The Wild Side

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By Lauviticus

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This week we are crossing over into the fourth book of Moses, leaving Leviticus behind and venturing upon the Wilderness which is Sinai. The fourth book is known in English as 'Numbers' - due to the population census that happens in the first few chapters, but this book is less about bureaucracy and more about existence on the wild side of life.
The book's Hebrew name is Ba'Midbar – literally translated as 'in the wilderness' that geographical AND mythic landscape sometimes translated as 'desert' or 'wasteland'. The Hebrew meaning of the word 'midbar', somewhat lost in translation conceals dunes and expanses of deeper meanings, turning a physical location into a metaphysical truth.

A medieval Jewish collection of legends called Simon's Satchel writes:
'As the wilderness is endless – so are the teachings of Torah endless.' Thus, as many others have suggested, the very notion of engaging with a sacred text and the notion of seeking divine revelation is deeply linked to the very location of this historic revelation – the wilderness of Sinai. Why does one have to venture out to the wild in order to encounter the mystery? Perhaps it is because the emptiness of the expanses opens up a possible portal for higher, or deeper, listening. The Torah was not revealed in the Promised Land, but rather, poignantly, in the middle of nowhere. Where in your life does this principle hold true? (and we don't just mean turning off a highway to walk quietly, or turning off a cellphone to be fully present, but those are good places to start.)

The word MIDBAR originates from DBR, a primitive Semitic root meaning 'to speak;' but also and in a more destructive sense – 'to subdue' or 'disperse'. This is the same root of the word 'Commandment'-as in the 'ten commandments' and also the most popular word in the Torah – 'He spoke' as in 'God spoke to Moses'. In its warfare context the word is used to describe the annihilation of enemies, and in Modern Hebrew it is the word used to describe the fight against disease or the fumigation of bugs. Somehow the power of the word is such that it is the very root of constructing or deconstructing reality, and somehow, as our dictionary suggest, the word midbar is intimately linked with the word dabar---space becomes speech.

The fourth book of Moses describes the bulk of the wandering in Sinai, over thirty years of survival in a great wilderness, many deaths, and many miraculous moments. As we cross the threshold into this reality, on the eve of Shavuot – the holiday commemorating the revelation at Sinai, Lauviticus would like to invite us all to pause and take a deep breath of desert air. What awaits us on the wild side? Where, in our urban modern lives, is the space that beckons for sacred listening and inspirational speech? Let's take a walk on this wild side, if only safely through the weekly telling of the wanderings of our ancestors.
We begin the journey and end with a quote from a contemporary seeker of revelation:

"I am here not only to evade for a while the clamor and filth and confusion of the cultural apparatus but also to confront, immediately and directly if it's possible, the bare bones of existence, the elemental and fundamental, the bedrock which sustains us. " (From 'Desert Solitaire' by Edward Abbey)

Shabbat shalom!

PS - Speaking of crying out in the wilderness - Lauviticus is VERY CURIOUS - are you reading this? listening to the audio? ANYBODY OUT THERE IN THE WILDERNESS? please take a few seconds to let us know.
Your feedback is critical and very much appreciated. Find us at:
lauviticus@storahtelling.org

Have A Blast!


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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This coming Sabbath will bid Leviticus farewell, until next year, as smoke trails off the altar into the vast wilderness which is Sinai. The combined Torah portions of ‘B’har-Bechuokotai’ conclude this perplexing book, complete with rules and regulations that defy our modern sensibilities; divine demands that have challenged countless generations to find relevant meaning in a discontinued sacrificial system. Mystics and sages have translated and interpreted Leviticus in ways that attempt to make rhyme or reason, but this week, an important Biblical law becomes the domain of the economists and environmentalists among us - ideologists of sustainable living for planetary survival. The law in question is that of the Jubilee - an often lost- in-translation concept that is one of the most audacious and utopian social reforms to have emerged from the Bible. So audacious in fact that is most likely sci-fi and never really happened. Fact of fiction – it is still a compelling case for healthy living and a great example of biblical translation out on a major limb.

The basics: grounded in the notion that a healthy lifestyle calls for a balance between ‘doing’ and ‘being’ the Bible calls for eternal rhythms revolving in cycles of seven. It starts with the Sabbath - every seventh day is dedicated to rest, expanding to the Sabbatical - every seventh year, in which the earth herself rests, and finally, to the Jubilee – the culmination of seven cycles of seven years– the fiftieth year of complete rest for all. It’s a great concept and is even engraved on the liberty bell in Philadelphia. But where does this word ‘Jubilee’ come from?

