Shemini
Leviticus 9:1-11:47
Ezekiel 45:16-46:18
Who wants to hear another drash about strange fire?
I sure don’t feel like giving one. So let’s talk about something else instead.
Being raised by a parrothead, I often look at life through the late Jimmy Buffett’s lyrics. He had a witticism that was both honest and profound, and something I continue to enjoy to this day. It might be a song lamenting being away from home and missing it while engulfed in the hubbub of a big city, which I might recycle this reference for the next time I speak about Jonah. It could be a song about desiring what you’re denying yourself for your own good, which I could tie to some Pirkei Avot. Today it’s a small line: “The right word at the right time… that’s the difference between lightning and a harmless lightning bug.”
A description starts off as one thing, and then turns away to become something else.
In chapter 11, we learn which mammals are kosher and which aren’t. And each description of the mammals starts off with the positive sign that it would be kosher. The camel, hyrax, and rabbit all bring up their cud. The pig has a cloven hoof. But after each of them is introduced, the disqualifying attribute is listed.
There is a thought in the Midrash which I like. If you’re looking at this, you might think the kosher qualifier for these animals is not important, because it’s immediately negated by the disqualifier. And, of course, Torah is concise, except when it has a point to make. So there’s a point to be made here.
The Midrash points out that even when G-d is telling us how something is not fit for consumption, it still has positive attributes. These attributes are not something we necessarily care about in our day to day life, but it’s something G-d cares about, and if they say we should care about it, we should take note. A pig has a cloven hoof, good, but it doesn’t take up its cud, so it’s unclean for eating.
This parashah also talks about other forms of purity. Purity of action, and purity of body.
Again let’s look at Midrash. Aaron’s sons “each took”, which indicates joy, “their own fire pans” which tells they did not consult each other. They also didn’t talk to Moshe nor did they honor Aaron. This was of their own volition because they were so excited. But their excitement was outside the bounds of the commandments, and G-d killed them for violating it.
Their intentions were right but their execution was wrong. Just as cooking a meal for a loved one is a good intention, cooking it wrong can be disastrous. And of course we are a religion and people of action, not of intention.
Wait, am I giving a drash on strange fire now? Oops.
Nadav and Avihu could have easily avoided death if they had just talked with Moshe or Aaron before, to try and get permission. Instead they were swept up in excitement and it permanently changed their families.
Finally we talk about purity of contact. Of a carcass touching a water vessel, touching seeds and grains, touching water, and touching bodies. Water has a special place in Judaism. Moshe was discovered in a river and he did not enter Israel because of an outburst brought about by water. Soon we’ll have a seder which recounts how the Nile turned to blood.
Water is important. And I feel like I got a special insight as to how important it is last year. Finding stretches of 30+ miles without water in 90 degree heat. Not knowing for certain if a water cache would be open. Scooping snowmelt out of a shallow puddle with a swollen Jerusalem cricket in it just so you can filter it and have a drink for the first time in 10 miles. This story is for a different time, though.
Water is important. And Torah obviously emphasizes the importance of flowing water instead of still water. Of course we aren’t supposed to speculate on the reasoning behind what Torah says, but I’d be remiss to ignore how flowing water is less likely to harbor bacteria and other disease vectors than standing.
Water is so important that we are able to extrapolate the mikveh from this parashah. This is our final purity, the one of body, of touch. Washing is important to us and, indeed, it has saved us through history.
Our laws on how to handle trash saved our shtetls during the Plague. Laws of bathing put our hygiene centuries ahead of society, even before soap and germ theory. And laws on what is clean and unclean after touching things have helped protect us since before cross contamination was a phrase.
Our existence has always been labored. We have had to fight for every scrap of progress, of safety, and of autonomy. In the lands and societies we’ve gone into, some of us have assimilated, some have integrated, and some have refused to do either. Regardless, I would argue that any one of us who made these decisions did so with a pure heart, with pure intention, and with the desire to live our best Jewish lives as best as we can. And we continue to do so today, with alarmingly few people willing to raise their voices with us and willing to march with us.
This seems an appropriate parashah, to be speaking of cleanliness two weeks and change before Pesach, when we cleanse our houses of chametz. When we recount how we left Egypt to serve G-d with a clean slate, with pure intentions. When we dip herbs in salt water. When water cleansed Pharaoh’s army from the land.
May we find the good, notable things in what is ultimately unsuitable for us. May we find these with passion, with clarity, and with fervor. And may we always find our way back to cleanliness, to integrity, and to righteousness. Shabbat shalom.
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