Fallen


Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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About a month ago, three of the Ten Republican candidates for presidency raised their hand in reply to the oddly phrased question – “Is there anyone on the stage who does not believe in evolution?" Meanwhile, the Democratic candidates confessed their ‘journeys of faith’ - especially at difficult times. Faith, creationism, and biblical defined family values are definitely on stage in the current national political arena, more than ever before with the Bible becoming much more than just a book held by those who are sworn into office. What, one wonders, do either camps do with a puzzling verse from this week’s Torah Episode that flaunts reason and describes mythic creatures that are best described as ‘giants’? Yet again, one word, lost in translation, opens up a portal to a complex narrative that challenges the assumption of what is or isn’t ‘real’.

The context: Ready to explore the Promised Land prior to conquest, the People Israel send over a delegation of spies, who, upon return, share a mixed review. 10 of the 12 give it a ‘thumbs down’: the land is good, but the indigenous people are bad news. There are, in fact, giants, waiting in Canaan. Or so, at least some English translations, while most refrain from translating the Hebrew word and retain the original - Nephilim. A closer look at this unique word unfolds a bizarre and obscure legend, where Sinai becomes the roaming ground of creatures as literally ‘fabled’ as Shrek. Well, maybe we don’t get ogres in the Torah, but an extinct species that has been identified and interpreted as either fallen angels, supermen, or aliens (!) - shows up in what biblical scholar E. Cassuto described as ‘one of the most puzzling passages in the Bible.’

The book of Wilderness, chapter 13, verse 23 describes the report of the returning spies – this is the King James Bible version:
‘And there we saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants: and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.’

The Pseudo Jonathan Aramaic translation goes a step further, attributing behavioral ways and racial origins: ‘…and all the people who are in the land are giants, masters of evil ways, of the race of the giants.’

The word ‘Nephhilim’ rarely occurs in the Bible, probably stemming from the primitive Semitic root NFL -‘to fall down’ - in a great variety of applications such as – ‘fallen’, ‘dropped’ or even ‘inferior’, or ‘aborted’.

Where have these giants fallen from? And/or is this a way of saying they are now extinct? Aborted experiments? Genesis 6:2 gives a clue – describing another mythic mystery - the union of the ‘sons of God with the daughters of men’ a union leading to a new race of hybrids – the original Nephillim. The Aramaic translation over there suggests this radical version: ‘the sons of God are the angels known as Shmachzai and Azaael, who have fallen from heaven, and descended in those days upon the earth.’ Fallen angles? They do not show up explicitly in the Torah, but do appear in the Judaic oral tradition, and by the time Christian theology comes around the myth of ‘renegade angels’ that defy God and fall down to earth becomes a very popular story. In fact, it becomes more than just a story – it becomes a way to explain evil on earth – some of us are children of Eve and Adam, but some – according to this narrative – are the children of a different and dark union, the descendents of the Nephillim, who are of the seed of bad angels.

Back to our story: Giants or angels, and according to some conspiracy theorists – aliens who ‘fell’ from the sky – are what the spies see when the view their new reality in Canaan. Either way, they are terrified – and see themselves as insignificant insects in the sight of their potential enemies. Were there real giants there? Sons of evil angels? Giant sculptures that the desert dwellers mistook for people? Or is this an exaggerated report from a group of leaders who are afraid of the future and prefer to cling to the past?
Perhaps this story reflects the way we view ‘other’ and chart our future journeys into unknown territories. When are opponents projected upon to become giant threats when perhaps all they present is simply a new paradigm?

This reminds us of the quote attributed to Bernard of Charters, a 12th century monk - ‘We are like dwarfs standing upon the shoulders of giants, and so able to see more and see farther than the ancients."

As each of us journeys towards our version of a Promised Land – who or what are the giants that await? Or are we sitting on their shoulders??

Shabbat shalom!

Big Mouth

Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

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One of the appealing built-in features of Judaic thought is that the Divine, known colloquially as God, has no corporal form: God is an idea: abstract, meta-physical, impossible for accurate depiction. Funny thing is, if you read the Torah in its original Hebrew, God is very physical: has a hand, a nose, a behind – and very clearly in this week’s Episode ‘B’halot’cha ’ – a mouth, presumably big. But you wouldn’t know this seemingly ‘pagan’ concept from any of the translations into other languages. Consistently, and for thousands of years, translators have worked hard to hide this notion of the literally oral transmission of revelation, opting for abstract terms that mask the original. More is concealed here than just a word.

The Book of ‘In the Wilderness’, chapter nine, verse twenty three, for instance, narrates the procedure by which the people Israel went about the ongoing business of wandering in the desert – this is the King James version: ‘At the commandment of the LORD they rested in the tents, and at the commandment of the LORD they journeyed…’

The word ‘commandment’ translates the original Hebrew word ‘pi’ – ‘mouth’ (pronounced like the letter ‘P’). This translation is too radical for modern translators, as, for instance the Artscroll Torah translates this as ‘According to the word’, or the Fox version is ‘By order’. The classic Aramaic translation Jonathan Ben Uzziel extends the image in a very tantalizing and complex way: ‘By the mouth of the Word of the Lord they encamped’.

How complex the business of transmitting (or translating) the sacred wisdom – so much that such a rich image is concealed to be covered up by veils and metaphors. This is a fascinating example of how evolution is so much part of theology, philosophy – and translations, each influencing the other.

The interesting thing about the word ‘pi’ is that it doesn’t only mean ‘mouth’ but also ‘edge’ as in ‘the edge of a sword’. ‘The mouth of the sword’ is not idiom that exists in English, but it does repeat, dripping with blood, throughout the Torah – and the double edge of this word’s multiple meaning was probably not lost on the original Tellers and listeners of Torah. God’s word = lethal weapon.