Lev. 25:10 ‘And you shall hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout the land unto all the inhabitants thereof; it shall be a jubilee unto you’. The Hebrew for Jubilee is YOVEL – and it’s no coincidence that they sound the same. While the Fox translation renders ‘yovel’ as ‘Home-bringing’ and the Greek translation of Torah used the term ‘release’, something gets lost in the primal reality of this ritual. The word Yovel may have meant ‘ram’ as in the animal – and by extension, also meant ‘the ram’s horn’ as in – the Shofar. The Fiftieth year was ushered in on the Day of Atonement to the blast of the ram’s horn, thus lending the entire year its name, both practical and symbolic. So while the ultimate derivation of the word jubilee is disputed, it’s interesting that the very notion of liberty and rest stems from an obscure musical moment. The sound of the Shofar, according to Kabalistic views, is the very sound of the Divine – a hollow carving through time and space. Amazing to think that the original Fiftieth year was known for precisely this concept, now lost in translation. Interesting also to note how this verse made it onto a bell – a modern version of a ram’s horn – a musical ritual intended to announce, celebrate and – Jubilate – another derivative of this word, Jubilee.

While we don’t have the Jubilee concept for global rest in practice, we do have the 50th night of the Seven Week count towards Revelation at Sinai. This coming Shavuot, Lauviticus invites you to ring the bells, blast the horns, and contemplate where in your life is the need and ability to carve out space and time for divine rest – a divine blast.

The Day After


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By Lauviticus

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Some biblical words, like, say, 'abomination' carry great emotional baggage and cause social revolutions. But there are some words that are rather technical but have actually caused full-on religious schism. This week's Torah episode, entitled ' Emor', contains one such word, seemingly simple, surprisingly complex. The word is 'Sabbath' but it is NOT just any Sabbath. The historical schism in question, 2,000 years old, stems from two different ways of determining the context for this particular Sabbath, resulting in two different Jewish calendars, and two opposing doctrines dealing with biblical translation/interpretation. Is the Bible literal or not? How open is it to human analysis and adaptation? This IS the stuff religious wars are made of, then and now.

The context for this problematic 'Sabbath' is the instruction to count fifty days from Passover to Shavuot, from the Exodus to the Revelation at Sinai. But when do you start counting exactly? In the late Second Temple era, the Pharisees went against the Sadducees in determining this crucial date. At the time, these two views represented the two main sects of Judaism. Today, the debate is no longer an issue, the Pharisees won – but there is something about this controversy that it both timeless and timely.

Leviticus chapter 23, verse 15 reads:

'And from the day on which you bring the sheaf of elevation offering---the day after the sabbath---you shall count off seven weeks. ( Etz Chayyim)

The 'sheaf of elevation offering' is known as the Omer, and the counting of the seven weeks, leading to the 50th night, usually begins right at Passover. The word 'Sabbath' according to the current understanding refers to the First Day of Passover– not to the Sabbath that falls during the Passover week. In this context the word 'Sabbath' means 'Holy Day' – not necessarily 'Seventh Day'. The countdown to Sinai begins, according to this reading, favored by the Pharisees, on the day following the Seder.

In accordance with this view, the Orthodox Artscroll Torah translates this verse as:

You shall count for yourselves---from the morrow of the rest day when you bring the Omer of the waiving---seven weeks; they shall be complete.

But the Sadducees liked to read the Torah literally, and insisted that the word 'Sabbath' does not mean 'holy day' but rather what it usually means – 'the seventh day'. According to this system, the counting of the Omer begins on the first Sunday during Passover week. This of course results in a different date for the celebration of Shavuot, and in accusations of heresy, on both sides of the debate.

The interpretation of this word became one of the major points of controversy between the two sects. While the Sadducees controlled the High Priesthood, the Pharisees controlled the judicial courts and intellectual leadership. Eventually, the Temple burnt, and the Pharisees, known also as the Rabbis or the Sages, took over the leadership. An interpretive reading of Bible, based on the oral tradition, prevailed, and has been the backbone of Jewish scholarship, and strife, ever since.

