Preparing to post my reflection from last night on my blog, I
remembered that I’d recently cleared my browser’s history. Therefore my blog did not come up after only
three or so keystrokes as it usually does.
In fact, after I’d typed ‘rabbi’ I ended up on Rabbi Jonathan Sacks’
blog, which I had apparently visited after clearing my history. So, still not thinking quite clearly, I typed
in ‘rabbidonlevy’ and the rest of the Blogspot URL and hit enter.
The typing took me
to a blog belonging to ‘rabbidonlevy,’ and I am in fact that Rabbi Don
Levy. But the blog is an old one, the
one I used to write before I became ‘rabbidoninoz.’ It’s the blog I maintained for posting my
weekly reflections, back when my gig was at Temple Beit Torah in Colorado
Springs.
Once there, I of
course couldn’t just move to the correct blog and be done with it. Naturally, I had to spend some time
re-reading some of my weekly sermons written during my tenure on that pulpit,
ending in 2011. It reminded me of what a
privilege it is to make a living, at least in part, by writing. The result is that I was able to get a quick
snapshot into the subjects that were compelling to me then – and compare them
to what I write about nowadays. It
enabled me to compare how I was thinking then, with how I am thinking
today. It also afforded me a chance to
see that I still make the same typos that I did back then…
Five years ago, I
was as interested in Israel and her perception in the world as I am today. I was as interested in current affairs and
how they reflect the ethics of the age, as I am today. But I did not seem to be as interested in
traditional Torah law, and how it aught to affect our daily behavior, as I am
today. Back then, I wrote about that
very little. Back then, I probably would
not have written last night’s sermon about kashrut. Not that I had anything against kashrut back
then, mind you! It’s just that other
things were on my mind.
I was thinking about
that, because this is Shabbat Parah. The
parah, or cow that the name refers to, is the Red Heifer. In the ancient cultus, the priests had to
find a red heifer, burn it into ashes, and use those ashes to purify themselves
to ensure their ritual fitness to offer the Korban Pesach – the Passover
sacrifice.
This narrative is
not in this week’s cyclical Torah reading – it comes from the 19th
chapter of Numbers, way beyond where we’re reading this week. But the 22 verses that convey the procedures
of the Red Heifer, are read this morning as a special maftir, an
additional reading. This, because next
week is Shabbat Hachodesh, the Shabbat when we celebrate Rosh Chodesh
of Nissan, the month in which Pesach comes. The Red Heifer narrative is added to the today’s
reading, because this was the time of that purification rite when the Beit
Mikdash still stood.
This
reminds me that, even when our focus and thoughts might change over the years,
we are still repeating the cycles of reading, reacting, and experiencing. That’s why a Jew can’t just take a ‘year off’
from celebrating, say, Passover. Oh, an
individual Jew might find themselves unable to celebrate Passover, or some
other holiday or occasion, in its fullest in any particular year thanks to
encroaching circumstances. In the same
way, we sometimes find ourselves unable to celebrate our birthdays because of
contemporaneous events. My poor daughter’s
birthday is on September 12th.
Already before 2001, we were sometimes unable to pay much attention to
it because it tends to come right around Rosh Hashanah. And of course in that fateful first year of
the new millennium, a harrowing event occurred the day before that made us loath
to hold a birthday party.
So sometimes things
get in the way, and after all that sounds just like life. But we never entertain the notion that, because
we’ve celebrated Passover so many times, we can afford to ignore it any
particular year. Because every year, if
we allow it to, it will affect us in a slightly different way. The differences in the way the particular
Seder is conducted, or the social dynamic between those seated at the table, or
the things we’re thinking about and why, will necessarily change the experience
each time.
As we announce the
New Moon of Nissan, which will take place next Shabbat, it is a good time to
think about how we prepare ourselves for upcoming festivals. We no longer go out searching for a red
heifer to burn to ashes in order for the priests to be ritually fit to offer
the Passover sacrifice. But this Shabbat
is a wonderful time to reflect upon how we prepare ourselves for Passover, or
any important occasion. And how we
prepare ourselves, intellectually, spiritually and otherwise for the important
cyclical occasions of our lives. Shabbat
shalom.
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