Dear Readers,
Today’s drash feels a little more scattered than usual. Forgive me. Lots on my mind and many themes buzzing through the air. Take what you can, leave the rest, and share with a friend if you’re willing. As always, thank you for reading.
Love, Meg.
This week is a lot in the Torah – we are in the book of Leviticus, reading Parashat Shemini. The Israelites finally set up the sacrificial system to communicate with and praise God. Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu are smote after offering “alien fire.” Aaron is silent. We learn about what we are allowed to eat – turns out, a lot of animals are off limits to us for food. And we get these verses:
Leviticus 10:8-11
“And God spoke to Aaron, saying: ‘Drink no wine or other intoxicant, you or your sons with you, when you enter the Tent of Meeting, that you may not die – it is a law for all time throughout the ages. For you must distinguish between the holy and the profane, and between the unclean and the clean; and you must teach the Israelites all the laws which God has imparted to them through Moses.’”
וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר יְהֹוָ֔ה אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֖ן לֵאמֹֽר׃ טיַ֣יִן וְשֵׁכָ֞ר אַל־תֵּ֣שְׁתְּ ׀ אַתָּ֣ה ׀ וּבָנֶ֣יךָ אִתָּ֗ךְ בְּבֹאֲכֶ֛ם אֶל־אֹ֥הֶל מוֹעֵ֖ד וְלֹ֣א תָמֻ֑תוּ חֻקַּ֥ת עוֹלָ֖ם לְדֹרֹתֵיכֶֽם׃
יוּֽלְהַבְדִּ֔יל בֵּ֥ין הַקֹּ֖דֶשׁ וּבֵ֣ין הַחֹ֑ל וּבֵ֥ין הַטָּמֵ֖א וּבֵ֥ין הַטָּהֽוֹר׃ יאוּלְהוֹרֹ֖ת אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל אֵ֚ת כׇּל־הַ֣חֻקִּ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֨ר דִּבֶּ֧ר יְהֹוָ֛ה אֲלֵיהֶ֖ם בְּיַד־מֹשֶֽׁה׃
Now, the Torah is very concerned with what is clean and unclean, holy and profane. In fact, the word for holy in Hebrew, kodesh, means something like, “dedicated or apartness.” If something is holy, it is distinct – it is made special. And the Israelites are taught to be holy because God is holy.
In this case, we can assume God is saying, “Hey, listen guys, you can drink wine or whatever, just not here, in the tabernacle. Here is a sacred place – rise to the occasion.” Perhaps God is commanding them to be sober so they can be more present and focused with their work. So their spirits are not buffered by any intoxicant from connecting to the divine. Or simply, so they can effectively do their work.
It seems we are not only made in the image of God, but we must also act according to this truth. It is as if we are challenged to create a life worthy of our intrinsic holiness. And how do we “build a life?” Why, by making every day decisions, of course.
I recently saw this image posted by Adam Grant, an Organizational psychologist at Wharton and I paused.
There are so many things we don’t get to choose in our lifetime. Where we are born, when, to whom and with what DNA. We don’t get to choose the parenting style of our caregivers and if the playground had tan bark underneath it or sand (and how that affected if we broke our arm or not, and then if we were able to pitch that year in baseball or couldn’t, then if we became professional baseball players. Just saying.) The effects of the things we can’t control ripple throughout our lives in ways we will never fully understand.
But on the other hand, we choose so much. We choose how we react to failure or the neighborhood bully. We choose to forgive or hold grudges. We choose how we tell the story of our past. We choose if we are going to speak up when something is wrong, or remain silent. If we live in a place where all adults have equal rights as citizens, we get to decide how we spend our money. We get to decide if we are going to stay in and study or go out and party. Change careers or keep the job. Sometimes we don’t even know we are deciding something. Everyday, when we don’t spontaneously leave our lovers, we are choosing to stay. When our daily life feels so wrapped up in uncontrollable momentum, we can forget we are in charge of our lives at all.
And here we are, at the beginning of spring. Leaves are returning to the magnolia outside my window and some little purple buds are popping up in our garden. And we, again, are faced with the reality that possibilities are always sprouting if we are willing to see them. We awake from winter to our lives again. Soon, Passover will be upon us – a time when we clean out the chametz from our homes – all traces of leaven. We humble ourselves by sweeping the flour off the floor to remember to deflate our egos and stand in awe of the miracle of the exodus. There is something about this time of year that begs us to take stock.
This year, take stock of your decisions. Not just your clothes, physical items, or the contents of the refrigerator. Take stock of all the choices you make, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. Notice if you are choosing peace or struggle. Courage or fear. And consider what it would feel like to steer your life while always remembering that you are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of the creator. By being alive, we are already of infinite value. But may we choose to live a life that honors and reflects the truth of our nature.
I’ll end with a story.
The Starfish Story adapted from "The Star Thrower" by Loren C. Eiseley.
A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean.
Soon, a man approached her and asked, “Why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!”
The girl simply bent down, picked up a starfish, and tossed it back into the sea before saying, “I made a difference for that one!”
Our tradition teaches us that “Whoever saves a single life is considered by scripture to have saved the whole world.’ Because we are created in God’s image” (Sanhedrin 37a).
In other words, this spring, you are the starfish and the little girl. Choose to walk over to yourself, sitting on the beach of winter, and lovingly toss yourself back into the sea.