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his week’s Torah portion, Chukat, begins with a very surreal law: that of the red heifer. The red heifer was a completely red cow, without even a hair of a different colour. In ancient Judaism, when a person came in contact with a corpse or the carcass of an animal, he or she was considered impure and had to go outside of the Israelite camp. So the Torah tells us that we have to take the red cow and burn it with cedar wood, hyssop and scarlet yarn. You would then take the ashes, mix them with water, and sprinkle this yummy concoction on those who were impure to make them pure again. Sounds a bit like hocus pocus right? It doesn’t make a lot of sense does it? The rabbis tell us that this law was one that indeed did not make a lot of sense – even King Solomon, who was believed to be the wisest person in the whole world, scratched his head trying to figure out what this was all about. But that was the whole idea behind it – you had to follow the ritual of the red heifer simply because God commanded, without understanding, out of blind faith.
Furthermore, when the Torah speaks about the red heifer, it says “zot chukkat haTorah”- this is the law of the Torah. This one in particular is the law of the Torah. With 613 different commandments out there, why is this one being singled out? The Beit HaLevy, a traditional Orthodox commentator from Lithuania, says that the Torah calls this single commandment the Law of Torah because, just like the red heifer can never really be understood, so too all of the commandments must be followed not because we understand them, but rather because God commanded them. We do them because we are told. This seems rather at odds with our own Progressive Judaism, where we decide to follow the ritual commandments not by force, but rather out of choice – when mitzvoth speak to us, when they make sense to our minds and to our hearts.
I thought about how this compares to the ancient Bar Mitzvah ceremony. At 13, the child became an adult and therefore had to follow all the commandments regardless. He became a Bar Mitzvah – the Son of the Mitzvah. He didn’t always have to understand the new laws he was obligated to fulfill – he simply had to follow them. The Bar Mitzvah then had to prepare the whole Torah portion and lead most of the service, without really knowing what was going on. When Progressive Judaism started 200 years ago this year, it sought to change the Bar Mitzvah ceremony. A leader of the new movement, Maimon Fraenkel, wrote an important essay in 1810 asking for change. He said as follows: “It is customary amongst practically all peoples to introduce a young man through special celebrations to his religious majority and to his participation in religious rites. Amongst Jews this takes place at the time of the thirteenth birthday. Solemnity undoubtedly makes a strong impression upon the person, and especially in the moment when the young citizen moves from the lower sphere of childhood into the higher realm of youth and is introduced to life’s seriousness. At such a time a clear conception of the future and the intimate touch of pure goodness will impress the stamp upon his moral character. But what kind of result can an indifferent ceremony have which leaves the heart cold and the spirit uninvolved?” In other words – as we become adults, we really need to be inspired, to connect both mentally and emotionally to a tradition that will strengthen us with a sense of ethics and spirituality throughout life. We no longer can do this simply because we are told. The old Bar Mitzvah ceremony simply wasn’t achieving this sense of connection, it did not move you. So it was perhaps the time to come up with a more meaningful celebration – the confirmation, or Kabbalat Torah. On top of that, the Bar Mitzvah ceremony was only done for boys – girls were left on the side. When speaking of the reasons behind introducing Kabbalat Torah, another early Progressive rabbi, Kaufmann Kohler said that we needed to do so because “Reform Judaism recognises woman as man’s equal.” So Progressive Judaism did away with the Bar Mitzvah in favour of a ceremony that would be more meaningful and egalitarian.
Through the years, Progressive Judaism brought back the Bar Mitzvah and added the Bat Mitzvah for the sake of equality. At NPLS we have tried to make the Bar and Bat Mitzvah ceremony significant, and for this reason conduct study sessions throughout the year. But still, often we celebrate our Bar and Bat Mitzvah simply because our parents want us to. And also, throughout the year of preparation, our focus turns to reading the Torah, the Haftarah, and writing a nice sermon. There isn’t a lot of time for us to focus on what this celebration really means to us. KT is totally different. During our Bar and Bat Mitzvah we make a commitment to lead a Jewish life. At KT we demonstrate that we have lived up to that commitment. In our Bar and Bat Mitzvah we read from the scroll of our Torah. Throughout the KT year we come to understand the Torah’s underlying message. The Bar and Bat Mitzvah is a celebration in our personal life and the life of our family. KT we do as a group, showing our commitment to our community as whole and to becoming the next generation of the Jewish people.
The Torah section we read as a group today is closely connected to our KT celebration. The Israelites had a well in the desert whose water came by the merit of Miriam. When Miriam passed away, the well dried out, but the waters later came back through the merit of both Moses and his brother Aaron (Babylonian Talmud Taanit 9a). When Aaron died, the well continued now solely through the merit of Moses. In the final section, we read about a song the Israelites sang thankful for the well and for its waters. The Torah has been compared to water, and by extension to the whole of Jewish tradition: it gives us life, and we can’t do without it. Our Torah portion teaches us about the continuity of Judaism. The waters of the well never dried up for good – they were passed from Miriam to Aaron to Moses. We carry the waters from generation to generation. Water itself can never be destroyed. It changes state, from liquid, to gas, to solid – but it is always water. Our Judaism can also have different shapes and forms, Judaism might mean different things to each of us, but it will always be a force to inspire us. We can also learn a lot from the characters who gave us the water. Miriam was a social activist: she fought hard to avert Pharaoh’s unjust decrees and saved the Israelite children from Pharaoh’s plan to kill them all. She was also an artist, leading the Israelite women in song and dance with her tambourine. Aaron was a priest, devoting his life to ritual and prayer. Moses was a teacher, dedicated to the study of Torah. The three of them, in their different approaches to Judaism, could pass the water down. So too, we can transmit our Judaism in the different ways that speak to us: either by connecting to social justice or to Jewish culture like Miriam, by connecting to Jewish prayer, ritual and celebration like Aaron, or by connecting to Jewish learning like Moses. It doesn’t matter what type of Judaism we commit to and hand down: what matters is that we find our voice within Judaism.
Today, as we celebrate Kabbalat Torah, I hope that it will be a commitment of your hearts and minds that you will continue to celebrate your Jewishness, and pass it down to the generations that will follow. For this past year you have worked hard to affirm your commitment to our people. You have explored Jewish learning, prayer, traditions, culture, and social action: all different ways by which we live Jewishly. I hope that your engagement will not end with this ceremony today, but rather that it will continue throughout your life. May you always be able to draw from the well of Judaism for inspiration and to quench you when faced with life’s uncertainties, and together may you lead our people into our future.
Mazel Tov – we are all so proud of you!
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