Dear TBZ Community,
I have shared this story before: My Baba and Zeide (as we called them) were high school classmates in the village of Sapotskin / סאַפּעטקין in the Grodno region of Belarus. Separately, and alone, and as teenagers, they left their homes and families to escape WWII and death. Each traveled to South America: my Baba to Montevideo, Uruguay, and my Zeide to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Both of their families stayed in Europe and perished in the Holocaust.
Together, my Baba and Zeide – Sofia and Juan – would lovingly share the story of how they found each other through a South American Yiddish newspaper that printed ads of people who were trying to find relatives or friends. So Juan crossed the La Plata river to Uruguay and found Sofia. They married, lived in Buenos Aires, and had four children. My mother z”l was the eldest. Ultimately they made aliyah and lived in Israel.
This week is the yahrtzeit (anniversary of the death) of both of my grandparents, Juan and Sofia Wolynsky. They died just six days apart from each other, 11 years ago (3rd and 8th of Iyyar).
Baba had passed away. I flew to Israel, where my uncles and aunt were sitting shiva for her. My sisters, father z”l, and cousins were there; the whole family was together, celebrating the life of our dear Baba. The morning I arrived, I visited my Zeide, who had been ill for a long time, but who had some understanding of what was happening. I kissed him and sat with him.
Later that afternoon, on the 6th day of shiva for my Baba, Zeide died.
We buried my Zeide next to my Baba and as painful as that moment was, it was perhaps one of the most sweet and romantic moments too. Juan had waited for Sofia to die and for the whole family to be together, so he could die with her.
This week’s Torah portions are Acharei-Mot and Kedoshim. Acharei Mot means “After the Death” and Kedoshim means “Holy.” It is interesting to read the first two verses of these two parshiot and connect them.
Parshat Acharei Mot begins with Leviticus 16:1-2:
וַיְדַבֵּר יְהֹוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה אַחֲרֵי מוֹת שְׁנֵי בְּנֵי אַהֲרֹן בְּקרְבָתָם לִפְנֵי־יְהֹוָה וַיָּמֻתוּ
Adonai spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron who died when they drew too close to the presence of Adonai.
וַיֹּאמֶר יְהֹוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה דַּבֵּר אֶל־אַהֲרֹן אָחִיךָ וְאַל־יָבֹא בְכל־עֵת אֶל־הַקֹּדֶשׁ מִבֵּית לַפָּרֹכֶת אֶל־פְּנֵי הַכַּפֹּרֶת אֲשֶׁר עַל־הָאָרֹן וְלֹא יָמוּת כִּי בֶּעָנָן אֵרָאֶה עַל־הַכַּפֹּרֶת
Adonai said to Moses: Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come at will into the Shrine behind the curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, lest he die; for I appear in the cloud over the cover.
In Acharei Mot twice it says, “God spoke to Moses.” The first verse feels unnecessary; many commentaries ask what the first verse is doing there! One of the explanations is that the first verse comes as a warning to Aaron, reminding him of the death of his children as he hears about the prohibition of not entering the kodesh-kodashim (holy of holies) at will.
Parshat Kedoshim’s first two verses (Leviticus 18:1-2) read:
וַיְדַבֵּר יְהֹוָה אֶל־מֹשֶׁה לֵּאמֹר
Adonai spoke to Moses, saying
דַּבֵּר אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם אֲנִי יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵיכֶם
Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: I Adonai am your God.
Parshat Kedoshim’s first two verses also begin with the sentence that God spoke to Moses, this time saying you should be Holy, you should live a life of Holiness. And the parasha follows with an array of mitzvot (commandments) and teachings about what it means to live a life of holiness, including the mitzvah (commandment) of loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Death and life come together in these two parshiot. Aaron is reminded of the tragic death of his children and the pain of death, as he is commanded to continue his life of service as a priest. And we, the community, are commanded to live a life of Holiness.
Life and death are not separated, they are intrinsically connected. As a rabbi, that awareness is always with me. I go from celebrating the birth of a new child to consoling someone on the death of a parent. In one week, and sometimes on the same day, I touch into the lifecycle of life (and death) with joy and sorrow. It is an honor and incredibly humbling to be able to do this; it is a reminder for me, and for each of us, as part of our community, that this is life. All of it.
Yesterday, at our learning session with Beit Rabban parents (we meet roughly twice a month to read and discuss Dasee Berkowitz’s book, Becoming a Soulful Parent: A Path to the Wisdom Within), we discussed a chapter called “Chaos.” As you can imagine, as a group of parents, that chapter had so many relevant teachings for us. What I was reminded of in our conversation was that, as hard as it is for most of us, we are not in control, we can do everything “right,” we can do everything in the way “we are supposed to,” and things won’t go our way or the way we imagined. Dasee Berkowitz invites us to embrace chaos (which I understand as that capacity to embrace that we cannot control everything or anything) as part of a process of growth and of living generously.
This is an awareness I try to hold. One that reminds me that I am here in this world, for… I don’t know for how long. But I am here to live generously, purposely. Living a life of holiness, as the verses of Kedoshim teach us to.
My grandparents taught me so much about life, love, and joy in the midst of pain, death, and loss. They had so much loss in their lives, but I can still hear their voices at the Shabbat table in Tel-Aviv and see and feel their joy. So I honor their memory continuing their legacy of honoring life, of acknowledging that death is part of life. But we are here to live, meaningfully, intentionally, purposely, and hopefully, as much as possible, a life of holiness.
May this Shabbat bring renewal and blessings 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 we have a joyful, sweet, and peaceful Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia