Parshat Tazria-Mezorah; Leviticus 13:1-15:33 By Rabbi Denise L. Eger

Often this week’s portion is described as the “ickiest” portion in the Torah. When we read the double portion Tazria-Mezorah we are presented with a series of situations that play havoc with our spiritual status. Many of the situations are as natural as can be: Childbirth, menstruation, and emissions of semen. Some have to do with skin rashes and inflammations often so often poorly translated as leprosy. But tzarat doesn’t just happen to people. This double portion also describes the tzarat of both fabric and clothing and houses, leading us to imagine that it is in this case some kind of fungus or mold or mildew.

All of these situations demand purification. Indeed there is a physical dimension to this purification. A healing for the body and of course a cleansing of the fungus in a home or cloth. There is washing and even isolation of the individual. This isolation is appropriate if it is indeed contagious. These are all good common practices in health care. So in some way the Torah is way ahead of the science/medical arts of its time!

But there is also something deeper at work here. There is a spiritual cleansing/healing that is a large part of that which is at work. The priests make the determination of cleanliness or uncleanness and there are prescribed steps that the priest must follow. The priest must examine the individual and it is only the priest who can make the declaration of clean or unclean based upon the parameters described in these two portions.
Tazria describes the various kinds of Tzarat. But Mezorah describes the way back to inclusion, cleanliness and healing.

Once an individual has recovered, the first steps are an offering outside the camp—still in isolation. Sprinkled with blood of the bird offering, the now recovered individual must bathe, wash clothes and shave of all hair. Again, this part is the physical cleansing. But then a week later the individual can now enter into the community, specifically the sacred sanctuary and bring specific types of offerings there. Presumably this offering addresses the spiritual part of the tzarat as well as allows the individual to return to the community in full—purified and renewed and recovered.

Indeed there is stigma in any illness. A diagnosis whether mildly of the flu or of a more serious nature such as HIV/AIDS or Cancer, changes our world view. It changes how we look at ourselves and how others perceive us. Any disease or illness especially, life threatening ones give us pause for thought. They cause us to confront how we live our daily life, sometimes our habits good and bad, the way we eat and sleep, and who we can count on in a pinch.

This section of Torah acknowledges that changed worldview and the rituals described while we no longer practice them, do explain a basic human need to be seen as whole and healed again and to be readmitted to the community. These ceremonies helped erase the stigma of the tzarat. Today when someone recovers or goes into remission from a serious illness, the stigma still seems to follow. Perhaps we would do well to create modern welcome home ceremonies to erase that difficult time of transition! But certainly we all can be more aware of those who in our circle of concern need our attention and care and kindness as they do recover.

Parshat Shemini; Leviticus 9:1-11:47 by Denise L. Eger

In this week’s portion we find the Torah laws of Kashrut, or keeping Kosher. I say Torah laws because while one gets the basic idea of the laws of keeping kosher by reading the torah, they are developed more deeply in the rabbinic literature and have evolved over time. But in Parshat Shemini we do get the basic rules of permitted and not permitted animals.

For many years the laws of kashrut were explained away as health rules. Jews didn’t eat pork because of course because “pigs are dirty animals” “If not cooked properly one could get trichinosis”. It is true that all meat needs to be cooked properly. Undercooked chicken or beef has as many problems as undercooked pork! Look at the recent E coli outbreaks in hamburger chains throughout the U.S.

The laws of Kashrut are observances designed by God to keep the Jewish people together. The dietary disciplines mark our tribal uniqueness. The rules of kashrut and the observance of kashrut builds our Jewish identity. Especially in these days and times when it is so easy to blend in and distance ourselves from our covenant with God and our community, keeping kosher opens a possibility for deepening our ties to our people and to God.

Ironically, we have just celebrated and observed Passover week. There are additional rules and restrictions placed upon our diets during this sacred season. We eat no Chametz, or leavening. For an entire week we refrain from pasta, and bread, legumes of all sorts. If you are Ashkenazic in background—meaning your family came from Central or Eastern Europe you have additional restrictions of not eating –kitniyot, or products with rice, corn or soy!

It is indeed interesting to note –that many Jews who all year long do not observe the laws of kashrut, do so during Pesach. They make the slight adjustments in their diet so as to ritually enhance the spirituality of the season. By eating matzah, we remember the exodus from Egypt and we willingly offer thanks to God as we sing Dayeinu- it would have been enough for us.

Why not extends this same feeling of connectedness to the rest of the year. Refrain from Bacon. Stop eating lasagna with meat and Parmesan cheese. No matter where you go—your Jewishness will be present—and your connectedness to God apparent to you. If put in the right frame work—rather than a burden, kashrut can be seen as an ultimate joy—a willing sacrifice to draw you closer to the Divine Energy.

We no longer bring sacrifices to a temple in Jerusalem. The Romans in the year 70 cruelly, demolished forever the Beit Mikdash. But there are still offerings of our heart and spirit that we can make to God. And the point is no different than 2000 years ago. In those days our sacrifices were to cleanse our souls and draw us close to God. So to giving up bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich seems a small price to pay to be closer to the Holy One of Blessing.

