Seventh Day of Pesach; Exodus 13: 17 –15:26, Numbers 28:19-15 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

On the Seventh Day of Pesach we read a special torah reading from the book of Exodus. Interrupting our regular weekly cycle of Levitical readings, we go back to the story of the Exodus and in these final hours of the holiday read aloud the story of the parting of the Red Sea from Parshat Beshallach.

At the beginning of the holiday around our Seder tables we reenacted the events that finally changed the mind of the Pharaoh. We poured out the ten drops of wine reminding us of the Plagues that God sent each time Pharaoh refused permission for the Hebrew slaves to leave. We recalled the backbreaking work of our ancestors and the sun-dried bricks and mortar they utilized in their building projects by eating charoset. We recalled their sweat and tears by dipping the greens of spring into salt water and we tasted the bitterness of their situation through eating the maror—the bitter herbs, most commonly horseradish.

But the story doesn’t end with the slaying of the first –born of Egypt. In many ways the story and the journey to freedom only begins. And this Shabbat, which coincides with the seventh day of Pesach, is dedicated to the miracle of the parting of the waters, the rescue of the Israelites and the final blow to the Egyptians.

God picks the route of the Exodus telling Moses exactly the direction and the places they should encamp. And then, Pharaoh again as been his habit, changes his mind, and decides that he should not have released the Israelites from his service. Thus he gathers his army to pursue them and give chase.

Israel has the sea in front of it and now the Egyptian army with its mighty chariots closing in from behind. The Children of Israel were frightened. Where were they to turn? What were they to do? They question Moses and their fears rise to the surface.

This is a moment that the magic of miracles will bring the Children of Israel to their moment of deliverance.

And so Moses lifts his staff out over the waters and the Sea splits into two halves and the Children of Israel walk safely to the other side before the walls of water come crashing down upon the Egyptian army.

This miracle, recorded in not only in the narrative but also then in the poem of Exodus 15 glorifies the power of God to confound the enemies of Israel. The celebration of dancing and rejoicing of the Israelites at their deliverance is what we celebrate on the seventh day of Pesach. Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron leads the dancing and jubilation of the Israelites.

There are some who wonder if these events actually happened. They go to great lengths to try and find scientific explanations for the plagues, and for the parting of the waters. They search for clues from other ancient documents for any mention of the Hebrew slaves that escaped from Egypt. They diligently try to make rational sense out of the miracles of the Torah.
For me however, I am less concerned with whether or not this story actually happened—but with the power of the message of Pesach and particularly the power of the message on this seventh day.

The message is that God does deliver us from our enemies and that God does provide safe passage for us from slavery to freedom to a life of service that we committed to at Sinai. For me the power of this teaching is “True” enough. When we place our faith in God, while living a life filled with mitzvot—we build a great expanse of personal freedom and healing that extend to us, to our families and to our world.

Happy Passover.

Parshat Achrei Mot; Leviticus 16: 1-18:30 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

Can someone be too close to God? The current emphasis on all things spiritual would have us all be close to God. Religion in general sees this as a good thing and our morals and values help elevate us in seeking this union and communion with the Divine. But can one be too close?

According to this week’s parasha that is true. It describes again the sin of Nadav and Abihu, sons of Aaron, priests themselves, who died “when they drew too close to the presence of God.” (16:1). Nadav and Abihu also offered was was called a strange or alien fire –or sacrifice to God. One that perhaps in their own zealousness was not required nor requested. And so they offered a sacrifice in the sacred Tent of meeting, violating the holy precincts and the rules of sacrifice. When we refer to the actual passages earlier in Leviticus—it notes that Moses shares God’s words with Aaron—“Through those close to me I will make Myself holy, through the people I will glorify Myself.”

God’s holiness by God’s admission seems to come from those who draw near to God. And yet, if you draw too close to God—there is a clear warning that one will be consumed just as Nadav and Abihu were and just as Aaron is warned about in this week’s portion. It is interesting to note that holiness—in parshat Kedoshim—is a state of being to be emulated by humanity—You be holy because I Adonai your God am holy.

Thus the state of holiness—we learn is not just a one-way street. Rather, we become holy through our worship, association, and following the ways of God and God becomes holy through our worship, association and following the ways of God. It is as if we empower one another! God and humanity are in sacred dialogue and holy relationship.

But clearly, the Torah warns us as well. If we get too close, too consumed by our zealousness, we can lose ourselves. Even the masters of the Kabbalah who longed for d’vekut—clinging to God warned that without the proper preparation and study and faith one could entirely lose oneself and yes, even die. The Kabbalists recognized that it took proper instruction and a proper context to elevate the soul to such a high plane.

In an age when religious zealots and fanatics claim exclusive truth and knowledge of God, it is good to remind ourselves that even as we long to be close to God and seek out the holy, our Jewish tradition, wants us to approach that closeness with caution, Torah study and proper teachers. Pirke Avot teaches us “Asei l’cha rav” Get yourself a teacher.

For the study of Torah and our tradition is indeed the pathway—but we never study alone!

Parshat Metzora; Leviticus 14:1-15:33 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

This parsha is tied to last week’s portion Tazria. In non-leap years, these two portions are read together. But in this leap year we read them separately. Nevertheless the subject of these two portions is greatly intertwined. While last week we read of the plague of tzaarat, its diagnosis and the spiritual impurity it brings to both people and garments, this week we read of the ceremony of cleansing of the one who is now healed of the affliction.

