Julie R. Enszer

Pesach is my favorite holiday so to return to these mitzvot about Pesach makes me happy. Today, someone called me a obvious “drinker” which made me chuckle. I am an obvious drinker. The drinking also makes me think of Pesach, which my beloved calls a holiday “drinking game.” I know that this isn’t appropriately serious or deferential enough to religion, but this blog is not about deference or seriousness. It is about discipline and exploration. This mitzvah, stated from my source as not allowing meet of 14 Nissan Festival Offering (a long-winded way of saying Pesach) to remain until day three. Ok. That makes sense. I always wake up the next morning and clean up. It is always a moment in which I say I need to not only take off the day before Pesach begins, but also the morning after. To clean. To lie in bed and moan from my aching head. The textual basis for this mitzvah is from Deuteronomy 16:4 which says, “No leavening shall be seen with you in all your borders for seven days. Do not let the flesh that you sacrificed in the evening of the first day remain overnight until morning.” We don’t sacrifice flesh as a part of our celebrations. We do make a brisket. We make the ceremonial foods and lots of vegetables. We celebrate spring and liberation from oppression. We do not let the meat of the sacrifice remain. How many days until spring? How many days until Pesach begins?

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Jewish, mitzvah, Pesach

I am returning after an eleven month hiatus. I remind myself that the importance is not the length of time away. The importance is the return. Here it is. Leviticus 27:16 tells us, “If a man consecrates a field from his hereditary property to G-d, its endowment value shall be calculated according to the amount of seed [required to sow it], 50 silver shekels for each chomer of barley seed.” I wonder, is there anything so clear and tangible that we use today to calculate value? I don’t feel that the dollars or quarters in my pocket are as clear as a chomer of barley seed. Granted I don’t know what a chomer* is. Still it seems particularly concrete to translate a chomer of barley seed to 50 shekels. Part of the concreteness as well is the notion that it translates to land. If I were to translate 50 dollars, the meaning would be more relational. Fifty dollars to me might mean two hard-bound books. To my beloved, a large bottle of Grey Goose Vodka. To my dog, twenty-five stuffed squeaky toys. All approximately fifty dollars; all with different meaning, even I would suggest different value. Yet, what this is about is giving property to G-d and calculating an endowment value. The endowment value so interests me because I was a fundraiser for many years. What is the value of an endowment? What is the value of a legacy. Leviticus instructs of very directly. This is the part of the project that I like: there is certainty here. There are known quantities and known values. I may not believe. I may not practice the valuation of the fields - I have no field to value, no barley seeds, no shekels - but I like the certainty and the clarity for this moment. Though I feel quite certain that it will not last.

*Chomer: A measure equal to 10 ephah or 30 sa'ah (Yad, Arakhin 4:4), that is, 220 liter, 58 gallons, or 7.96 cubic feet. It is the same as the Talmudic kur (Arakhin 25a). According to tradition, the area that can be sown with one sa'ah is 2500 square cubits, half the area of the tabernacle enclosure (Eruvin 23b; Yad, Shabbath 16:3). Therefore, the area that can be sown with a chomer of grain is a square measuring 274 cubits to a side, which is 75,000 square cubits, 168,750 square feet, or 3.87 acres. (Yad, Arakhin 4:4). It is for each such measure that the evaluation is 50 shekels. This is the same as the evaluation for an adult male (27:3). Reference is here.

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Jewish, mitzvah, value

Leviticus 27:14 tells us, "If a person consecrates his house as something sacred to God, the priest shall set its endowment value according to its good and bad points. The endowment value shall then remain that which is determined by the priest." Is this only for homes that have been consecrated as something sacred to G-d? Is my home consecrated and sacred to G-d? Certainly, it is sacred to me. It is more than the walls and roof. It is more than the rooms strung together. It is, to me a sacred space. Still I wonder if it is sacred to G-d.
There are so many homes, really, I can't imagine that all are sacred. Not even all that are homes of Jews. That might just be too much for G-d to cope with. I think that this is one of the problems of the common era: unabated growth. How does G-d know what houses are sacred? How does G-d know what has been consecrated? Is G-d monitoring the endowment values set by the priests? Does she have time for all of that? Especially with the housing prices here in the states moving up and down incrementally? Why is the valuation of houses important to G-d? Last night I said it was important to me because it represented part of my wealth. I suppose that is important. I suppose that way G-d could ensure that what was due to G-d was given to G-d, but I just can't imagine the valuation of the houses and the beasts and the fields as important to G-d now. Aren't we beyond our value being determined by what we have, by what we own? Isn't our value in what we do for others? How we contribute? How we are of service?
I think that the value of my house is not thing structure itself. Not the things inside. My house is who I bring into it. What I do here that brings value to our faith, to our life, to our community. That is what should be valued. But we have no shekels, no gerah to measure that. We have no mitzvah of the priest giving value to our actions, to our service, to our spirit. That is the value that I want to know. That is the value I want to measure.

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Jewish, mitzvah, service

Perhaps this is project is my exercise in humility. When I have these breaks in writing these mitzvotim, I want to abandon the project. Forget I ever started. Then a day comes like today when I say to myself, write again. Go back. Pick up. Don't despair, just pick up the threads where you last were. This is the mitzvah that outlines the valuation of animals. We are told in Leviticus 27:11-12 that, "If it involves any unfil animal that cannot be offered as a sacrifice to G-d, the owner shall present the animal to the priest. The priest shall set the endowment value according to the animal's good and bad qualities, and its endowment valuation shall be that which is determined by the priest." The value of an animal is set by the priest, which gives an indication of how important the priest is, not only in administering the trappings of the religion, but in setting the value of the animals. I confess I watch the value of our house, which was until recently the most valuable asset that we had, nearly obsessively and am interested always in its value. I can only imagine if I had animals that reflected my wealth how they would be valued and how important that would be to me. Still I find it difficult to imagine the priest leading our spiritual life and also assessing the value of my animals. Then of course I slip into sentimentality and cannot imagine how my animals would be valued as they age. Consider my cat, now sixteen years old and recently with a penchant for peeing on our bed. Her value with her declining kidney functioning and her chronic thyroid problems compounded by the new pee problem would probably be quite low, but I cannot imagine being swayed by that. I love her. I don't want to lose her. Even though the costs are high.

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Jewish, mitzvah, beasts

I would like to say that I have been stalled in writing my mitzvotim because this mitzvah is so patently sexist. I would like to say that I have stopped because of my objections to sexism, that I have been reevaluating my time and energy commitment to this project because of this mitzvah which exposes how G-d, or at least the scribes of G-d in Leviticus, think about women. I would be lying, and I cannot do that.
I last wrote a mitzvah before I traveled to London then Kuala Lumpur then Detroit and then a nearly full week to recover from such travels. I have been tired, physically and emotionally. That is why I have not written this mitzvah, because of the human failings of my body not because of intellectual objections.
Still the objections are here. In Leviticus chapter 27, we learn of Endowment Valuations. At first, I was excited about this. As a fundraiser I know about endowments; as a person trying to be financially literate, I know about valuations of my retirement. These are neither. "G-d spoke to Moses, telling him to speak to the Israelites and say to them: [This is the law] when a person expresses a vow to donate to G-d the endowment valuation of a person. The endowment valuation of a 20 to 60 year old male shall be 50 shekels according to the sanctuary standard. For a woman, this endowment valuation shall be 30 shekels."
I object to this so deeply, I almost shake in rage and anger. Then the cynicism kicks in and I think, well at least it is more than half. A woman is worth more than half a man. I think, well, at least the Israelites knew that value of a woman at 30 shekels and they knew that it was less than a man. Today we pretend that the value is equal or comparable depending on our philosophic orientation and we ignore that great disparities in value continue to exist. Still there is something disturbing about seeing the financial disparity so baldly here.
Thirty shekels. That is my value. At least it will not decrease for nearly twenty-five years. I wonder how much I will be worth at sixty-one?