Bon Appetit!

Pesach; Exodus 12:21-51; Numbers 28:16-25 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

The reading for both the first day and Shabbat during Pesach comes both from Exodus and Numbers. In Exodus we read of the preparation required of those in Egypt for the first Passover. They had to slaughter a lamb and then take the blood of that lamb and paint it upon the doorjambs and lintel. This blood offering becomes a sign for God to literally, pass over the houses of the Israelites during the last plague, the death of the first-born. It is a play on words, with the name of the holiday –Pesach—Passover. Any home that does not have the blood painted on the entryway will be struck with that plague. Any home that does have the blood offering on the doorway will be protected.

This tenth plague is most difficult and painful to imagine. The screaming that filled the night air as the Egyptian families discovered their first-born child dead must have rung out, filling the towns. That sound can only have haunted the Israelites and frightened all who listened.

Yet, that physical symbol on the doorposts offered the Israelites and their families protection from that horror. The blood on the doorposts was an outward symbol required by God. Tradition teaches that the mezuzah on our doorposts today harkens back to that outward symbol of protection. The Israelites had to claim their identity in order to be freed from slavery. They had to actively mark themselves apart from the Egyptians and perhaps from other slave groups. They had to cast their lot with those that would follow Moses. This is why Moses calls the elders together, to tell them what God wants of them.

With the arrival of the tenth plague, the Israelites awaken to a new reality the next morning—freedom is at hand. It is that awakening and that freedom that our Seder meal celebrates. Through the symbols of our Seder meal we reenact those moments of the plagues and pouring out ten drops of wine for each. But most importantly, like the Israelite families who gathered in their homes during the night of the tenth plague, huddling together, eating their Passover lamb offering –we too gather our families together, to eat our Passover Seder meal, huddled around our Haggadot, retelling the tale.

May the story of Passover’s freedom touch you deeply so that you can say with confidence, “ In every generation, one on is to imagine that I am the one who left Egypt.”

Happy Passover.

Parshat Tzav; Leviticus 6:1 –8:36 by Rabbi Denise L. Eger

Tzav opens with a command to Moses to explain to Aaron and the priesthood their duties in regard to the Altar and the sacrifices. Last week’s parasha highlighted the various offerings: sin, guilt, meal, and peace offering. This week’s portion continues discussing them but this time from the point of view of the priests. Tzav outlines how the priests shall receive it and how they shall actually make the offering on the altar.

The portion contains however some important information about the altar itself. Or more aptly, the flame on the altar. Aaron and his sons, the priests must keep the flame burning on the altar continuously. It is not to go out. Three times in the opening lines of the portion this is stressed. The torah says, “…the fire of the Altar should be kept alflame on it,” (Lev. 6:2) and again in verse 5, “ The fire on the Altar shall be kept burning on it, it shall not be extinguished;” (Lev. 6:5). Then again in verse six it states, “ A permanent fire shall remain a flame on the altar; it shall not be extinguished,” (Lev. 6:6).

This fire consumes the offerings placed upon it. But this fire symbolizes much more. According to the tradition, the flame crouched on the altar like a lion but blazed like the sun. (Yoma 21 b). The fire of the altar was different –a holy fire—and this is why the priests had to attend to it and keep it burning…. It had unique properties—perhaps not unlike the finger of God that burned and etched the Ten Commandments in stone for Moses.

In the Talmud passage in Yoma the rabbis write: “Has it not been taught: Five things were reported about the fire of the pile of wood: It was laying like a lion, it was as clear as sunlight, its flame was of solid substance, it devoured wet wood like dry wood, and it caused no smoke to arise from it? …For it has been taught: And the sons of Aaron the priest shall put fire upon the altar — although the fire comes down from heaven, it is a proper thing to bring fire from outside too.”

The Rabbinic reading understood that the fire on the altar was unique. Its properties were properly Divine hence it was low and strong, solid but clear. But by bringing in and mixing earthly fire with that sacred fire then and only then was the olah offering consumed.

It takes both the divine fire and the earthly fire combined to properly bring about a sacrificial offering!

Today we have no Temple. We make no sacrificial offering upon an altar. The flame we must tend to is the flame of our spirituality, the flame of our faith. It too is a combination from the heavens above and the human realm. When the heavenly realm and earthly realm meet inside of each of us we can bring about a sense of kedusha, a sense of holiness that fills our lives and fills up the emptiness that so pervades our age.
If we can tend to our own flame, and continue to stoke the flame of our faith and hope in a world redeemed, we can like the priest of old keep the Divine presence in our midst.

The altar today is the altar inside each of us. We can offer sacrifices of our time, energy, tzedakah. We can offer a commitment to living our lives with a pervasive sense of the sacred. That is the flame that should burn continually and we pray, will never be extinguished.