Parashat Acharei Mot/Kedoshim - Stepping out!

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Acharei Mot - Kedoshim 

Leviticus 16:1-18:30

By Adam Ruditsky

Stepping out!

     After the golden calf incident there were consequences that changed the nature of Moses’ instructions to Israel.  In the same way after the error of Nadav and Ahvihu new laws were given regarding the role of purity as opposed to impurity that was to be mastered by all reflected in the conduct of the community from the top down.  So this double parsha, Acharei Mot/Kedoshim, begins with the words, “after the death of Aaron’s two sons,” followed by Moses instructing Aaron about how to approach the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur to avoid what happened to those very sons.  As this section of Leviticus is the basis for what would become the Yom Kippur service today, it can teach us how to step out when approaching the sacredness of the day itself.  Therefore, the instructions given to Aaron taught that for his own sake, as well as for the sake of his household, he was to bring a sin-offering before beginning his Priestly duties: not unlike the mother in Tazria who was to bring a sin-offering after the birth of her child (cf. Lev. 12:6).  What did they do that required a sin-offering?  Perhaps that is answered by what I consider the fulcrum of Israel’s identity from parsha Kedoshim, -קדושים חהיו כ קדוש אני יהוה אלוהיכם , You (Israel) shall be holy, for I am Holy, the Lord your God.
     Regarding Aaron the High Priest (cf. Lev. 16:6) he was to offer a sacrifice for וכפר (v’chipehr), or atonement.  Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch teaches that this is because this type of sacrifice is about the “burying of the past” itself, which is “the highest act of the absolute free-will" (הרשות בידו, lit. the authority in his hand), given by God.  R’Hirsch continues to teach that this type of free-will, which is also found in the acts of God themselves, was so that human “consequences of the errors and sins of the past have no disturbing effect on the internal and external life of the future.”   But R’Hirsch would also say that in this case וכפר (v’chipehr) is not כפרת דמים (kapa’rat damim), blood atonement, but וידוי דברים (vidui d’varim), a verbal confession.  Given its proximity this appears to be about the recent past with Nadav and Ahvihu, whereas Aaron’s need to make a verbal confession represented the immediate future.  So if the “blood” of the sacrifice represented life and therefore was a purifying agent so to speak that was ritually put upon the altar (דמי טהרה  lit. the blood of purity; see Lev. 12:5 and Lev. 16:14), how was the past and future impacted by the Azazel released into the wilderness since there was no blood, no aroma and no act of ritual sacrifice?  Maimonides would say that the Azazel served the purpose of freeing the people from the burden of the past, a symbol to guide the soul to repent.  This is how Maimonides reads the Gemara from Yoma 67b that teaches how the procedure of the scapegoat is not a meaningless act since the sanctity of atonement was still achieved.  Ibn Ezra notes via the Azazel, כי הכפור יהי עליו ופירושו לשלח אותו, “through it atonement will be, and this will be accomplished by sending it away.”  Did sending the Azazel away erase the past or did it open up a door for the future?  I think the past and the future are always connected so both were accomplished.
     Aaron the High Priest was about to stand before God on Israel’s behalf, and on this day of Yom Kippur would beseech God for forgiveness and renewal.  The ritual associated with this was grand, reenacted yearly during the Yom Kippur day service in Seder Avodah, a moving moment with great meaning.  Yet we are dealing with just not the two sacrifices of Yom Kippur, one slaughtered and the other sent away, but Aaron’s own sacrifice.  But how can we understand why Aaron had to initially sacrifice for himself if the sin-offering for the past and the future was already a part of the Yom Kippur ritual?  Rashbam commenting on Leviticus 16:6 teaches that Aaron’s verbal confession had to happen before he undressed to put on the Priestly garments, a moment of transformation you might say.  In other words, just as the new mom of Tazria needed to remove herself from the past to be fully be present for her new child, every year Aaron had to devoid himself of the past, both for himself and his household, to be fully present on the day of Yom Kippur so he could administer his duties for the sake of all Israel.  Each year Aaron is reminded that he could not represent the future if carrying the stains of the past, hence the sin-sacrifice.
     Here we turn to Kedoshim, and specifically from Leviticus 19:2 that says, “You shall be holy, for I am Holy, the Lord your God.  We tend to go from 19:2 to 19:18 that talks about being holy and loving your neighbor, but in between we find laws of conduct and moral ethics that stem from the holy nature of who the people of Israel were to be and just not arbitrary behavior that served each as they pleased.  Being holy is about being connected to a higher ideal that for Torah transcends our humanity and unites with the Divine.  The middot themselves, or soul traits, are connected to the purity of the neshoma (soul/inner being) that asked Israel to separate, or consecrate themselves, not just from what was impure but toward what is pure.   This is how Aaron’s sacrifice should be understood.  Today then, with the first day of Rosh Hashanah and during the Yom Kippur day service, the Cantor/Prayer Leader steps out and recites the Hineni prayer, a prayer that includes the words, “Here I am empty of deeds and turmoil … I have come here to stand up and plead with you for your people Israel who have sent me, even though I am not worthy or fitting to come.”  The Cantor is supposed to be at-one with the magnitude of the day by recognizing the sacredness of the moment that calls for the need to make וידוי דברים, a verbal confession, before representing the community to God for the year to come. That is an awesome responsibility that requires a great deal of anavah, or humility that is rooted in kedoshim (holiness), which begins with a cleansing of the past in order to be present for the future.  This lesson that began with the new mom in Tazria, central for Aaron’s success in Acharei Mot, continues today not just for the Cantor but for all of us.  Stepping out of the past is the first step for a better and brighter future always! 
            