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feminism, mitzvah, value

Much snow has fallen since I wrote my last mitzvah. More than the snow, though, yesterday was the tenth Yartzeit of my sister, Lara. Her memory is a blessing. It was a day with a great confluence of events that lead to many tears. So as I sit down to write a new mitzvah, my heart is still heavy from that milestone.
In Number 19.1-9, "G-d spoke to Moses and Aaron, telling them that the following is declared to be the Torah's decree as commanded by G-d: Speak to the Israelites and have them bring you a completely red cow, which has no blemish, and which has never had a yoke on it. Give it to Eleazar the priest, and he shall have it brought outside the camp. It shall then be slaughtered in his presence." This is the cruelty that my father sought to protect us from with our Unitarian Universalist upbringing and education. I understand. How can you explain to a child with all of her wonderment in the world about creation, that G-d commands us to slaughter animals? This evening, panda obsessed, I watched the Animal Planet documentary of our panda cub at the National Zoo. I cried. It has been an emotional week, yes, but there is also something wonderful about new life, about cubhood, about the wonder of creation. I cannot understand a G-d that would want that to be slaughtered, to be sacrificed.
Still G-d commands that. He says, "Eleazar the priest shall take the blood with his finger and sprinkle it toward the Communion Tent seven times. The cow shall then be burned in Eleazar's presence. Its skin, flesh, blood and entrails must be burned."
Seven times. Why seven? One for each day of the week? For the prime number perfection that is seven? More than the number though, why must we burn this cow we have slayed? Its skin and flesh and blood and entrails. I weep for them all. I imagine what it must have smelled like to be Moses or Aaron or Ester or Leah. To have the stench of burning flesh constantly wafting beneath your nose.
"The priest shall take a piece of cedar wood, some hyssop, and some crimson wool, and throw it into the burning cow. The priest must then immerse his vestments and his body in a mikvah, and remain unclean until evening, after which he may come into the camp. The one who burns the cow must also immerse his clothing and body in a mikvah, and then remain unclean until evening. A ritually clean person shall gather up the cow's ashes, and place them outside the camp in a clean place. They shall be a keepsake for the Israelite community to be used for the sprinkling water, as a means of purification."
Oh! We are sacrificing the cow so that we have a means of purification. Perhaps this is just one of the difficulties of modernity. It is hard for me to even consider this seriously: as though we could ever be purified after what we have done, after what we have seen.
Still at my house we are burning fires every night and it is lovely. I can understand how the Israelites though that to be magical. I can understand the gathering of the cedar and hyssop and wool. Pieces to sacrifice to G-d. I can understand how it might have evolved. I can understand how the ritual came to be meaningful.
Last night, for the tenth year in a row, I sat and recited Kaddish for my sister.

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Jewish, cow, mitzvah

It is hard to think about Pesach when I am in Detroit for Thanksgiving and it is cold. Very cold. It is snowing right now. Last night, we left Maryland. It was cold, but not bitter cold. I didn't wear my coat, just chucked it in the back seat. By the time we were in the mountains of Pennsylvania, it was snowing and nearly, at one point, a white out. Here in Detroit, our neighbors in the Residence Inn are cooking greens. It is cold and snowy. My toes feel wet and cold, though they are dry. Tomorrow we'll feast and visit and visit and feast. Same for Friday. Saturday, we'll return to milder weather. I will have finished all of the embroidery in my craft bag. I will have finished a book or two. We will be three days closer to Pesach.
G-d tells us, "Eat the sacrificial meat during the night, roasted over fire. Eat it with matzah and bitter herbs." I do that. I love doing that. "Do not eat it raw or cooked in water, but only roasted over fire, including its head, its legs, and its internal organs." I don't do that. Usually, since I invite friends who are vegetarian, we include a fish dish. Often we don't even eat lamb. So many violations. Good intentions, but violations, nonetheless.
The good thing about leaving any of the festival food overnight on Korban Pesach is that according to Exodus 12:10, "Anything that is left over until morning must be burned in fire." I usually just put it in the garbage bag--it is bad after sitting out all night anyway. I scrape plates and platters into white plastic garbage bags. I throw them out. I should be burning them in fire. Fire sounds good right now, to warm my fingers and my toes. In the spring, at Pesach, it seems still appealing, but not as necessary. Perhaps this year, I will clean before bed. I am doubtful, though. I am doubtful.

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Jewish, mitzvah, Pesach

I fear that this is the condemnation of my final act of every Pesach. The abandonment of the dishes, dirty in the sink and on all of the counters. Frankly, but the time we are done with the meal, I've had a little too much to drink. Usually, I've done two or three loads of dishes already. I just don't want to wash any more. One years that I have people over for two seders, it is especially difficult because I know that I have to get the kitchen and enter house cleaned and turned for the second seder. Still, sometimes, I abandon the cleaning. Is that leaving a sacrificial portion of the Korban Pesach overnight? I fear it may be. I have no excuse, other than I am tired. I am a little inebriated. I don't want to clean my kitchen. Apparently, I am violating a mitzvah.
Exodus 23:18 tells me, "Do not allow the fat of my offering to remain overnight until morning." Do not allow the fat of my offering, perhaps since I do not have a sacrificial offering and I am just leaving the fat of the dinner on dirty plates, it doesn't count that I don't clean my kitchen after the Pesach meal. Perhaps I am not violating a mitzvah. Does it matter to me if I am? I suppose it doesn't but still I think of myself as being observant about Pesach and so learning that I am violating one of the mitzvotim about Pesach is disheartening. Still, I know the truth: I am not going to clean my kitchen after the meal. I know that I'll leave the dirty dishes in the sink. I know that I'll go to sleep before I clean on Pesach.

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Jewish, mitzvah, Pesach

There is a frenzy for me always prior to sundown on Pesach. Even though the cleaning has been done and by and large the food has all been prepared and I try to take a fifteen minute break prior to guests' arrival, it is still a frenzy. Making sure that all of the ceremonial dishes are ready. Ensuring that all of the serving tools are out and prepared for orchestrating the meal later. Lining up the bottles of wine so that it flows seamlessly. Thinking about the tunes and opening my heart for the prayers of the evening. It should be calm and reflective, but it is a frenzy.
All of this to say, what if one of my tasks in the preparation for Pesach was to slaughter a sacrifice to G-d? Exodus 23:18 tells me, "Do not sacrifice the blood of my [Pesach] offering in the presence of leavened bread." Of course, my task would not be to slaughter the sacrifice. My task, as a woman would be the prepare the meal and then sit back, silently, not participating in my of the ritual of the evening.
There are many advantages to not having to be responsible for the ritual activities to which we are commanded. This is one of them, I suppose. The other day at the grocery, I saw the matzah. I thought it would be nice to make a matzah brei and almost grabbed a box, but Pesach will be here soon enough. We will clean out the entire house of chametz and prepare the ritual dinner. It will be delicious. I love Pesach. Despite its frenzy, despite the work of preparing the meal, it is lovely.

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Jewish, mitzvah, Pesach

I've been sick for the past three days. Still on Friday I went to work; talked to people in my building, signed for a package from the UPS carrier. Today, I ventured out to the pet food store and the grocery store. I may now be past my infectious period of this cold, but maybe not. I could have passed my germs on to my building tenants, the unsuspecting UPS fellow, and countless shoppers at the grocery store (including the woman whose young son screamed non-stop for at least twenty minutes, but I hope for her sake, he does not get sick.) The point of these confessions? I have been infected with a disease agent that no one could see or detect. Certainly on Friday, when my nose was dripping the most, people might have suspected it, but still I put them at risk for infection and there is little that they could do about it. This is the consequence of communal living.

It isn't horrific as I've just had a cold. Potentially serious for someone with a compromised immune system, but in general an uncomfortable annoyance that we all get two or three times a year. Still, what if my disease were worse? How would people know that I was infected with a serious disease? What if I had leprosy? The source of this mitzvah is exactly that concern. We are told, "The leper must be distinguishable." It was interpreted to be that the hair of a person with leprosy must be shorn. The irony of this is that in the ancient times, the leper was distinguishable primarily by the disease. The skin lesions could be seen. Now we have diseases that cannot be seen and are still infectious.

What does all of this mean? I don't know. I don't understand why G-d commanded us that the leper must be made distinguishable. I don't know why the leper must shave his head. I don't know why the purification ritual is so thorough and why in a related issue there is an alternative for a poor person. (See the fourteenth chapter of Leviticus.)

Sometimes I think that writing these mitzvot raise only more questions and too few answers.

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Jewish, mitzvah, leper

I am reading the best novel that I have picked up in a while. Days of Awe by Hugh Nissenson is completely engrossing; I picked it up this afternoon and didn't want to set it down, but did because I now have less than one hundred pages left, and I want them to last. Buy it now. Read it. I don't know how it ends, but that doesn't matter. It is so beautifully written with these incredible fully drawn characters. We should all write prose like Hugh Nissenson.
(Note: I am completing this blog entry later and I know how it ends. It is beautiful and devastating and you should be reading it and not this blog!)

This mitzvah tells us that a leper must shave his head. From the fourteenth chapter of Leviticus the purification ritual of the leper continues, "The person undergoing purification shall then immerse his clothing, and the priest shall shave off all the person's hair. He shall then immerse in a mikvah and thus complete [the first part] of the purification process. He may return to the camp, but must remain outside his tent for seven days. On the seventh day, [the priest] shall shave off all [the person's] hair. His head, beard, eyebrows and other [body] hair must all be shaved off. He shall then immerse his clothing and body in a mikvah and he is clean. On the eighth day, he shall take two unblemished [male] sheep, one unblemished yearling female sheep, three-tenths of an ephah of the best grade wheat flour mixed with oil as a meal offering and one log of olive oil." This purification ritual for the leper continues in extraordinary detail, which you can read from my source here.

Although I have been objecting lately on a list-serv to characterizations about generation and age (an issue that I have felt that I have struggled with most vocally with feminists, ironically, because I guess working to end oppression based on gender doesn't bring an analysis about age and experience, I do have a comment about this mitzvah that is generational. It seems that at every age since about fourteen, someone in my life has been shaving his or her head. From a best friend in junior high who shaved and dyed to a variety of full and partial head shaving in college to now where gay male friends of mine regularly sport shaved heads as the regular "hair" style. Someday, I'll shave my head, though it probably won't be as a result of looking for fashion or rebellion or self-expression. I've always though it would occur as a result of some sort of medical treatment, either my own or solidarity with another. Perhaps it is because of this section of Leviticus which tells me that the head and beard and eyebrows and other body hair must be shaved off. Perhaps I knew about illness and I brought these bald-headed by choice people to me so that I could see how beautiful the scalp is, how gentle and soft the skin shapes around it. How sometimes we remove our hair with defiance. How sometimes we remove our hair to assert our control, to shape the experience that others have in seeing us. How sometimes we lose our hair but don't need to feel shame.

That reminds me, one of the things that I want to do with my life is be a hatter. Own a store that sells the hats that I make. I've never made hats. That's another thing that I need to learn how to do. As well as knit. I think that my hats will be knit and sewn creations. I will sell the hats. Except to lepers. I will give them to lepers and to people with bald-heads be their chosen or imposed. My hats will be colorful and beautiful hats. I've never made hats, but still I am confident that they will be colorful and beautiful. They will form to the head, whether bald or hairy, they will balance or cling, sit or conform. I want to make hats. For shaven heads. For lepers. For friends.

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leper, mitzvah, hats

In 1983, when there were newspaper articles about gay men dying from a strange form of cancer, I was thirteen years old and living in Saginaw, MI. There were only two good things about those facts. First, when I was thirteen, I had a best friend; she was not from Saginaw, MI. It was good to have a best friend; it was better than she was not from Saginaw. To my thirteen year old sensibility and understanding of the world, having a best friend who was not from Saginaw, MI was almost like a promise from this great universe that one day, I would leave. Second, Theodore Roethke was from Saginaw, MI. That fact, the fact that a famous poet was from Saginaw was another promise from the universe. In spite of these two promises, these two great hopes for my future, in 1983, there was this disturbing news in the newspapers about gay men. By 1984, people were talking about the gay disease as the new leprosy. It was the first time I thought about lepers.
Leviticus chapter 14 tells us about the purification of a leper. It begins of course, "G-d spoke to Moses, saying:" which brings me to my question of the day: how many people does G-d speak to in the Tanach? How many of them are women? That is not at all related to this question, but it is my question of late about the Torah. G-d tells Moses, "This is the law concerning the leper when he is purified and packed under the jurisdiction of the priest. The priest shall go outside the camp, where he shall examine the leper to determine that the leprous mark has healed. The priest shall then order that for the person undergoing purification there be taken two live kosher birds, a piece of cedar, some crimson wool, and a hyssop branch. The priest shall give orders that one bird be slaughtered over fresh spring water in a clay bowl. He shall then take the live bird together with a piece of cedar, the crimson wool, and the hyssop. Along with the live bird, he shall dip the other articles into the spring water mixed with the blood of the slaughtered bird. He shall then spring this mixture seven times on the person undergoing purification from the leprous curse, thus rendering him clean. he shall send the living bird away toward the fields. The person undergoing purification shall then immerse his clothing, and the priest shall shave off all the person's hair. He shall then immerse in a mikvah and thus complete the first part of the purification."
It is a long one, this process of purification from leprosy. I understand the need to separate people; to ensure that there are not greater infections. I can only imagine how frightening it was to people before they understood infectious agents. Still it took until 1987 that the virus that causes AIDS was isolated. People were treated as outcasts. Some remembered the way that lepers had been treated. Some didn't. Most didn't care.
Is there any way to cleanse from leprosy? Is there any way to cleanse from the way that we treated lepers in the modern times or the ancient times?

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Jewish, mitzvah, leper

Ah yes, separate the ox and the sheep. I wonder if Maimonides in the middle ages counting the mitzvotim was a couple short at the end? He knew that he wanted to have 613. He went back and reviewed his notes and couldn't find the missing ones and so he said, I know, let's split Deuteronomy 15.19, into two: one for the ox and one for the sheep? Does that mean there were a couple of mitzvot that were lost? It seems unlikely, but it also seems a bit like splitting hair with this negative mitzvah 114 and negative mitzvah 113.
I have written about how much I loved the sheep. Particularly seeing them at the sheep farm in Australia. I haven't had many experiences being around oxen. It is probably something that I should put on my list to experience. On that list, is the desire to have three domesticated animals: a hairless cat, a miniature horse, and a St. Bernard. Three things that I want. What three things do you want?
I will not shear a dedicated beast for the next few days. Will you?

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Jewish, mitzvah, sheep

Animals that are devoted to G-d cannot be worked; they cannot plow the land, they cannot move firewood or a household. Animals devoted to G-d cannot be shorn; their wool cannot be removed and collected for a coat or sweater. They are dedicated to G-d, or to the Temple, and cannot be made of the usual things in the world. This passage from Deuteronomy 15.19, "You must consecrate to God every male firstling born among your cattle and flocks. Do not work with your first-born ox, and do not shear your first-born sheep."
I think that this mitzvah has meeting in two ways. First, by setting aside the first born, we sanctify these animals and demonstrate that there are two elements of the world: the sacred and the daily. We learn this by sanctifying shabbat, but it carries over into every action that we have. We set some things aside to be sacred: animals, time, our bodies. We keep some things for daily. The creation of that dichotomy in itself deepens our faith and helps us to understand the difference between the divine and the daily. So in part we understand the meaning of this mitzvah through the process of observing it.
The second meaning of this mitzvah is to give first to G-d. We consecrate the firstling to G-d and do not do work with it. Why the first? I can assume that it is a result of wanting to teach people to give to G-d first; to not wait to see what else comes. It is an interesting morality lesson--give first for G-d and then for the community and then keep for the self. I believe that it is that format that creates great wealth whether it is cattle or flocks or money or property. Giving first, engenders more, but also through the act of giving we learn that we need less.
This mitzvah embodies two principles that I believe in passionately: separating the sacred and the daily and giving first to G-d/community. When I review my actions and my life, I always fall short on fulfilling these. Always. There is always more that I look at and say I should do, I need to do, I want to do. That is the reason for the mitzvotim, however, to remind me in so many different ways, how to understand G-d and the world and the meaning within it.

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Jewish, mitzvah, sacred

I have not wanted to write this mitzvah for two days. How can G-d command us to kill for the purposes of an offering? My early twenty-first century sensibility causes me to object. I live in the world where animals and birds are idolized by people and poets. Consider Mary Oliver's The Swan
Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
You can read the rest of the poem here.
So from that framework, I read this mitzvah from Leviticus 5:8-10, "He shall bring them to the priest, who shall first sacrifice the one for the sin offering. He shall gouge through its neck from the back without separating the head from the body. He shall then drain some of the blood on the side of the altar, and the rest of the blood at the altar's base. This one is the sin offering. Then he shall sacrifice the second bird as the law requires. The priest shall thus make atonement for the sin that the person committed, and he will be forgiven." How can I follow G-d's commandments to sacrifice a bird as a sin offering? The creatures which fly overhead, which rule the air? The animals that we envy for their freedom, for their flight? How can I sacrifice them? That is my first question. How could I ever make a sacrifice of a bird? Then the question is how could I ever follow these gruesome words of G-d and sacrifice the bird in a particular way? I fear I couldn't. I'll stand behind the words of Mary Oliver, behind her questions,
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?
I come to that question at least once a year. I ask myself, And have I changed my life? And I always want the answer to be yes. I always want to say yes, I have changed my life; I have figured out what beauty is for; I know how the swan pertains to everything. I hope that G-d hears those affirmative answers. I hope she understands, I cannot sacrifice the bird; I cannot sever it's head. I have changed my life.

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Jewish, mitzvah, bird

This mitzvah has the same source as the previous negative one, not to sell devoted property. According to my new book on the mitzvotim (which is enormously helpful in these circumstances where there are mitzvot that have the same source in the Torah), there were two general types of "devoted things." "One was designated for the Temple treasury, to be used exclusively for maintenance and other Temple needs. Any "devoted thing" that was not specifically allocated to the Temple treasury was considered a gift to the Kohanim and became their personal property." (Eisenberg p. 231) Things that are sacred cannot be sold. Including land. Land that has been devoted cannot be sold.
The Hebrew word translated as "devoted thing" is "cherem." I have now sat here for ten minutes trying to figure out what to say about that. I don't know what to say, but it seems significant. What are the devoted things in our lives today? What are the devoted things in my life? I don't know what I have that is devoted to the sacred. I cannot easily answer that. There are metaphorical things that I think are cherem. In some ways I find this time and space to think about these mitzvot as cherem. I devote time and energy to understanding the things that are sacred.
What is sacred to me? What could I not sell or redeem? I imagine the Israelites wandering around and dedicating their first born ox and lamb to the temple or to the Kohanim. In some ways, taxes are the thing that we cannot sell or redeem. They are not holy, but they are the collective contribution to our well-being. That is the extent of the answer that I can determine tonight.
What is holy to you? What cannot be sold or redeemed?

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mitzvah, cherem, devoted land

It is cold. We haven't turned on the furnace (and tonight for the first time, we can't--it is being replaced and will be completed tomorrow) primarily because gas prices are soaring and we want to conserve. I'd like to say that our conservation impulse is driven by concern for the environment, but the honest truth is that it is economic. Still, sitting here in my cold house--it is probably 62 degrees--I think about what it was like before central heating. Then what it was like to emerge from the mikvah without central heating.
One of the things that is nicest about a hot bath on a winter day is getting out into a heated room, slathering warmed lotion all over your dry skin and then wrapping yourself in terry cloth and sliding between cotton sheets. I fantasize about having a down robe for the winter like they sell here. That is the thing about emerging from an immersion: after being blanketed in water, I want to be blanketed in warmth. I can't imagine taking a bath in our cold house right now.
This mitzvah is another mitzvah for men. It is from Leviticus 15.16, "When a man discharges semen, he must immerse his entire body in a mikvah, and then remain unclean until evening." My joy at knowing that men's sexuality is also associated with being unclean is waning. That may be one of the impacts of writing through these mitzvotim. Though the construction of when a man discharges semen is fascinating. I wonder what it would be like to rewrite the passages from the Torah that speak to sexuality with colloquial language. This would become, "When a man comes, he must jump in a mikvah." Coming is of course a more active construction, more pleasing, more sexual. Discharging semen as though it was mechanical or accidental. I prefer the coming. Or the cumming? I don't know. What I do know is that my toes are cold and my nose and so I am going to the room with the space heater and the down comforter and waiting until tomorrow.

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Jewish, down comforter, mikvah

Is the law of the water of sprinkling related to the large lawn that we have that needs a sprinkler system? Did G-d realize that thousands of years after he set the universe in motion that we would be here, living in the United States with large yards? Did she know that we would need some instructions to limit the sprinkling of the water so that we would not fritter fresh water away on grass? Did she know that we would need some guidance about using her resources? Did she know that we would need to be told not to drench our lawns with hoses but to sprinkle gently only when needed, if at all? Did she know we would have to be told to modify our behavior?
I don't think that is what this mitzvah is about. The Torah tells me in Numbers 19.21, "One who sprinkles the purification water other than when it is done for the purification ritual must immerse both the body and the clothing. However, if she merely touches the purification water, she must immerse his body and then be unclean until evening." (As usual, I changed the gender to reflect my view of the world.) This is the mitzvah about the purification water. It seems to be telling us that we are not to sprinkle the purification water, we are to immerse the body and the clothing. If we are merely to touch the water, then we must be immersed and be unclean until evening. I continue to be put off by all of this action to purify. Then I remember, when I get out of the shower, or better yet when I have the time and the luxury to take a bath, when I emerge from either the shower or the bath, I feel purified. My body, my mind, my soul. I can only imagine what it was like for the Israelites wandering around the middle east with it's heat, its sand, its lack of air conditioning. It must have been great for them to be immersed in water. It is for me even though I do it on a daily basis and I almost take it for granted. Still there is the incredible moment of emerging, of wrapping myself in terry cloth and sliding between cotton sheets. That is purification. I can understand why people wanted a commandment to do it.
There is one sentence that begins this mitzvah, though that I eliminated from the earlier discussion. It is: This shall be to you a law for all times. I love that line. THIS SHALL BE TO YOU A LAW FOR ALL TIMES. It is another moment where I wish that I knew the Hebrew. Still I love the English translated construction. This shall be. This mitzvah, this law, this moment, this commandment, shall be. It shall be to you. I love the implied object there. To you. To me. This shall be to you a law. A commandment. A demand for action. For all times. Not just for today, not just for the next few weeks, but for all times. This shall be to you a law for all times. The law of the water of sprinkling.