We're tempted to endorse the post modern approval of multiplicity and pluralism, imagining a reality where neighbors celebrate the same holiday on two different dates and it's not a big deal. But there are, of course, the down sides to this approach, where diversity becomes anarchy. Modern Jews don't argue about when Shavuot occurs these days, but how are the residues of this ancient debate still shaping and shaking our attempts at being a united people, once again on the road to Sinai? Who are the current day 'literal' readers of Scripture and where are the fighters for an ongoing human understanding of the ancient revelations? The answers to those questions are not so simple – and we'd love your thoughts.

The countdown to Sinai continues.

Taboo or not Taboo?


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By Lauviticus

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Last week’s Torah episode beckoned us to probe the darker side of life, where illness and loneliness demand of us humans to overcome fear and embrace the divine image inside all. This week – this challenging journey continues, as Leviticus continues to outline a collage of laws, including the do’s and don’ts of sexual conduct. Achrei Mot-Kedoshim is another double portion, cramming in not only the list of taboos, but also the rituals of the Day of Atonement, the way to treat a senior citizen, and other useful rules for kosher civic behavior . We were tempted to discuss bestiality, but thanks to Governor Spitzer, who JUST THIS MORNING announced his intention to seriously pursue the legalization of Gay Marriage in the State of New York, we’re going with the next best thing – the taboo oddly known as Sodomy.

OK, NEVERMIND how Sodomy came to describe homosexual relations – this is a curious enough fact that we reserve for another time. What interests us is the key word that is used to describe the problem that the Biblical authors had with these type of relations – a word that got tossed around a lot in the past years and months – especially in Conservative Jewish circles. The word is TOEVA, often translated as ‘abomination’, and though it appears throughout the Bible in multiple contexts, it is this week’s mention that usually draws the biggest crowds:

Leviticus 18:22

‘You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.’

Most translators use ‘abomination’, while some use ‘abhorrence’, ‘an abhorrent thing’, ‘disgusting’, or ‘un-natural’. The Fox translation adds an exclamation mark – ‘abomination!’ (he does that with all sexual offenses, maybe it heightens the drama.)

Richard Friedman chooses to translate Toeva as ‘an offensive thing’, and in his translators notes adds: “in the present state of knowledge concerning homosexuality, it is difficult to justify its prohibition in the Torah…In my own view… it is not an ‘offensive thing’. “



Friedman is, thankfully, not alone in voicing this opinion, and very recently the Conservative Movement boldly chose to embrace this view as well, allowing the ordination of LGBT rabbis. But anyone reading carefully reading the lengthy legalistic that led to this historical decision cannot avoid the complex tightrope that the rabbis are walking while trying to juggle the ancient concept of ‘Toeva’ with the contemporary sensibility to human dignity. Amazingly, it really comes down to that one word and how it can be translated and understood in modern times.

Elsewhere in the Torah, Toeva appears in the context of behavior that is foreign and therefore suspicious to local customs and tastes. Earlier in Genesis, for instance, Joseph explains to his brothers how their way of making a living as shepards is an Egyptian social taboo . It is a TOEVA, he says to them – a loathsome, or disgusting, or abominable local custom.

Toeva is clearly a relative term, varying according to human perceptions. Challenging though this is to a literal reading of Torah as perennial truth, it is a compelling invitation for us to not only translate, but also to dig deeper in our quest for justice and new meaning. Rabbi Elliot Dorf, one of the active voices behind the Conservative movement’s decision was quotes as saying: ‘We have to interpret God’s will in our time.’

Will Spitzer pass the vote? Perhaps not just yet, but at least for many more around the world and at least in New York state,, what was once an abomination is realized more as simply another sacred way of life.

Never Alone


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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Click For Podcast This week, Leviticus goes medical, delving into intimate and sometimes troubling details that have to do with human discharges, general mutilations and genital mutations. There is nothing profane about the wonders of nature, especially when the miracle of birth is discussed, and even when things go wrong in the body, but honestly, not everybody wants to discuss this stuff in the middle of Synagogue. But the Torah goes there – and especially this week – when the Supreme Court of the one of the world's leading democracies has taken a painful stand on the rights of humans to determine what is holy and sacred – a stand inspired in no small part by a narrow reading of biblical ethics – it is important to note the this ancient text addresses the human experience in ways that may hold the keys to a much better system of human health and dignity. We just need to read closer, and perhaps, Tazria – Metzora – this double whammy torah portion that has challenged rabbinic sermons for generations, calls for precisely this careful re-view of what is or isn't sacred, gross, or worthy of public discourse. In some ways, this text demands that we deal with all that life – and death - has to offer – in the noblest and most humane way possible.

