Dear TBZ Community:
This week’s Torah portion, Achrei Mot, begins with the words:
וַיְדַבֵּר יְהֹוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה אַחֲרֵי מוֹת שְׁנֵי בְּנֵי אַהֲרֹן
Adonai spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron
It continues, giving many directions to Aaron and the priests regarding the rituals of Yom Kippur. Though the the death of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, and the reactions of Aaron and Moshe were described a few weeks ago in parashat Shemini, it is interesting to note that these directions for the rituals of Yom Kippur are given just after their death– or at least they are contextualized as a response to their death. These rituals of expiation are the source of the Yom Kippur holiday, our holiest day of the year and the day that focuses most of its liturgy and practices in facing our mortality so we can live a life of meaning.
So, why are these directions given in the context of this tragedy?
Some of the traditional commentators explain this as a way to warn Aaron about not dying, perhaps not committing the same mistake as his sons. Perhaps this warning can be read as an encouragement to Aaron to live his life fully, despite his mourning.
This week, I had the opportunity to spend some time close to the ocean and be in nature. For a day, I tried to not sink into the despair and confusion of what we are witnessing around us. I tried not to only focus on how broken my heart feels. And as I watched and listened to the waves crash into the shore, I reminded myself that we keep moving, that we keep doing, that we keep breathing, that even when it feels like there is no end to suffering, to conflict, to hatred, we have no option but to breathe and show up in the world as best as we can.
Perhaps that is how we can read the context of these instructions. I imagine God saying something like (and this is definitely not a literal reading of any text):
“I know it is hard, I know you are all in pain. Let’s figure out a system for us to live a life of meaning. To face death and face challenges. Know we can change, and can forgive and be forgiven.” Perhaps we can read this as: after the tragedy of the death of the two sons, we are reminded that new beginnings are possible.
The Jewish calendar and rhythms of celebration and commemorations can also be understood in a similar context. We go from Passover to Yom Hashoah, followed by Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut, all while counting the Omer, which brings us to Lag Ba’Omer and Shavuot. Some of these commemorations are biblical, some are modern, and some in between. These seven weeks from Passover to Shavuot can feel like a roller coaster zipping us from a celebration of redemption, or of the possibility of redemption, to memorials of pain and hatred and suffering, and back to celebrations of survival and the gifts of Torah. This year especially, it’s hard to face what’s ahead in our calendar. But I find solace in the journey towards Shavuot and the words of TBZ member and CEO of Jewish Women Archive, Dr. Judith Rosenabum helped me frame that. She wrote in the last JWA newsletter:
We are in the wilderness. On the Jewish calendar, we are in the midst of the Omer, marking the seven weeks between Passover and Shavuot, between the exodus from Egypt and the revelation at Sinai. It is a time of uncertainty, of wandering, of feeling unmoored and vulnerable.
Wilderness feels to me like a fitting description for this moment. As I look around me, as I read the headlines each day, I feel a sense of disorientation and unsettledness. The landscape that was once comprehensible or at least familiar is now lonely and strange. I’m not sure where we are headed, and sometimes it feels like we’re lost.
What the wilderness invites, however, is space for questions, for crying out into the vastness, for meandering instead of purposeful striding. It even allows for the possibility of miracles.
In the wilderness, the Israelites sometimes gave way to panic and a mob mentality—think Golden Calf and crying to return to the (terrible) known in Egypt. But the wilderness also enabled reflection, experimentation, and learning—about how to lead and to delegate, how to mourn and to celebrate, and how to create portable, inventive containers for community and the sacred. Perhaps most importantly, how to be free people with agency, responsibility, and a commitment to creating the world we would like to inhabit. The emptiness of the wilderness invites us to imagine that another world is possible.
As we walk through the wilderness, as we face pain and tragedy, may we have the audacity to build, to believe, to love, to forgive, to create, and to imagine a better world for all.
May this Shabbat bring blessings and consolation to all of you and your loved ones. May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity. May all those who are ill find healing.
And may the hostages soon be returned to their families and friends; may the Israeli and Palestinian peace workers in the land continue their sacred work and not be deterred or turn away from the vision of peace and dignity for all.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia