Shemini
I was one of the few Jewish kids growing up who enjoyed religious school. And I’m now one of the few Jewish adults who enjoys going to services. Especially on Shabbat mornings, I settle into my seat like a mama bird settles into her nest. The whirl of the week’s activities start to slow down like a dreidel running out of steam, until I am able to lower my shoulders, focus on the prayers, and allow my soul to take flight. I am transported through the opening prayers known as Birkot Hashachar and P’sukei D’zimra, and into the main morning service. The Kedusha takes me to the heights of awareness as the words are sung, “Ani Adonai Eloheichem – I am Adonai your God.” And then it’s finally time for the Torah service.
At the end of the reading, the Torah is lifted, and that brings a smile to my face. I watch the strength of the hagba (the one who lifts the Torah), holding my breath. How will he or she balance the right versus the left side of the Torah to show it to the congregation? Most of the time one side wobbles, with an occasional gasp from the congregation. And then there’s that sigh of relief as stability takes over and we stand in awe of the scrolls before us.
This part of the service is what I am particularly missing during our absence from the in-person Shabbat celebration of our congregation. I don’t see the actual Torah scrolls, some of which were rescued from Czechoslovakia or Germany. I don’t feel the smooth cover of velvet. I don’t see the shine of the silver. And I don’t hear the Shabbat shalom greetings by congregants as the Torah is carried around the sanctuary. And I miss that moment of uncertainty that occurs as the hagba lifts the Torah high above to show the parasha to us all.
If we were to be together for this part of the service today, we would see that this week we are exactly halfway through the Torah. Parashat Shemini is the halfway point between the beginning of Genesis, or Bereishet, and the end of Deuteronomy, or Devarim. In Chapter 10 we have the middle two words: “Darosh, d’rash,” meaning to investigate thoroughly. In this case Moses was investigating the burning of a sin offering. But how appropriate it is that we are confronted by the double use of this word on the heels of Pesach, which uses the Four Questions as a means of engaging us to thoroughly investigate the inner meaning of slavery and freedom, just as our ancestors in the desert traveled from their own servitude to the Promised Land.
The parasha also includes the middle letter of the Torah, of which there are a total of 304,805. The letter vav, which looks like a hook, is within the word gachon, meaning belly. The vav, which means “hook” and looks like a hook when printed, hooks together the first half of the Torah with the second.
Within this week’s parsha we start with Aaron and his sons beginning to officiate as kohanim, or priests on the eighth day (shemini) after their inauguration. A fire issues forth from God to consume the offerings on the altar, and God’s presence comes to dwell in the mishkkan. Aaron’s two sons, Nadav and Abihu, offer a “strange fire” before God and die as a result. Aaron is silent in face of this tragedy. Moses and Aaron subsequently disagree as to a point of law regarding the offerings, but Moses concedes to Aaron that Aaron is in the right. God then commands the laws of kashrut, identifying the animal species permissible and forbidden for consumption. Split hooves and chewing cud for mammals, fins and scales for fish. A list of unfit birds and insects is then listed. Also in the parasha are some laws of ritual purity, including the mikvah (or ritual bath) and the wellspring. And so the people of Israel are to differentiate themselves between the pure and the impure.
The first letter of the Torah is the bet, for bereishit (in the beginning). The last word of the Torah is lamed, for yisrael (Israel). These two letters, with the vav in the middle, form the word bul, meaning postage stamp. A postage stamp is the traditional vehicle for transporting information from one place to another. A letter or package requires the right amount of postage, and its contents can transform a life. I would like to think of The Torah, with all it contains, as the postage stamp that is the vehicle for transmitting God’s word from the heavens above to the depths of our souls. Depending on the weight of the lesson, we may need extra postage, an extra dose of Torah. But as we renew our commitment to the metaphorical sacrifices, the Jewish way of life we embrace, which brings our own brand of kashrut to our table and home, may that stamp carry our Torah throughout the universe to bring light and healing to all.
Ken yehi ratzon – May it be God’s will.