One of the challenges to human wellbeing that is discussed here is an
ailment commonely referred to as 'leprosy.' This is probably not the
condition that modern medicine recognizes as such (still prevalent in parts of the world) but is some kind of a general biblical prognosis for an overall bad state of skin disfigurement – although it can also be found on houses or inanimate objects. The real issue with leprosy, however, goes beyond skin deep.
Over time, lepers have been identified not only as persons with a specific physical illness, but also as metaphoric carriers of alienation, disfigurement, and 'Otherness'. The one key feature about lepers is the keen interest of society to keep them isolated – out of sight, and out of mind. This is a healthy precaution perhaps, but also a human cruelty. A random Google search for 'leprosy' yields an astonishingly high number of associations with HIV/AIDS - and never kindly.

We can't argue with the medical demand for sterility and the prevention of spreading disease –– but we can read closer and challenge the notion that the random carriers of such conditions are to be subjects of estrangement and loneliness. When translating one verse in this torah episode, several translators tackle this challenge and offer subtle solutionst:

Leviticus chapter 13, verse 46 describes the fate of the leper: "All the days in which the plague is in him he shall be unclean; he shall dwell alone; outside the camp shall his dwelling be."

The Hebrew word for ALONE is 'Badad' – translated elsewhere as 'solitary', 'separately', 'in isolation', 'kept by himself', or 'dwell apart'.

The classic Aramaic translation, the Pseudo Jonathan, goes even further - adding another prohibition that increases the leper's
loneliness: 'he shall dwell alone by himself, to the side of his wife he must not come near.'

These translations are similar – but not identical – offering different treatments and varying degrees of human dignity. They seem to suggest that 'alone' does not have to mean 'lonely'.

It's difficult to translate this Biblical verse and transcend its necessary but cruel implications, but maybe we can do what one is supposed to do with this text – read it carefully, challenged it, translate it anew. Maybe this is a reminder for us to take every measure possible to honor 'other' in our midst and alleviate the emotional and physical pain of suffering in every way possible. Can we find which is the part in our selves, in our community, which is a temporary, lonely leper and do something to ease the pain and increase the intimacy so much yearned for by all who plagued by life?

Remember how Princess Diana kissed kids with AIDS back in the 80's?
Here's to more of that.

Playing With Fire


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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With Passover now over, we return to the weekly installment of the sacred saga, and this week takes us into the fire, literally, retelling a tragedy that engulfed, like flames, an auspicious day awaited with much anticipation.

The name of this week’s Torah episode is Shmini – the Eighth Day – and it refers to the day on which the Tabernacle was to be officially inaugurated, following seven days of intricate rituals. In chapter 9 of Leviticus, Aaron and his sons successfully perform their required duties, and right on cue the heavenly fire descends from heaven and consumes the offerings. The Hebrews love the fireworks, "and all the people saw, shouted, and fell on their faces." But playing with fire is tricky business, even for Levites, and the joy quickly turned to horror as something went terribly wrong: the Eighth Day of celebration turned into the first day of seven days of mourning for two young priests, the sons of Aaron. Were they victims, martyrs or sinners? Different translations shed different light on what exactly happens here, altering their actions, motives and consequences – giving us various options to comprehend an otherwise totally mysterious and heartbreaking event:

Leviticus 10:1-2 Now Aaron's sons, Nadab and Abihu, each took his fire pan, put fire in it, and laid incense on it; and they offered alien fire before the LORD, which he had not enjoined upon them. And fire came forth from the Lord and consumed them. (JPS)

The key word here is the one used to describe the fire – JPS uses ‘Alien’ to translate the Hebrew Zara, while the King James prefers ‘unholy’, and others opt for ‘outside fire’ or ‘strange fire’.

The Hebrew root - ZOOR carries the suggestion of the estranged, the profane, even the abnormal, and there are other synonyms—excessive, deviant or perverse---which suggest something about the character and motivation of the two sons. On the other hand in some classic commentaries, their trespass is viewed as an excess of zeal and their deaths a kind of holy ecstasy. The Zohar, for instance, sees their death not as a sign of profane behavior but simply as a warning for the importance of timing and preparation when matters of the mystical are at hand.

