. The consequence of being thrust into the public eye is that suddenly no experience, no moment, is private. For however long that fame lasts, all eyes are on you, and all your actions are being viewed and judged.

Aaron’s sons, as we learn in parshat Shmini, are a little like the Justin Biebers of their day – their transformation to priesthood gives them instant celebrity. The text begins with the anointing and first acts of Nadav and Avihu as they make their entrance into the “celebrity” of the priesthood, and then it continues with specific details about how they should act in giving an offering.

From the very first moments with their new status, we see a pattern that might seem familiar if you follow pop culture at all. Nadav and Avihu instantly let the celebrity go to their heads and instead of following the laws of leadership and service to God, they make their own rules concerning sacrifice. And in an instant, they change the state of their leadership from responsible to power-hungry.

Chapter 10, verse 3 of sefer Vayikra reads:

Then Moses said to Aaron, “This is what the Lord meant when He said: ‘Through those near to Me I show Myself holy, and gain glory before all the people.’ Aaron was silent.”

We interpret this to mean that those who stand out as leaders will be given privilege not to be above the law, but to teach and preach the law and to preside with justice and civility. Sadly, Nadav and Avihu mistake their privilege for a kind of God-like invincibility, and that is their ultimate end.

Given the right combination of fuel, kindling, and spark, ideas and opinions spread like wildfire in our digital universe. We easily forget that having thousands of Twitter followers doesn’t give you permission, it gives you accountability. Parshat Shmini is a stark reminder that it is our responsibility to carry this influence beyond personal gain to the betterment of our world.