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Tazria-Metzora - Accessing the Habitual

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Tazria-Metzora 

Leviticus 12:1-15:33

By Adam Ruditsky

Accessing the Habitual 

     The Chofetz Chaim tells the story of a man who owned a perfume factory and ventured into a factory that produced leather goods.  Once inside the odor was so strong that the perfume merchant was affected by terrible headaches.  He left the leather factory swearing that he would never again step foot into such a place, but that would change. Upon liquidating his perfume factory the only business for this merchant to acquire was the leather factory, so he purchased it.  The early days were a challenge for him, needing to learn how to painfully tolerate the smell of the leather hides.  Finally as time passed the merchant grew accustomed to the odors until one day it was as if he had been born to be a leather manufacturer.  The Chofetz Chaim teaches us through this story that we can become immune to what is not good for us.  Parashat Tazria-Metzora teaches us that becoming immune to what is impure is also not good.
     Tazria-Metzora is the most mysterious part of Torah because of its “Sitz im leben,” a German word that means "setting in life."  I am not sure I fully grasp the setting of their world, but that problem began a long time ago.  So when addressing the nature of the Metzora (the one who has a Tazria, infection), Rashi says that “impurity” is the same as לשון הרע (L’shon hara), or malicious speech (cf. Lev. 14:4), based on the teachings of Talmud from Arachin 15b that says malicious speech denies a fundamental part of what it means to have faith in God.  Likewise with the offering of “cedarwood” required by the unclean person, the Mishnah Tanchuma teaches that the cedar tree that is tall and beautiful serves as a reminder that a person should not consider themselves to be “high” and “glorious,” Rashi therefore writes that “cedarwood” is about “haughtiness.”  When we read daily, אלהי נשמה שנתת בי טהור היא, “My God, the soul You have given me is pure,” we remember that is why Torah asks us to maintain a level of holiness.  Holiness is not haughtiness, but away to avoid it.
     The soul that is pure within us can then be polluted if not maintained, or worse it can create negative habitual behavior that we grow immune to. When looking at the idea of לנגע צרעת (l’negah tzara’at), the affliction of Tazria that is usually translated as leprosy, we also read that נגע צרעת affects garments of wool, linen and leather, everyday utensils (cf. Lev. 13:47-49) and even inside the walls of a house (cf. Lev. 14:33ff); all are victims of this affliction. What does human skin, garments, utensils and a house have in common?  Aside from the fact that there is a lot written on this, I’d say that this has to do with life; we are aware of our bodies, the cloths we wear, the tools of living that we use to eat and work as well as our dwelling places.  So when Maimonides teaches that this malady of נגע צרעת is slander, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks reacting to those words would say that the impact on a person’s skin, cloths, utensils or homes in effect is as if God is saying that a person cannot hide impurity, both inside and out, or “if you sin in private I will advertise your guilt in public.”  The sin here is the impurity of malicious speech or haughtiness, and even if done in what we might think is in private, it finds a way to get out and hurt both others and ourselves (BT Shabbat 56b). In fact, Maimonides in Mishnah Torah teaches that the actions of malicious speech share the same category as murder (MT Hilchot De’ot 7:3, laws of personal development).
     In the book, Orchot Tzaddikim, The Ways of the Righteous, we learn that one of the internal attributes that we have to recognize the negativity of malicious speech or haughtiness is bushah (בושה), or shame.  In Perkei Avot it teaches that we must build a fence around Torah in order to protect the integrity of its ways, and in Orchot Tzaddikim we read that bushah is not just a fence, but an “iron barrier” to protect us from transgression.  In Talmud from Berachot 28b when it came to transgression Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai taught, “May it be God's will that the fear of heaven be upon you as the fear of flesh and blood,” perhaps better understood to mean that as people we need a sense of awe for the sacred that we allow to guide us.  In the end Orchot Tzaddikim ties the idea of bushah with anavah, or humility.  Rabbi Samuel J. Rose of the Mussar Torah Commentary says that bushah is the end result of malicious speech or haughtiness, since gentile speech or the restraint from revenge are the byproducts of humility.  The Metzora (again, the one who is has a Tazria) by having a נגע צרעת (negah tzara’at) can be viewed as God asking Adam in the Garden of Eden “Ayekah,” where are you, not about location but about a spiritual state of being. When the Metzora recognizes that the  צרעתhas affected him/her, and are placed outside the community, a healthy sense of inward shame (bushah) will lead to personal t’shuvah to keep them from the impure.  Toward the end of Tazria-Metzora in Leviticus 15:31 it says, “you shall separate the people of Israel from their impurity,” Rashi calling that “their Sanctuary,” which we can think of as the personal and public sacred space embraced as our own.  We all feel shame, but this type of shame our tradition has redeemed for the better.
     Again, I am not sure about the true setting or the social/religious myths that sit behind the words of Tazria-Metzora, but how it has been viewed for centuries speaks to our day without a doubt.  Our country has been rocked by division and dispute and now a pandemic has changed our world as we seek answers.  I know this to be so; I cannot control this season of uncertainly but I can control how I chose to act.  Likewise, I can control how I relate to faith related matters and how that impacts how I chose to conduct myself in an ever changing world.  Tazria-Metzora is asking us to consider the personal malady’s that have gotten in the way, malady’s that we must stop from becoming habitual. 

Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Shemini - take 2 - No Travel Ban Here!

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Shemini

Leviticus 9:1-11:47

By Adam Ruditsky

     Last week I clearly lost track of time, and blew past the Passover parsha, doing Shemini a week premature.  Okay, let me get back on the bike and try again so to speak.  But this week is not like last week, not only because we had not yet begun the Chag (holiday) of Passover, but this week we are on the 6^th day of the counting of the Omer.  The counting of the Omer is one of those traditions from Torah that many people pass by, not all, but many do.  In fact, pick up a siddur and it just says after the blessing … “today is the first of the Omer, today is the second day of the Omer, today is the third day of the Omer, etc., etc., etc.  Travel seems to be a part of the Jewish narrative that began with the wandering of Adam and his family after they left Eden, the 40 days that Noah and his family spent on the ark, Abraham leaving his home for a long trip on foot to Cannon or how about the 40 years that the Jews/mixed-multitude wandered in the wilderness before reaching the promised land of Israel. And while not as long, we are now on a 49 day journey that connects Passover with Shavuot.  During this 49 days we count the Omer, and during that 49 days we make meaning to that counting.  Making meaning to this Omer based journey is exactly like making meaning to our Seder today, which goes beyond just gathering to say some prayers or reading a story of something that happened long ago.  Regarding the Omer Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes, “Time is not a series of moments traced on the face of a watch, always moving yet always the same.  Instead it is a journey with a starting point and a destination, or a story with a beginning, middle and end.  Each moment has a meaning, which can only be grasped if we understand where we have come from and where we are going to.  This is time not as it is in nature but as it is in history.”

     That history is about a people who are asked to embrace and maintain a higher value of living, a value based on the ethics of Torah.  The Omer for the Kabbalists saw each day as a way to achieve what R’Sacks called “a starting point and a destination” in the history of our tradition. Thus in the Kabbalah that 49 day period consists of the “49 gates” of impurities that Israel picked up while in Egypt.  We learn in the Zohar that if Israel had taken one more step after reaching the 49th level of tumah, or impurity, they would have fallen to the depths of depravity and would have been irredeemable since those crimes were just like the Egyptians; idolatry, adultery and other terrible transgressions.  The counting of the Omer according to the mystics were so the 49 gates of impurity were reversed.  Upon the pathway of the Omer the lower 7 of the 10 sefirot were embraced and practiced, those being Chesed (Loving-kindness), Gevurah (Justice and discipline), Tiferet (Harmony, compassion), Netzach (Endurance), Hod (Humility), Yesod (Bonding) and Malchut (Sovereignty, leadership).  Still, that is only 7 so it is 7x7 of the daily meditations.  The first day would be the chesed of chesed, the second day being the gevurah of chesed,  the 8^th day being the chesed of gevurah followed by the gevurah of gevurah, the 15^th day being the chesed of tiferet followed the gevurah of tiferet and so on.  Each day the Omer journey directs us to look at those attributes of loving-kindness, justice, harmony, endurance, etc.,  asking us to look within and take personal stock of our own characters as we connect the counting of the Omer with the purity of our neshoma.  Perhaps that is a way we can understand Psalm 42:8 that says, תְּהוֹם-אֶל-תְּהוֹם קוֹרֵא, the deep calls to the deep, the counting of the Omer is asking us to spiritually go beyond what we see. 

     Parashat Shemini, the 8^th day, followed the time when Aaron and his sons came were in seclusion for seven days in the Mishkan (cf. Lev. 8:33) to prepare themselves for their service before God on Israel’s behalf.  We then have the story of Nadav and Avihu, two of Aaron’s sons, who come near the Alter improperly and died, followed by several laws about how to approach the Alter correctly.  In the final section of Shemini there are the biblical laws of kashrut, laws that deal with animals on the land, birds in the air and the fish in the water, both in terms of eating and touching but also in how it will effect cloths and utensils.  The result of a kosher based infraction was to be put outside the camp till evening in order to cleanse oneself and return in symbolical purity.  Kosher laws were about the pure (טהור, tahor) and impure (טמא, Tamai), really meaning the permissible and forbidden.  Rashi commenting on the impure says that “everything” that comes in contact with such a vessel (the body, utensil or oven) makes that vessel impure and calls for its destruction because of its contaminated “interior space” (see Rashi on Lev. 11:33).  The kosher laws have a message of separation, separating not only from what is wrong but also separating to what is good.  The counting of the Omer is asking the same, thus by looking at our attributes we learn to separate from what is keeping our middot (soul-traits) from reaching their highest level of purity, as we pray every day, “The soul that You, my God, have given me is pure.”
     The Omer reminds us that the middah (soul-trait) of פישות  (ph’risoot), or separation, is not the same as הבדיל  (hivdiel), or distinction, such as Shabbat and the rest of the days of the week.  The middah of פישות  (separation) is not to be confused with the kosher laws themselves, which only ask us “to make a distinction (להבדיל, l’havdiel) between the unclean and the clean,” yet its larger lesson is also there for the taking.  As such, Rashi teaches that kashrut is so a person would “recognize” the need to distinguish between the pure and the impure, something that would have helped Nadav and Avihu to separate from their wrong and separate to a better way.  In the end we can learn from this parsha that when we place a value on what we deem to be Holy or Sacred, we must separate ourselves (spiritually, physically and emotionally) from what impedes us to reach the destination of our higher self.
     We have 43days left till we reach Shavuot where we celebrate the giving of Torah.  During this time we should strive to make that journey from bondage to true freedom one of great value, although we must also be reminded that in Torah Israel's journey took place as they wandered in the wilderness; something that is very real for us right now.  We might be at home but we never stop traveling.  Please stay safe.    

Mo'adim L'simha and Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Shemini - The Separation Paradigm

רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah

Parashat Shemini

Leviticus 9:1-11:47

By Adam Ruditsky

    Tonight (Wednesday) begins Passover, a family/community holiday that fell this year is an atmosphere of separation because of this pandemic.  What happens if a child (children) comes over or you go to your parent’s home, do we practice social distancing with our own family, do we give a hug?  Whoever thought that we would have to deal with this, and in particular now.  I am also amazed how in a relatively short period of time America has mobilized to become a “virtual” nation, seemingly in almost every aspect of how we function we have adjusted, making “space” to live in a world that asks us to separate in order to remain healthy and alive.  As I read this weeks parsha I was even more curious about what moves us to embrace separation?  None of us what to be sick, and for others it is a matter of life and death.  In this case Parashat Shemini is about separation, although this type of separation is between the pure and impure.  Let’s consider what that means.                 

     After being secluded in the Mishkan for seven days, Aaron and his sons arrived at their day of consecration before the entire community on the “eighth” (שמיני, shemini) day, completing their mandatory separation (cf, Lev. 8:33, 9:1).  The parsha contains three sections; chapters 9 and 10 are about the sacrifices and their miss appropriation that called for additional laws, with chapter 11 being about Kosher laws.  It may also appear that since we no longer have a Temple and do not practice the ritual of sacrifice only the Kosher laws matter, but that is not the case.  Therefore, after Aaron is consecrated to serve as High Priest by engaging in the ritual of sacrifice, Nadav and Avihu, two of Aaron’s sons, come near the Alter improperly and die.  As you can imagine there is a lot of commentary around this scene of many questions, but according to tradition Nadav and Avihu entered the Mishkan “intoxicated” (Leviticus Rabbah 12:1) and with the wrong motivation (see Rashi on 24:11).  This view of Nadav and Avihu’s intoxication is more than likely connected with the additional laws that followed. with Leviticus 10:8-9 saying, “The Lord spoke to Aaron saying, Drink no wine nor strong drink, you, nor your sons with you, when you go into the tent of meeting, that you do not die; it shall be a statute forever throughout your generations.”
     What happened with these two sons of Aaron after they spent a week secluded in the Mishkan that made them do what they did?  A Gemora from Talmud teaches that there was a correct way and a wrong way to approach the Alter, with the wrong way and reason resulting in death (Yoma 53a), Eben Ezra simply says that doing that before God was “unfitting.”  Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch makes the observation that Nadav and Avihu are not called sons of Aaron, but that Aaron had two sons, speaking to the sons origin as opposed to their lineage.  This is because they chose to be disconnected and stand upon their individuality apart from the wisdom of their father and/or the guidance of the community, for “a Jewish Priest is entirely at one with, and a part and parcel of, the nation, is in no way separated from it.”  The focus in Jewish teaching is often not what they did but what made them do it.  This was about making the wrong choice and reaping the rewards of that choice.  More than that, they did not separate from the unholy as Priests.   

     Chapter 11 is regarding what is and what is not Kosher (well in the Bible that is).  It deals with animals on the land, birds in the air and the fish in the waters, both in terms of eating and touching but also how it will effect cloths and utensils.  Kosher and non-kosher here is about the pure and impure, and the penalty often is just to be separated outside camp until evening.  The terms pure (טהור, tahor) and impure (טמא, Tamai) function as permissible and forbidden, although as said we also read that a garment, a utensil or even an oven can have such impurities (cf. Lev. 11:32 and 11:35).  Rashi commenting on this says that “everything” that comes in contact with such a vessel (i.e. utensil or oven) makes that vessel impure and calls for its destruction because of its contaminated “interior space” (see Rashi on Lev. 11:33).  Still, even after the mikveh, Rashi notes that a pure person must remain separated outside the camp till evening even though they have been immersed, something that Maimonides says is about a complete and full bathing of the body that was meant to take place outside of the camp..  
     Nadav and Avihu separated themselves from what was sacred and instead elected to separate themselves unto frivolous behavior that they paid for with their lives  The Kosher laws say that when you separate yourself to what is sacred, if you embrace impurity along the way you need to quarantine effectively, go outside the camp and cleanse yourself before re-entering since the neshoma has been contaminated.  Mussar teaches the middah (soul-trait) of פישות  (ph’risoot), or separation, but that is not the same as הבדיל (hivdiel), or distinction, such as Shabbat and the rest of the days of the week.  The middah of פישות  is what Nadav and Avihu chose not to practice whereas Kosher laws were laws “to make a distinction (להבדיל, l’havdiel) between the unclean and the clean.  Rashi would say that this is so a person would “recognize” the need to distinguish between the pure and the impure, but with Nadav and Avihu this was about the need to see that some things demand a complete separation, both from and to.  In the end we can learn from this parsha that when we place a value on what we deem to be Holy or Sacred, we must separate ourselves (spiritually, physically and emotionally) from what impedes us to reach that destination.  As we enter this Passover season may we separate from whatever slavery we find ourselves in, seeking the path of freedom we long for.  Please stay safe, and although we hear it way too much, we are all in this together.
       

Chag Pesach Sameach and Shabbat Shalom!