In the end their motives remain a mystery, but Nadab and Abihu are remembered as boundary crossers, guilty of excess. Their deaths remain a warning of what it means to play with divine fire. How thin the line between being ‘fired up’ and being ‘fired’…

Those of us who play with the sacred fires of our tradition---the white fire and the black---find in these two sons of Aaron a cautionary tale. How much is too much? When are we - as individuals or a community - guilty of bringing too much ‘other’ into our inherited legacy, and is there a measure for that ‘otherness’? The eighth day looms over the book of Leviticus, smoke trailing off into the Sinai sky, etching question marks that linger on:

Where and when are we playing with fire in our lives? (Think Don Imus…)

Hide and Seek


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

The special torah reading for the Shabbat of Passover continues the telling of the Passover saga where the Seder leaves off: the day after the crossing of the sea, and the day after that: forty years of wandering on the way to the promised land. Dayenu, they say, the tired ex slaves, on their eternal journey to freedom - enough already! but the story (like some seders) persists, and, fed by manna, torn by ongoing strife, the children of Israel trudge on through the wilderness on their way home. But not really. None of the 'children' who left Egypt will actually make it there, their children, the next generation, born in Sinai will inherit the promise. Residues of how bitterly this story ends for so many are still in our teeth this post seder morning – left over horseradish, bits of matza – yes, we won and here we are, but at what price freedom? Would they have left Egypt knowing that they will die in unmarked graves in the middle of nowhere? Given the same opportunity today, would any one of us make that sacrifice? Would any of us have this level of FAITH in the unknown?

Faith is a big deal in this Passover story. Perhaps that's why our ancient sages chose the "post golden calf" scenario for the weekly torah telling that falls on Passover – telling us something about hindsight and perspective, teasing our endless fascination with wanting to believe and know what comes ahead. Even Moses, the greatest prophet, is eager to know what's ahead, not only that – he wants to SEE the head---the very face of the boss for whom he labors. In a famous passage in Exodus 33 – the bulk of this week's tale – he pleads with the Divine for forgiveness for the cattle worshipping Hebrews (granted, sort of), and demands to see or know who God is. What follows is a cryptic description of a revelation far more intimate than Sinai – for most translators render the event as 'God showing Moses God's behind', quite literally. Some translators surprise us by taking this metaphor deeper – addressing the human demand for empirical knowledge that will enhance faith AND the seemingly Divine reluctance to supply this 'proof'.

In chapter 33 God instructs Moses to stand inside the cleft of a rock, eyes covered by God's hands, until the following happens:

33:23 And I will take away mine hand, and thou shalt see my back parts: but my face shall not be seen. (King James Bible)

Here the translators added a footnote to the word 'back': 'As much of my glory as in this mortal life you are able to see'

Most translators render the Hebrew word 'Achorai" as 'God's back parts', breezing through this shocking striptease without a flinch. Michelangelo went as far as depicting the very muscular behind of the Lord on the very ceiling of the Sistine Chapel – two panels away from that famous finger (how did he get away with THAT??) But the classic Jewish translators simply couldn't bring themselves to portray God in such human and disturbingly mundane terms, going out on a limb to translate this verse as allegory:

The Aramaic Pseudo Jonathan translation provides one amazing image based on lore – God showing Moses the Divine (and possibly feminine ) nape – adorned with the leather phylacteries – Tefilin shel rosh, a blurred vision amid a mob of angels:

"And I will make the host of angels who stand and minister before Me to pass by, and you shall see the edge of the tephillin of My glorious Presence ; but the face of the glory of My Presence you can not be able to see. "

Meanwhile Onkelos, the other premiere Aramaic translator, usually quite literal, goes all philosophical:

'and I will take away the word of My Glory, and you shall see that which is after Me, but My Aspect shall not be seen.'

There is a lot of hide and seek going on during a Passover seder – broken matzas traded in for expectations and prizes. But maybe the real hide and seek is more internal, echoed in this mysterious passage. If even the greatest of prophets gets to only know the true meaning of the past, but not the future, what of us mere mortals? And perhaps the seeking is even deeper – the search for faith – for the ultimate proof of God, the possibility of hope in narrow places and hard times, the promise of redemption, something to hold on to during the long way home. It may not be much, but for us at Lauviticus Headquarters, seeing God's ass is plenty of comfort, and we walk on, single file, all the way to the next part of the story.

