The Jerusalem Post - The Jerusalem Post Magazine
Turning inward, turning outward
Parashat Shemini: The eagerly anticipated moment had finally arrived. An entire nation, three million strong, assembled in the courtyard of the newly constructed Sanctuary to inaugurate the house built for God.
It was a gala celebration, but also a day of stress and swirling uncertainty. Had God forgiven them for the grievous crime of worshiping a golden calf? Was the historical covenant, forged hundreds of years earlier, in a faraway land, still intact? It was a day tinged with excitement, anticipation, and jittery expectations.
As a whirling pillar of fire landed upon the altar, the entire nation erupted in song and celebration. Triumph and vindication swept over the ecstatic audience.
Suddenly, tragedy struck. Two sons of Aaron, the high priest, were found dead in the Sanctuary. Though they had committed only minor infractions, they were given a harsh and unforgiving sentence.
All the energy and excitement of the day came to a screeching halt as the bodies were removed from the Sanctuary. Though the inaugural ceremonies were not interrupted, the mood quickly turned from celebration and joy to gloominess and sorrow. Everyone in attendance was left speechless. No words could possibly explain the shocking deaths of two priests who were merely channeling the immense joy of this opening day of the Sanctuary.
Not only was the general population dumbfounded, but Aaron, the father of the two priests, was stunned into silence. He had looked forward to this day for catharsis, hoping to overcome his guilt for his complicity in the calf debacle. Instead of reaching closure, Aaron faced the crushing loss of two sons. In a heroic moment of stoic submission, Aaron kept silent.
His steely silence is one of the most thunderous moments in the entire Torah. When man faces perceived divine injustice, his only recourse is to guard his tongue and surrender to the divine mystery. This is Aaron’s Akeda – i.e., a test akin to the Binding of Isaac – and he doesn’t come up short.
In the aftermath of this tragedy, God was silent, offering no explanation for the stern verdict. Though Moses offered philosophical perspectives upon the tragedy, God Himself was quiet. No explanation or justification for the harsh and fearsome punishment was provided.
While God didn’t directly address the tragedy, He did deliver an important
set of Jewish laws. Almost immediately after the tragedy, the laws of kosher food were presented. The Torah provides a lengthy and comprehensive list of forbidden and permissible animals [to eat]. The Torah drills down to the details, describing animal hoofs and digestive tracts, to discriminate between kosher and non-kosher animals.
Evidently, the laws of kosher food present a coping mechanism for tragedy. Something about Jewish dietary laws provides a response to the dark clouds of tragedy that engulf a nation in mourning.
Turning to spirituality
Often, in the aftermath of tragedy, people turn inward, toward spirituality, and away from materialism. Spirituality provides us with hope and optimism during bleak times, reminding us of a larger narrative beyond our narrow and frustrating predicament.
In addition, tragedy exposes us to vulnerability and the fragility of the human condition. Facing our mortality, we veer away from transient experiences toward the eternal and to the infinite. Enduring values and long-term vision speak to us more powerfully in the wake of an incomprehensible calamity.
The experience of keeping kosher inspires greater balance between materialism and spirituality. In theory, kosher laws limit food choices, though in the modern era of widespread availability of kosher food, we rarely experience constraints. Beyond the particular limitations, though, kosher laws frame our general attitude toward eating. By regulating our eating, we are better able to preserve a healthy balance between physical experiences and spiritual pursuits.
Having suffered this devastating tragedy, the grieving nation was eager for a behavioral framework that de-emphasized material gratification and encouraged spirituality. At this point,
a wounded nation was amenable to a system of food restrictions.
Post-Oct. 7 spirituality
Our current national tragedy has caused us to turn inward and toward the world of spirituality. On October 6, our country was profoundly entrepreneurial. We had enjoyed startling financial success and, as the Start-Up Nation, we were the technology darlings of the world. Financial success is certainly an important strategic asset, and it enabled us to build a strong defense force, as well as to open many diplomatic doors. Our material success, however, came at the expense of our spirit and spirituality.
Perhaps the war will help us strike a healthier balance between our material success and our spirituality. We are fighting enemies who could care less about the material welfare of their citizens. They continually inflict pain and anguish on innocent citizens to win public support. However, they are deeply spiritual and deeply committed to their larger goals, as hideous as those goals may be.
It is impossible to defeat an idea without a more powerful idea. Weapons, tanks, and drones cannot defeat spirit. Only spirit defeats spirit. If we don’t tap into our own spirituality, we will not achieve the decisive victory we so desperately battle for.
A kosher ‘community’
There is a second reason that the Torah introduces the concept of kosher food in the wake of an overwhelming tragedy.
When confronting tragedy, people turn inward to spirituality, but they also turn outward to community. At a purely practical level, community provides logistical and emotional support during a crisis. Furthermore, by sharing feelings with those who share our hardships, we feel validated and less isolated in our loneliness.
In addition to the practical help that communities offer, they also provide us with an overall feeling of belonging. Belonging to a larger community comforts us during difficult moments. We take solace in being part of a larger group of people with common experiences and with shared destiny.
Kosher dietary laws create a powerful framework for Jewish communal identity. Providing kosher food often requires larger communal resources. Additionally, eating is a highly social experience, and the people we dine with become our innate social community. Kosher food is an internal mechanism to assure strong communal bonds among Jews.
By introducing the laws of kosher food in the aftermath of the horrific tragedy, the Torah encourages us to construct robust communities and to draw strength and comfort from our communal identity during a crisis. Not just from our contemporary community but also from our intergenerational community of the past. It is powerful and affirming to know that, despite our different historical eras, our different cultures, and our different cuisines, we have all prepared meats similarly, and we have all avoided mixing meat and milk. Kosher food accentuates communal belonging and provides us with a response to unexplainable tragedies.
Post-Oct. 7 communal identity
Over the past few months, we have faced death, sadness, and frustration. Many of our greatest hopes and dreams have been dashed, and it is sometimes difficult for us to see a clear path forward. As people of faith, we look darkness in the eye and envision a brighter future authored by God.
Alongside faith, in confronting this crisis we must also deepen our communal bonds. During the war, we peeled away so many layers of identity that divided Jews in Israel, and divided Israelis from Jews abroad. The war was reductive, stripping away externals of Jewish identity and exposing the common core of what unites every Jew. It endowed us with unity, but it also heightened our communal identity.
As the month of Jewish history is about to dawn, let us turn inward to the world of spirit. Let us also turn outward to our large nation, those alongside whom we battle for Jewish history, those before us who paved this road, and those after us who, one day, will tell our story.
The writer is a rabbi at Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, a hesder yeshiva. He has smicha and a BA in computer science from Yeshiva University, and a master’s degree in English literature from the City University of New York. He is the author of the forthcoming Dark Clouds Above, Faith Below (Kodesh Press, April 2024), which provides religious responses to the massacres of Oct. 7 and the ensuing war.