Parashat Tzav - Order and the Dexterity of detail

                                                   רפואה מן התורה

Healing from the Torah

Parashat Tzav

Leviticus 6:1-8:36

By Adam Ruditsky

     How many times have I heard it said over the past week something to the effect of, “my routine is off now that I am stuck at home, I really miss the order to my days.”  We get up, have our morning rituals that may or may not include a cup of coffee, send the kids off to school, often travel the same route to our workplace, have lunch at a set time and set place (and often eat the same thing), go to the gym after work, walk the dog when you get home, make dinner, read a good book or watch Netflix, etc., etc., etc.;  you get the picture.  Clearly this is something that is taken for granted by most of us until our present-reality asked us to “shelter-in-place.”  It was in that spirit last week we began the book of Leviticus that reflected on the Holy, but also being holy, and this week we see that “doing” holy is not arbitrary but has order.    
     To recall then last week in parashat Vayikra we looked at the redemptive nature of the sacrifices themselves, something that was connected not only to the Holy (God), but itself was a holy act that demanded it be approached with the right motivation.  This week in Tzav we are overwhelmed with the specifics pertaining to the detailed execution of the sacrifices themselves.  In Vayikra God “called” to Moses to “speak” to “all the people of Israel,” whereas in Tzav God tells Moses to “command” his brother Aaron (and his sons) to the particulars of the Priesthood’s responsibility in carrying out the sacrificial rituals.  Furthermore, in Vayikra we learned that choosing to be holy is not a commandment since you cannot mandate human free-will, but in Tzav we learn that this is a “command” as opposed to suggestion because “doing” acts of holiness require a best and a more effective way.  Tzav, taken from צב את אהרן (Moses “commanded [tzav] Aaron”), can be likened to the old idiom that say’s “the devil is in the detail," as detail can be burdensome or even conflicting when it takes more time and/or effort than expected.  As such, we find in Tzav the painstaking procedure and methods of how to execute the details of the burnt-offering and the grain-offering as well as the guilt-offering and sin-offering.  Likewise we also read about the specifics of how the Priests were to follow and carry out the ritual order of anointing (consecration of) Aaron and his son’s as well as the vestments and other related items used.  Finally, it goes into extreme detail about the how, who and when regarding the sacrifices themselves to include who can or cannot partake of its meat; back then the allowable parts were eaten for provision as well as payment.  What can we learn from this parsha?    

     Rabbi Nichole Auerbach in the Mussar Commentary suggests that the particulars associated with this parsha speak to the idea of סדר (seder; order) although I want to add that the details and specifics that incorporate סדר falls under the heading of חשבון הנפש (Cheshbone haNefesh - soul/self-accounting).  In today’s vernacular we call that “mindfulness,” a word that means “to be present,” thus Carl Jung writes that “living” does not make a person alive/present, but being “fully conscious of the presence does” or mindfulness.  Regarding Tzav חשבון הנפש asks the adjudicator and giver to be mindful in doing the ritual so that it will not become stale or just routine, making sure there is no lack of intention (kavanah) or heartfelt motivation.  As such, R’Auerbach says that order in our rituals are because “from the beginning God has a preference for order over chaos,” order regulates and guides what we do and how we do it.  Yet order has a center, and for Torah that center is God.  The center, or God, is what gives voice to the power of order that itself can be called מנוחת הנפש (m’nuchat hanefesh; lit. rest of the soul/person), or equanimity.  Equanimity, according to Mussar Rabbi Menachem Mendel Lefin in his book Chesbone HaNefesh, is about the calmness of mind that “sits quietly on guard” so that a person can take “control” over their free-will.  In this case disorder comes when mental balance is lost from being overburdened, something that happens when chaos rules the day, and therefore the mind and spirit.  The discipline of מנוחת הנפש, equanimity, allows a person to ascend the lack of order or the chaos of life by doing חשבון הנפש, or by being mindful to the purpose of order.  Therefore in Tzav when Aaron carried out his duties, both the glamorous ones and what we can call “grunt work,” he needed to transcend the disorder that lay before him to ascend to that place where he could do his service without compromising the details of his duties.  I encourage you to read the parsha and reflect upon it for yourself about the detailed order within.

     In the Talmud, Megillah 31b, there is a conversation about how to gain merit if the sacrifices are no longer carried out?  The Rabbis teach that the study of sacrifices are likened to a virtual sacrificial offering because they still have something to teach us.  In our case they teach us about the need to have order in our lives as we seek to achieve what we deem worthy and Holy.  On so many different levels right now life is challenging and not one of us who breathes is not a victim to this mess.  That being so in the same way we now exercise at home because we can’t go the gym to make order out of this disorder, our sense of spirituality can very well be the same, thus we can be assisted by the tradition of מנוחת הנפש (m’nuchat hanefesh), or equanimity, to have peace of mine despite what is out of our control.  These are trying times that demand we are mindful (חשבון הנפש) about bringing order (סדר) into our world, both spiritually and practically.  Parashat Tzav is all about the dexterity of detail. 
       

Shabbat Shalom!