Transitions – Parshat Tazria 5776

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

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.

From the Fire – Parshat Tzav 5776

From the Fire

In Rabbi Isaak’s speech at Congregation Neveh Shalom’s annual meeting last June, he joked that perhaps his title will remain “New Rabbi” and incoming senior rabbi, Rabbi Kosak, will become “Newer Rabbi.” The inside joke is that to some of our life-long members who were around when Rabbi Isaak was installed as senior rabbi, he remained the “new rabbi,” even after 22 years of service to our community. This is much more than light-hearted self-deprecation; it’s a testament to the beautiful relationship that this congregation has with its clergy. It is rare to see a congregation with two rabbi emeriti, and rarer still that the congregation would maintain such a love and respect for multiple rabbis across multiple decades.

To our modern sensibilities, it seems innate to obsess over the latest and greatest anything. However, our parshah this week is an eloquent reminder that part of what makes new things special is the history of what came before them. Parshat Tzav begins with a review of the instructions for the priests in regard to various types of sacrifices. The instructions detail things like what time of day the sacrifices are to be made and by whom they are to be consumed. The text continues with instructions on kosher eating and concludes with a review of how priests are sanctified in their role as leaders.

Early in the discussion of the day-to-day life of a priest, the Torah commands that the first act they do every morning is to put on ordinary clothes and remove the ashes of the previous night’s sacrifice. Literally, it’s a ceremony for cleaning the fireplace. I don’t know about you, but cleaning my fireplace hardly seems ceremonial. I love the role of charming chimney sweep Bert in Mary Poppins as much as anyone, but let’s be honest – that’s a very romanticized portrayal of a very dirty job. I have a gas-burning fireplace strictly so I can avoid this task altogether.

As high a title as the priests had, they were by no means spoiled. Their job as spiritual leaders of the people included housekeeping tasks. But the question remains, why was it so important that the leftover dirt from the previous day be treated with pomp and circumstance? The Torah answers with the notion that what was holy yesterday must still be treated with reverence today. That is to say that while the remains might be ashes now, not long ago they were a holy offering to God.

These words are a helpful reminder in the “new, newer, newest” world in which we live. It is to those who came before us, those upon whose shoulders we stand, that we owe our place in life and the freedoms we enjoy. I couldn’t be prouder to have a place among this incredible legacy of clergy at Neveh Shalom. This is a hallmark of Judaism: we stand on the work of our past and use that to inform and influence our future.