Bread of Hope


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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Last week we ventured into the mysterious terrain of the Leviticus sacrificial cult and its possible modern application - obviously a subject of some interest since we got some great comments and discussions. This week we are delving deeper into the small print of the priestly procedures, focusing on one element that has a lot to do with the upcoming holiday of Passover: the mysterious matza.


If you pause to think of it, Passover is a product of an elegant evolution – what started 2,000 years ago or so as a ceremonial BBQ conducted outdoors under a full moon, with greasy hands, freshly slaughtered lamb and quick words of praise has turned into an elaborate feast full of obligatory nuance. We may have lost the BBQ but we did retain some of the key ingredients, including a carbohydrate much loved, loathed, and possibly lost in translation. What is interesting about this week's Torah episode, Tzav, is that it shows us how matza was not a food item exclusively reserved for Passover – rather, it is a sacred food item identified with the priestly privilege and with the boundaries of what is or is not 'kosher' or 'holy' all year round. Chapter 6 in Leviticus describes the procedure of the 'gift offering' – a donation of flour or grain handled by the sons of Aaron the high priest themselves. Verses 7 and 8 describe what they do with the leftovers:


'What is left of the offering shall be eaten by Aaron and his sons; it shall be eaten as unleavened cakes in the sacred precinct, they shall eat it in the enclosure of the tent of meeting… It shall not be baked with leaven."


The Hebrew for 'unleavened cakes' is 'Matzot', translated elsewhere as 'bread without yeast', 'unleavened bread', 'flat baked goods' or 'holy things'. The focus is on a type of bread that did not involve the natural process of 'rising' – yeastless, basic, the simplest form of nutrition. Matzot appear all thru Leviticus – a familiar item on several other sacrificial procedures that have nothing to do with Passover. So how did they become the icon most recognized with this holiday?



We know Matza from the story of the hurried escape from Egypt – the original fast food on the run, sanctified and commoditized. While this may be true history and Judeo Gastronomic mythology, it is also possible that the practice of eating this symbolic bread existed separately, as a way to honor life's basic sanctity and nutrition. The priests had to eat the leftover matzot at a specific time and place – much like our modern obligation regarding Passover. Symbolic and still unleavened, this is one tough cracker that has made it into history and rose to the top of the Jewish food list – yeast or no yeast. Ultimately, the matza became an icon of potential, of hopeful possibilities yet to come. It is the bread of hope.

This Passover, as you take your first bite of this biblical bread, we invite you to take your time, appreciate the sacredness of the moment, the amazing history of what you are about to ingest, and the transmitted half-baked mystery that helps keep some nights more exciting and special than all others.



Have a delicious and meaningful Passover!

Give it Some Thought.


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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This week Lauviticus does Leviticus – the third book of the five opens with a divine call to worship, followed by endless instructions and recipes for specifics of this complex worship – the appropriate operational maintenance of the holy tent. Other than serving as the resting place for God’s presence on earth, the tabernacle functioned as the nerve center of the newly formed Hebraic Cult – focusing on the ongoing exchange of human gifts and Divine favor. The technical term for this exchange system is known in English as ‘sacrifice’ derived from the Latin word for ‘sacred’. Throughout the ancient world, sacrifices (mostly of animals and vegetation, though is some cases of humans) were the primal and primary method of celebrating the connection between earth and heaven, life and death. The food would be most often divided between the people present, the rest would burn on the altar as the smoke would rise vertically and reach heaven, and a visceral, sensory experience offered divine consolations, expiation, and healing to the person in need.
What of this ancient technology lingers today? And what of the semantics of this discontinued praxis continues to play a role in our contemporary
forms of worship and social interaction? As usual, we find that some of
the intricate meaning of this concept is lost in translation, and in this case the word in question is the very root of the matter. The word ‘Korban’
– most often translated as ‘offering’, appears at the very top of the book, Chapter 1, verse 2:

Speak to the people of Israel and say to them: When any of you bring an offering of livestock to the LORD, you shall bring your offering from the herd or from the flock. (JPS)

‘Offering’ is the most popular way of translating ‘Korban’, followed by ‘sacrifice’. The Targum, gives us the old fashioned "oblation," and Everett Fox gives us "near-offering," which captures the root meaning in the word korban, which means "to come near."

Clearly all this offering of grain and animal was in part the practical
means by which the priests, who did not work otherwise, were fed, and the
God they served was propitiated. But it was also the means by which the common person experienced some connection to the sacrificial cult, some drawing near. The offering was a sacrifice in part because it meant giving up some part of your capital, maybe even a part of your very being – a substitution for self.

