I'll Get a New Start, Live the Life I Should (Wharf Rat -Robert Hunter/Jerry Garcia)

There is nothing quite like the innocence of children. You know what I am talking about. Children will make a comment that is completely honest, without any malice, without any filter. Sometimes it is funny, sometimes it gives parents some food for thought. So when our youngest, our son, walked up to me on a Sunday morning, said good morning, sat I my lap while I sipped coffee and said "Abba I love sitting on your lap your belly is soft", I looked up at my wife and sheepishly smiled. My eldest daughter, who happened to be visiting from university, casually added that she wanted me to be able to walk her down the aisle at her wedding (which was not happening any time so soon). Soon it became a whole family affair as our other two daughters also commented upon my weight. There was no malice. Rather it was all quite clinical with an air of concern. I went to work and I felt quite mortal. I thought about my children's words and I realized that I am not 25 anymore. I am neither twenty five in the physical sense, the spiritual sense nor the intellectual sense. That is not to say that there were moments in the past when I felt my own mortality. I did have those feelings. However I could count them on both hands. When I became a father for the first, second, third and fourth time; I felt my own mortality. At our daughter's bat mitzvah and during our son's Bris, I felt mortal. Running around, playing tag on a California beach, looking out over the horizon and huffing and puffing; I felt mortal. When I wake up before the first signs of dawn, go downstairs, pour a cup of coffee, stretch, step outside, look up at the sky and wonder how am I going to continue afford day school, pay for college, and pay for three weddings (I still have some time for that); boy do I feel mortal! Yes, I tend to feel mortal during those moments where I feel most alive, and when I am most aware of the awesome responsibilities of fatherhood.

This week’s Torah portion is Parsha Tazria. Normally, in a non-leap year, this Parsha and next week's Parsha are seamless combined as they both focus upon the laws of Tamei/Tahor (purity and impurity). Because this year is a leap year, we only read Parsha Tazria. Tazria concentrates upon how spiritual impurity is passed between people. The majority of the Parsha focuses upon Leoprosy as it was considered to be a very contagious physical manifestation of a spiritual disease or shortcoming. Parsha Tazria puts the diagnosis, the treatment and the convalescence in spiritual terms rather than physical terms. We learn that the while this Tumah, this spiritual impurity, is present; the stricken individual cannot reside within the camp. After all, God dwells in the camp. Theologically, we cannot tolerate any impurity near God. Oddly enough, one would think that God could handle our "impurity" because God is God, God is almighty. How could impurity affect God? However the issue is not the affect of the impurity upon God per se. Rather the issue is that our spiritual impurities, any spiritual impurities would negatively affect Bnai Yisroel's ability to connect to God.

Prior to its discussion of Leoprosy, Parsha Tazria outlines the somewhat troubling laws concerning impurity in childbirth. Fundamentally, the notion of impurity relates to physical contact with the deceased. In Parsha Shemini, the Torah outlined impurities that came from dead animals. In this Parsha, we are reminded that a Mother is touched by death during the miracle of and creation of life. Isha Ki Tazria V’Yalda Zachar V’Tamah SHivat Yamim Kimei Nitdat Dotah Titmah – When a woman conceives and gives birth to a male, she shall be contaminated for a seven day period as during the days of her separation infirmity shall she be contaminated. (Lev. 12:2). Imagine becoming spiritually impure after producing a new life. Yet, this new mother lost blood - a life force. She lost some aspect her life force during the birth process. As a result, while simultaneously being touched by a new life, she is also touched by her own mortality.

Perhaps there is no more an intense moment than when a new mother, physically exhausted and spent, holds the newborn upon her chest. CHaZaL - the Chachamim Zichrono L'Vracha (the Sages of Blessed Memory) teach that surviving childbirth is an equivalent to surviving a near death experience. Therefor, reciting Birkat HaGomeil was required. (Praised are You, Lord Our God, King of the universe who graciously bestows favor upon the undeserving, even as He has bestowed favor upon me.) Inherent to surviving a near death experience is the notion that the individual as come precipitously close to death. Even in the miracle of life, we are reminded of life's fragility. Even in the miracle of life, we are reminded of our own mortality. During these moments, which for some are life altering and almost transcendent, we find a way to make that near death experience a holy experience. That is not to say that we look forward to death or that we celebrate death. Rather we are acknowledging that in the moments of coming into contact with death there is a potential to be changed by that experience. Even in death, we are reminded that we are forever striving towards elevated levels of holiness. In the most physical moments, and certainly childbirth is quite a physical endeavor, we are reminded that it is our spiritual task to elevate that physical moment into a spiritually holy moment as well.

Like many Jewish homes that celebrate Shabbat, there is a Minhag, a custom, that we observe. At the Shabbat dinner table, there is a minhag of blessing the children. The Shabbat dinner that immediately followed my children's comments concerning my weight, I felt mortal once again. As we bless our children on this Shabbat, may we be reminded that in every moment, we have the opportunity to strive towards spiritual purity, and spiritual holiness. In so doing we are striving towards our continued celebration of life and our relationship to God.

Peace,

Rav Yitz