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Jewish, mitzvah, water

Leviticus 27.28 says, "However, anything taboo, that a person declares to be taboo to G-d, cannot be sold or redeemed. This is true of anything he owns, whether it is a slave, an animal or his hereditary field. Everything that is taboo is holy of holies to G-d." Wow! This is a huge revelation: everything that is taboo is holy of holies to G-d.
What is taboo to you? According to the dictionary, taboo is a ban or inhibition resulting from a social custom. What is taboo to you? I cannot think of the things now that I consider taboo. What is banned to me by inhibition as a result of social custom? I don't know that there is anything that is excluded to me by social custom. Certainly, there were things that were taboo for me at one time. There was a time when it was taboo to be a lesbian. Before that there was a taboo to be a feminist. Now there are no taboos left for me around sexuality and gender. Does that mean that there is nothing from my sexuality or my gender that is holy of holies to G-d? That cannot be the case because certainly I find some of the greatest holiness that I see, that I experience, that I understand in this life to be emanating from sexuality or from gender. It must be holy of holies to G-d even though it is no longer taboo. Perhaps that is what the first part of the Torah passage means. Sexuality and gender have never been taboo to G-d. They were created by G-d for us as humans, as men and as women. We are endowed with gender and sexuality so that we may have a framework with which to experience the world.
So then what does this passage mean? Anything that is taboo to G-d cannot be sold or redeemed. What happens though if our taboos are erased? What happens when we become a society without taboos? Is that good? Is it bad? Things that are taboo to G-d cannot be sold or redeemed. What about things that are taboo to humans. Is there a difference between things that are taboo to G-d and things that are taboo to humans? Can things that are taboo to humans be sold or redeemed?
What about the taboo as the holy of holies? I have dedicated the first third of my life to eliminating the taboo. To integrating all aspects of self: sexuality and gender into one whole. To create a unified whole that is a single person in a single body. Bringing all truth into the open to make nothing taboo. I think of that as the holy of holies to G-d. It is something that I will never sell or redeem. It is a way of living that I cannot trade. We will all be transformed as we eliminate taboos.

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Jewish, mitzvah, taboo

I found a book on the 613 Mitzvot, titled, The 613 Mitzvot. Catchy, huh? The introduction had a good, though basic overview of the differences between Maimonides and Nachman. Then the author goes through each of the mitzvotim and gives the source in the Torah. It is interesting and gives me a book to hold in my hands while I do this. I like that.
This mitzvah is from the last chapter of Leviticus. Leviticus 27.33 says, "No distinction may be made between better and worse animals, and no substitutions may be made. If a substitution is made, then both [the original animal] and its replacement shall be consecrated and not redeemable." I like the expansiveness of G-d in sanctifying what is holy. She says, If you make a replacement, I will take both. There is something expansive about holiness in the equation of setting aside that which is holy and that which is held by G-d. What if that view of holiness permeated our lives on a daily basis? What if we were to say, here this is what I am setting aside for G-d on a weekly, on a daily basis? And what if when we thought that we wanted to make a substitution that the thing that we substituted became holy? This is, of course, the direct commandment of G-d. What if it expanded more? What if we said that setting something aside to make it holy in this culture, in our modern time, is an act of tolerance? What if we said that it was an act of compassion and forgiveness? What if we said that in this commandment, G-d was telling us to expand tolerance and compassion and forgiveness? What if G-d commanded us to expand holiness, not in the way of tithing cattles, but in the way of treating one another with greater compassion and honesty and truthfulness?
What if G-d told us, no distinction may be made between better and worse people? What if G-d told us, no substitutions can be made? What if G-d told us that we must live with and work with and be with the people who are around us? That they are consecrated and cannot be substituted? What if G-d wanted to expand our hearts and our minds in the tithes? What if this is what G-d is commanding us but she is using this language that made sense to the Israelites and the other tribal people hundreds and hundreds of years ago? What if G-d were to write this today? Would she say, "No distinction may be made between people. No substitutions may be made. No person is by the nature of his or herself closer to me nor father away. Actions are the only thing that brings one closer to me. If someone is not holy and consecrated for G-d, then all involved are to be consecrated and set aside as being holy and consecrated for G-d. What if that is what G-d wanted? What if she wanted to expand our compassion, our tolerance, and our forgiveness? What if she wanted us to live our lives better that we are right now at this moment? What if she wanted to expand our hearts?

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Jewish, mitzvah, holy