Oy. To soften this sharp image, the next passage in the Torah goes musical - linking the divine command not to war – but to the blast of trumpets. Chapter 10 describes how the people Israel knew when to pack and when to park - they heard the blast of two ceremonial sliver trumpets. This ancient and elaborate public-address system was conducted by the Levites who were (supposedly) signaled by Moses – who got the OK from the very mouth of God. And since you gotta use your mouth to blow a trumpet, we like to imagine that good folks of the ancient People Israel, no theolgicans, happily assumed that God sounds like a trumpet, delivering them their marching orders. It’s a stretch – but not really. Surely music, symbolized here by the trumpets, is an element that gets us going on or settling down – markers on our journeys. From shofar to Oboe and all in between - music is one of the more powerful paths we have to savor the sacred, to hear the divine.

‘pi’ as ‘word’, ‘mouth’, or ‘sword’ is merely a portal, yet another opening into a vast wilderness of wandering and wondering, which still goes on, and is to be continued…

Shabbat Shalom

Heal the Zeal

Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

By Lauviticus

Onwards thru Sinai march the twelve tribes of Israel, to each a flag, an emblem, an appointed leader. This sacred geometry, a conquering army on its way to a promised land, is described in the opening chapters of the fourth book of Torah, made complete by the presence of a unifying center: The Divine, represented by the Ark of the Covenant, the 'black box' of the people. Carrying and maintaining the ark are the hallowed members of the thirteenth tribe – Levi, taking care of business, i.e. the Tabernacle. All seems to be, literally, 'in order' in this new Mosaic theocracy on the move, but as soon as the Book of Wilderness ends its fourth chapter with a detailed description of each Levites' task list, it surprisingly leaves the serene scenes of the sacred center and goes south - right to the frayed fringes of camp, where order limps, and human messiness challenges the conceits of harmony.

Chapter 5, chanted this coming week in synagogues near you as part of the weekly Torah episode 'Naso', reports on four possible social situations that threaten the wellbeing of civilized society. Crudely translated, the four categories include lepers, criminals, monks - and 'wayward' wives. Seemingly random, these four categories reflect different deviations from the 'normal order of things' – through disease, crime, religious zeal, or sexual drive. All four suggest a possible shake-up of the delicate balance between order and chaos, culture and nature- a tension familiar to our modern societies and personal lives as it was to the reality of Moses and his often wayward people.


Our focus this week is, no surprise, the wayward and deviant – that mysterious woman: Did she or did she not have an affair? What's the story? Then there's the husband, suspicious but with no proof, having a 'fit of jealousy'. What to do? Addressing this potential soap opera, Moses, speaking for the Lord, doesn't say 'If this happens' – he says 'when this will happen'. Frank and realistic, he goes on to describe a complex procedure for alleviation of jealousy, addressing the timeless and all too human tensions between the domestic and the erotic. Analyzed through Humanistic and Feminist lenses, this weird text can certainly be seen as an intolerable, archaic relic. But, like many other biblical passages, this text has also been widely read as mythic allegory- the deviant 'feminine' representing the people Israel, the betrayed 'masculine' is Israel's God, and the lover as any of the 'other' idols, identities and foreign cultures favored so by endless generations of assimilating Jews. To read this text as literal legalism upholds a painful patriarchal reality where woman is property and sexuality merely a duty. The allegorical, mythic re-readings, on the other hand, free up some breathing space for a glimpse into deeper-than-surface implied meaning, hinting at our personal and perennial struggles with the boundaries of Eros.

The book says thus:

'Any man whose wife may stray and betray his trust…and it is a secret, and she is defiled, and there are no witnesses, and she is not apprehended - it is then that a spirit of jealousy may come over that man…' (12:14-15)



The English word 'spirit' as in 'spirit of jealousy' is based here on the Hebrew word 'Ruach' – meaning either a physical 'wind' or a metaphysical 'spirit'. Other translators choose 'fit of jealousy', 'a jealous rage', or 'jealous storm' to present this violent picture. Remember Othello? Not unlike an Opera, this imaginary husband's jealousy has larger than life proportions, possibly super human. The word 'Ruach' is loaded - appearing here and previously at the very beginning of Genesis - as the very wind or spirit of God hovering over the nascent planet.



To complicate things further - the Hebrew word used here for 'jealousy', such as that of a jealous lover or husband is 'KINAA ' the very word used in the Torah to describe religious zeal- known today as 'fundamentalism'. Even in English the words 'jealousy' and 'zealotry' come from the same Greek root – meaning 'fermentation', or 'yeast'.



The concept of a 'spirit of jealousy' as a metaphysical, fuming wind is one of the reasons this text is often read as metaphor for divine wrath, or, more significantly, as the type of zealotry assumed and experienced by men on behalf of their God. From the late Jerry Falwell to the new Al Queida forces in Lebanon, and the rising ranks of right wing Zionist rabbis in Israel - zeal as a tool of righteous anger is certainly no obscure phenomena.


So what are we to do, in this age of excessive religious zealotry, with a verse about an allegorical God who is like a jealous husband whose rage festers like rising bread?


Options include: A. avoiding this painful verse and chapter altogether, B. dismissing it as yet another archaic chauvinistic bit of judeo literary history, C. read it as mythic commentary, beckoning a redemptive closer read, or D. Listen closely to the wind as it waves the flags and penetrates the rank and file of the marching tribes; a wild wind of jealousy, zeal, passion and possible, painful, inevitable change, the product of every necessary deviation. Option E. – all of the above. Option F. - anyone??


To be continued.. Shabbat shalom.

The Wild Side

Verse per verse: The Weekly Storah

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


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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


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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.