The metzorah, the one afflicted with tzaarat, once healed can only be readmitted to the congregation of Israel through a detailed ceremony that includes sacrifices as well as purification of the body and shaving of body hair. The metzorah was quarantined outside of the camp, lest he infects and contaminates the spiritual cleanliness of fellow Israelites. The metzorah even was required to warn others of the impure state that he/she found him/herself in by calling out the words, “Impure, Impure”.

The priest not only determined the disease at the outset but now the priest still holds the key to readmission to the community through the ceremonies of sacrifice, the anointing with oil and the special ritual of two birds, one whose blood is utilized and the second who is allowed to fly away. Magically transferring the impurity to the second bird –not unlike the scapegoat that carries our sins away on Yom Kippur.

The metzorah not only had this special ritual of the birds but also had to bring to the priest quite an expensive array of offerings. These included two male lambs, choice flour, and oil. The price for re-admission was very high indeed and this took place over the course of a week. So in addition to the time spent in quarantine healing from the disease the readmission procedure took an additional week. Imagine the burden this affliction caused for the average Israelite and his or her family—out of work for at least two weeks and maybe longer. Isolated from community and family and friends as well. The emotional toll as well as the shame associated with this plague must have felt like a tremendous burden upon the individual and his or her family. While we might recoil and the kind of ceremony described in this week’s portion with its bloody sacrifices and rituals—it is important to have a way to address the many layers of complex emotions that go along with disease and illness. And especially to have the individual re-enter society with a complete sense of recovery and integration back into the life of the community.

This is no different today for those who face serious illnesses or chronic disease. The burden upon a family structure can be enormous. When one partner faces a debilitating diagnosis such as cancer or MS there are many layers of complex emotions to deal with in addition to the disease. Some family and friends shun the ill person often causing tremendous isolation. “I don’t know what to say to him.” “I can’t possibly visit her in the hospital—they are just too scary a place.” Unfortunately, these are not uncommon responses.

There is shame and guilt of the ill individual as if somehow they are to blame for their disease when often it is simply a break down of the body and cells. And certainly, the yoke of financial pressures weigh down the family and the sick person as sick leave and vacation days are quickly used and health insurance may not cover the necessary treatments.

All of our Jewish communities could do a better job of helping those individuals and families re-enter the communal setting and help them get back to feeling aligned with God, family and friends.

That certainly was the focus of the ceremony as described in Leviticus this week—perhaps the ancients understood the necessity of helping weave that person back into the daily life of the Jewish people and their families. Perhaps we ought to think about how we might do this in our time.

Parshat Tazria; Leviticus 12:1-13:59 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

This week’s portion begins with the miracle of childbirth. In any family the arrival of child is a momentous occasion. In most religious traditions a new child is welcomed with fanfare and special rituals. In Jewish tradition today, we mark the arrival of a child with great ceremony including a berit milah, circumcision and naming ceremony for a boy or a brit bat, a covenant and naming ceremony for a girl. Sometimes these ceremonies take place in the home and sometimes in the synagogue. But in either case, there are prayers of thanksgiving and gratitude for both parents and grandparents as well as prayers of healing for the mother from the strains of childbirth.

If you have ever been present at the birth of a child, whether it is a vaginal birth or Caesarian section—the moment the child emerges from the mother is magical and it can be scary as well. The child emerges covered in blood and fluids. It is a messy but marvelous moment. Doctors are concerned with the new child but also must keep their attention to the birth mother. For the child birthing moments can be fraught with peril. Our ancient Israelite ancestors did their best to understand a mysterious process.

Our portion opens with their ancient response to the effect of childbirth upon the mother. They recognized that the birth of children was no easy task. They recognized that the mother was put at risk as well as the child. And so the Torah portion opens with rituals of response to the messiness of the birth process. While we understand more about the process of reproduction today and have documented everything from the moment of conception to birth, it was different for our Israelite ancestors. And while we understand the role of blood and semen and eggs in the reproductive process, for the Israelites and even the rabbis of not too long ago, their knowledge was less detailed.

One Midrash teaches that the semen of a man is responsible for all the white in a child—the skin, bones, teeth, nails and whites of the eyes. The blood of the woman is responsible for the blood, muscles, hair and dark of the eyes. This is hardly accurate science.

Yet our Torah portion recognizes that giving birth to a child can be a moment that even as life is at its richest and even as it is a life giving moment—death hovers there at any moment. For the Israelites any contact with death and blood brought about a spiritual impurity and that is reflected in this week’s portion, Tazria by the rituals a woman must undergo following the birth of her children. She is spiritually impure for seven days for the birth of a male child and double for the birth of a female child. Most scholars account for the doubling of the time of spiritual impurity because of the potential of the female child to her own life-giving potential.

The impurity continues for a bit longer than a month for a male child and 66 days –double for a female child. The mother’s brush with the very edges of life and death keep her from partaking in the holiest places and items of the tabernacle and Temple.
Finally at the conclusion of these dates she must bring an offering to God. These sacrificial offerings not only restore her spiritual cleanliness but also puts her in balance again with God and community following her experience at the very edges of life and death.

While today we might cringe at this notion of spiritual impurity, every new parent knows that the first months of a new baby’s life within a family is a time that is hardly a time of balance. Especially first babies bring with them a wonderful kind of chaos that extends to the new parents. Looking for balance, with the excitement, joy, sleeplessness, worries is no easy task. Whether it is the first baby or the second or third, each baby brings a disruption to life, although welcome, it is a disruption of the status quo. The ancient recognized this and created in part a ceremony to help rebalance the spiritual life of the mother.