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I was born at 5:16 PM on
the day of Erev Yom Kippur, October 4,
1946.
The parsha for
that Shabbat, Achare Mot, comes after the death of Aaron’s sons Nadav
and Avihu “who drew too close to God’s presence.” The parsha talks
of the duties of Aaron the High Priest on the holiday of Yom Kippur, the
Day of Atonement, of how he should dress and wash himself; of the
offerings he is to make to God, first for his own sins and then for the
sins of the Jewish people. It talks of offerings of incense, choice
flour mixed with oil, of bulls and the sprinkling of the blood in the
Shrine where the ark is and in the Tent of Meeting. It describes the
ceremony of the two goats where one is chosen by lots to be sacrificed
to God, and the other is to be sent out into the wilderness carrying all
the sins of the people with it.
When I
first read over the parsha, I had no idea how to relate it to my life.
All this priestly stuff and the scapegoat? I seemed to have more
questions than comments, let alone any “answers.”
Could it relate
somehow to the fact that there were Cohanim in my family, I wondered? My
great grandfather was a Cohen who served as a leader in his community in
Eastern Europe. Was this to be my connection to the parsha?
And there was
that message to be careful when approaching God. To prepare and perform
certain rituals beforehand. To have a sense of how to go about
approaching God. I wondered about Aaron’s two sons. Did they not
prepare to step into God’s presence? Did they not know how? Were they
rash and presumptuous, uneducated?
And now
their father Aaron in his pain is guided exactly on how to take his
steps into the Divine Light, what to wear and how to do it so he
doesn’t get burned. The parsha seems to be saying to me that there are
instructions for doing this. I wondered if this was part of the lesson
of this parsha for me now because for a long time I have had a yearning
to draw closer to God, to be in the Presence, God’s Holy Light.
I have been
cautious and gone about approaching God slowly, searching,
investigating. Sometimes it just happens to me, and I feel the light and
warmth of the Holy One easily. While there are other times I look and
can’t find It. It would be nice to have a guidebook.
I thought about the fact that Aaron was a priest. He served God
and the people.
How can I do that in my life?
What does it mean to serve the
people?
The community? Do I have any idea?
What “garments” do I need to wear?
What coverings?
What rituals do I need to do?
What goat do I need to let go of and send into the
wilderness?
What offerings do I need to make?
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I find these questions helpful to me right now and a focus for myself in
mid-life. They are questions that might be useful to re-ask at other
points in my life, too. Just recently I joined the steering committee of
a Jewish Renewal group in my community that’s suddenly growing.
That’s one way perhaps that I am “serving” people.
I also write and try to make
sense of things through the filter of my eyes, head, hands, soul, and to
reflect it back in my writing. I try to see the humor in life’s
events, the magic, the wisdom, the poignancy.
I’m looking at all my
questions about the parsha not so much to find answers, but to explore
what process I’m in the middle of, and what my focus could be at this
time in my life.
By looking at the parsha and asking these kinds
of questions, I realize that I AM serving the community in my own way
through my writing and by helping to build a spiritual community where I
live.
There’s also another theme in
this parsha, the letting go of the goat into the wilderness. Letting go
of sins, of past garbage that ties me down. In the days of the Temple,
we put our sins onto a goat and released him into the desert. Now we
float them down the river on crumbs of bread at tashlikh on Rosh
Hashanah. I like that idea of putting my sins onto crumbs and watching
them float away and starting over. Every year starting over with new
questions, or maybe the same ones, but with a new look at them. I think
that next year on my Hebrew birthday, I want to take this out, and look
at the parsha and my questions again and see what new meaning I can
find.
I can’t believe
that I’m 55 years old and have never “looked” at my birthday
parsha or even realized I had one. Thanks to you Reb Goldie for this
chance to explore it!
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