S.T.A.R. News

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

“For they are My servants, whom I have taken out of the land of Egypt; they shall not be sold in the manner of a slave.” (25:42)

Dealing with the passing away of someone we love is one of life’s great challenges. Even someone of staunch faith can be challenged by the seeming finality of death. A frequently misunderstood concept in Judaism is tumah andtaharah— usually translated as “impurity” and “purity.” The word tumah – meaning impurity – is connected to the word “atum”, which means sealed. The Jewish idea of impurity is something that seals us off from holiness. The Torah tells us that the greatest source of tumah is contact with a dead human body. Now we’re not talking here about physical decay or disease. A dead human body is tameh – impure – even if moments before in life, it was physically healthy in every way. Why should it be that a cadaver is the greatest source of spiritual impurity? When life leaves the body, it seems like The End. We don’t see the continuity of the life of the soul in the World of Souls and the eventual reuniting of body and soul in the World to Come. These are at best intellectual concepts to us. But do we see it? We don’t see it. The great barrier that separates us from those who pass beyond this world, this greatest “sealing off,” this feeling that after life there is nothing — is the greatest impurity that can be. In parshat Ha’azinu, G-d says,מָחַצְתִּי וַאֲנִי אֶרְפָּא — I struck down and I will heal. The word מָחַצְתִּיcan be read as mechitzat — My barrier —I will heal. This is G-d’s promise that the doom of death is not eternal and this ultimate barrier to the life beyond will eventually fall.

The word taharah, purity,is related to the word for “shining” or “light.” The brightest part of the day, is called tzohoraim — noon. The most open part of the Altar in the Holy Temple was called the tohoro shel haMizbeach. Taharah is when the light of holiness reaches us. When Noach – Noah – built the Ark, God instructed him to put in a window — a tzohar. Tzohar comes from the same root as taharah. Just as a window lets light into a building, taharah lets holiness flood into our lives. We feel the eternity of the soul. The knowledge that death is only a temporary barrier is our greatest consolation in times of loss.

It always struck me whenever I had the privilege to meet a great Torah Sage how normal he seemed. He was not hidden in a cave at the side of a mountain, picking berries for sustenance and living a total disconnected and ascetic life. It was, in fact, as if he defined the yardstick of normalcy. After meeting this person, other people seemed somewhat less than normal.

The Alshich explains that G-d instructed Moshe to call all the people together when giving them the commandment to be holy in order that it would be clear that holiness is not something achievable by only the few. Every Jew has the potential to be holy, and thus it follows that if every Jew has the potential to be holy, holiness is not a voluntary affair but an obligation.

Holiness does not consist of the mortifying the flesh or of extreme abstinence. Holiness does not mean rolling in ice or lying on a bed of nails. Holiness means becoming more and more normal.

Holy Jews live normal married lives. They eat normally. They breathe normally. However, everything they do is with consideration and within measure.

Holiness means being normal even in the most abnormal situations. It means never compromising with our lower desires, but at the same time recognizing that we are part physical beings. Being holy means resisting that extra spoonful of cholent, even if the kashrut is top-notch. Above all, holiness means going beyond the technical fulfillment of the mitzvahs. It means “sanctifying the permitted.” When something is outright forbidden, it is much easier to steer clear of it. In such a case, there is no room for negotiation with our lower personas. However, when something is permitted, there is always the temptation to push the edge of the envelope. And although technically one could stay within the letter of the law, the commandment to be holy tells us that there is more to mitzvah observance than the letter of the law. Observing the spirit of the law is a mitzvah in itself. That is what it means to be normal.

• Source: Based on the Ramban

Windbag

“This is the law of the metzora.” (14:2)

The road to holiness does not start with lofty ideals or sublime thoughts. It does not begin with a mind-expanding revelation or a “close encounter.” It cannot be produced by psychotropic drugs, nor can it be experienced by climbing the Alps or the Andes.

True, gazing down from Mont Blanc or Everest may fill us with awe at the Creator’s handiwork. Nature can truly inspire closeness to G-d, but all this inspiration will vanish like a cloud of smoke if we lack the fundamental ingredients needed to concretize inspiration into actuality.

The road to holiness starts with a few small boring steps — such as being a decent, moral person, and controlling our emotions and appetites.

As Jews, we may not eat what we like when we like. On Pesach we may not eat bread. On Yom Tov we should eat meat. On Yom Kippur we may eat nothing. At all times, we may not eat the forbidden foods, which is the subject of this week’s Torah portion.

“Lest you become contaminated.” In Hebrew, this sentence is expressed as one word: v’nitmayhem. The spelling of this word is unusual. It lacks an aleph and thus it can also read as v’nitumtem, which means “Lest you become dulled.”

In our search for holiness and meaning in this world, our greatest assets and aids are the laws of kashrut. Kosher food is soul food. Food for the soul. Food that feeds our spirituality and sharpens our ability to receive holiness. Food that is not kosher does the reverse. It dulls our spiritual senses. It makes us less sensitive, less receptive to holiness. A Jew who tries to seek holiness sitting on top of some mountain in the Far East, living on a diet of salted pork, will find it impossible to achieve his goal. The view of the Ganges or the Himalayas (or his own navel!) may titillate his spiritual senses, but he will find no growth or nourishment reaching his core.

The spiritual masters teach that if a person contaminates himself a little, he becomes contaminated a great deal. Spirituality is a delicate thing. It does not take much to jam the broadcast from Upstairs. On the other hand, a little bit of holiness goes a long way. As the Torah teaches, “You shall sanctify yourselves, and you shall become holy.” (Lev. 11:44) A little bit of sanctity generates a lot of holiness. If we sanctify ourselves down here in this lowly world, with all its barriers to holiness, if we guard our mouths, our eyes and our ears, then the Torah promises us that we will be given Divine help to lift us to lofty peaks of holiness.

It all starts with one small step.

The New Israel

“And he made the breast-plate as a craftsman, like he made the ephod, from gold, turquoise, purple and crimson wool…” (39:8)

Let me give you, in my opinion, an essential “life-hack” — something that is going to save you a lot of time. It goes like this:

There are two kinds of lost objects: the kind that will eventually turn up, and the kind that is irretrievably lost. Whenever you lose something, don’t try to find it. That’s just a waste of time. Do the following. Think to yourself, “Do I absolutely need this thing right now? Is there a work-around? Do I absolutely need to wear my pink tie with the little green elephants on it? I know I was really looking forward to wearing it today, but maybe I could just get by, if I really need to, with the yellow one with pink poodles.”

Much, if not most, of the time we can substitute what we want with what we need. Looking for non-essentials is a complete waste of life. Because they will either turn up, one-way-or-another, or they are gone forever.

Life is about distinguishing the essence from the nonsense.

When Moshe failed to appear from Mount Sinai, the Children of Israel made a fatal mistake. They thought they could find a work-around. They thought they could replace their “lost object” — Moshe — with a golden calf.

Nothing could replace Moshe. “There never has risen again in Israel a prophet like Moshe…” (Devarim 24:10)

When it came to Moshe Rabbeinu —– there was no “spare tie.”

A Drop in the Ocean?

“…to kindle the lamp continually” (27:20)