What might be the equivalent for us in the modern world of the act of korban? What might we do that could cost us something and bring us closer to the mystery of life, death, past and future? What other words may best address this system of spiritual intimacy – succeeding where ‘offering’ or ‘sacrifice’ simply seem too archaic and bloody?

In the late 19th century, a German Jewish scholar by the name of Samson Raphael Hirsch wrestled with the German translation of the sacrificial concept, concluding that ‘ It is most regrettable that we have no word which really reproduces the idea which lies in the expression Korban… this term is used exclusively with reference to man's relation to God and can only be understood from the meaning which lies in its root, KRV: to approach, to come near, and so to get into close relationship with the Divine.’

So what do you call the act of meditation, or a gym work out, or a fundraising campaign, or volunteering at a soup kitchen – all valid ways of dealing with one’s issues and coming closer to one’s self, and one’s community, via an active performance of sorts. Maybe the key here is the word ‘give’, in all its ramifications. And so Lauviticus would like to
suggest: ‘You shall bring your Giving’.

We’d LOVE feedback on this one. GIVE IT SOME THOUGHT!

Smoke and Mirrors


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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Exodus exits this week, mission accomplished: the Hebrew Nation is born and
on its way home. The book ends with the last moments of preparation for
cutting the ribbon – activation of the brand new sanctuary to the Deity who
delivered deliverance. Poetically, the saga that started with slaves
building bricks of bitterness concludes with a community of artisans
erecting a home for God. Another book-end motif of the birth-myth of the
Hebrews is the profound, but underplayed role of the women. In this weekly
double Torah Episode 'Vakhel Pekudei' – lost in the lists of generous
contributions to the tabernacle, hides a word – and hides a story about
survival, sexual arousal, and feminine intelligence – hinting at the erotic
and mystical dimensions of the sacred.

It all begins innocently enough; when it was time for the construction of
the Sacred Sink – a washing station for the tabernacle employees – the
Levites. This is the only plumbing device featured in the plans for the
mishkan, and the construction called for brass or copper, but the source of
this donated metal proved to be a source of some contention.

Exodus chapter 38:8
And he made the laver of brass, and the base thereof of brass, of the
mirrors of the serving women that did service at the door of the tent of
meeting. (JPS)

Who are these women and what are they doing at the tent's threshold and
what's with the mirrors? The Hebrew ' b'marot hatzov'ot' does not
explicitly mention women, but the verse identifies the keepers of the
mirrors as 'feminine' and 'assembled' leading to multiple translations:
"mirrors of the women who assembled," " mirrors of the ministering women
that ministered at the door of the tent of meeting.", " women who performed
tasks," "women who served at the entrance," "mirrors of the
women-work-force" or "crowds of women who crowded before the tent".
The Pseudo Jonathan delivers a curious version – covering up a bigger story:


'And he made the brazen Laver, and its foundation of brass, from the brazen
mirrors of the pious women, who, at the season, came to pray at the door of
the tabernacle of appointment, standing with their oblations, giving thanks
and confession, and returning to their husbands, the mothers of righteous
children, who had been purified from the uncleanness of their blood.'

Brazen mirrors?? What this translation alludes to is a lesser known legend,
quoted by Rashi – tracing the mirrors all the way back to Egypt, where they
served as sex toys – raising the oppressed and repressed Hebraic libido and
bumping up the population surveys: 'When their husbands were weary from the
hard labor, they would bring them food and drink, give them to eat and take
the mirrors. Each one would look into the mirror together with her husband
and tease him with words saying: "I am more beautiful than you." In the
course of this they would arouse their husbands' desire and copulate.'

Moses, according to the legend, did not want those 'brazen mirrors' in his
new tent, but the Holy One, intervened, instructing the inclusion of these
sacred objects of vanity in the very place where bodies would be sanctified
for divine service.

The Hebrew word for 'mirror' is very similar 'mar-aa' and is also related to
the Hebrew word for 'vision'. Thus, as the second book of Moses ends, amid
smoke and mirrors, the visionaries, midwives, artists and freed slaves join
to tell the hopeful tale of freedom over oppression – political, sexual,
religious and aesthetic. Just in time for Passover.

Next time you wash your hands in your bathroom sink, ponder, where in your
personal sanctuary is the erotic elevated into the sacred?

Next week – Leviticus: welcome to God's kitchen.