Parshat Metzora (Shabbat Hagadol): Greatest Last Words

 “I should have switched from Scotch to Martinis.”

“I'm bored with it all.”

“"Either that wallpaper goes or I do.” (Spoiler alert - the wallpaper wasn't changed.)

These quotes were allegedly uttered by Humphrey Bogart, Winston Churchill and Oscar Wilde respectively just before they shook off their mortal coils and entered the next world.  After everything they had contributed to cinema, politics and literature, would they really have wished to be remembered for these parting words?

Closer to home, what would you want your final words to be?

Imagine if it turned out that you were the last prophet to be included in the middle book of Tanach - Neviim/Prophets?  Preceded by the likes of giants such as Joshua, Samuel, Daniel, Isaiah and Ezekiel, which words and thoughts would be important and inspirational enough to close the book?

It's a difficult question, isn't it?  With the weight of Jewish history resting on your shoulders, who would wish to carry this burden?

The answer is the prophet Malachi.

The literal meaning of the name is "my messenger" and he seems to have prophesied during the rule of the Persian Empire, not long after the Jews returned to Jerusalem to start rebuilding the Temple under the leadership of Ezra and Nechemia.  There's only one problem, we don't know who he is.

The Talmud (Megillah 15a) states that he was none other than Mordechai of Megillat Esther fame.  Other opinions hold that he was Ezra.  A third view is that he was an anonymous prophet.  The times in which he lived were characterised by a difficult period in our history when morale was at an all-time low.  Following a familiar pattern, the Jews had strayed from the path of righteousness.  The Cohanim were not meticulous in the proper ritual involved in offering up sacrifices and the people were lax in providing their tithes.  In short, they were not displaying the respect they should have shown in their worship of Gd.  Malachi admonishes them but as the days of prophecy were drawing to a close, he knew that he had to resort to a huge morale booster to remind them of what could take place - if only they would open their hearts and minds to Gd.

In the final couple of verses, he states the following:

Malachi 3:22-24 (22) Remember the Teaching of Moshe My servant, which I commanded to him at Horev (Sinai), statutes and laws for all of Israel.  (23) Behold, I will send you Eliya the prophet before the great and terrible day of the Lord.

מלאכי ג׳:כ״ב-כ״ד (כב) זִכְר֕וּ תּוֹרַ֖ת מֹשֶׁ֣ה עַבְדִּ֑י אֲשֶׁר֩ צִוִּ֨יתִי אוֹת֤וֹ בְחֹרֵב֙ עַל־כׇּל־יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל חֻקִּ֖ים וּמִשְׁפָּטִֽים׃ (כג) הִנֵּ֤ה אָנֹכִי֙ שֹׁלֵ֣חַ לָכֶ֔ם אֵ֖ת אֵלִיָּ֣ה הַנָּבִ֑יא לִפְנֵ֗י בּ֚וֹא י֣וֹם ה' הַגָּד֖וֹל וְהַנּוֹרָֽא׃

It is this Haftorah that we have just concluded reading and it is why today is known universally as Shabbat Hagadol.  If these were my parting words, I don't think I would leave a particularly memorable legacy.  What is really happening here?

Our Sages tell us that in the year of the Exodus, the Shabbat before Yetziat Mitzrayim fell on the 10th Nissan.  This was the day that the Israelites were told to house a lamb in preparation of what was about to transpire on the following Wednesday afternoon when it would be offered up as the first Korban Pesach.  That Shabbat was also the day when they realised that the Exodus was really happening.  The Egyptians who could have attacked the Israelites for taking an animal that was one of the gods they served, did nothing to stop this happening.  They stood in amazement and it was truly a portent of the seismic events that were about to transpire.

It was therefore a 'great' Shabbat if you happened to be a member of the twelve tribes.  Five days later, following the great and awesome Seder night.  They experienced their first taste of what it meant to be liberated from slavery; to be recognised as a legitimate nation.

Pesach is the festival of freedom and from time immemorial, we have believed that when we achieve the real freedom that will come to us, this will be heralded by the appearance of Elijah at Pesach.  Malachi was therefore telling us that though times were tough and it looked as if our future was uncertain, Gd would send Elijah in the future to rescue us from the fate that would befall those nations who persecuted us - on the great and terrible day of the Lord.

The very last verse states:

And I will return the hearts of parents back to their children and the hearts of children back to their parents, lest I come and lay the earth waste.

There could be no more fitting haftorah for the Shabbat before we celebrate Pesach to inspire us to work towards bringing forth the ultimate Exodus.  A return from the Galut - the exile when the 'hearts of parents and the hearts of children will be reunited'.  It is the ultimate Geulah - redemption.

The Torah ended with the death of Moses at the edge of the Promised Land.  It was the first stage in our Exodus.  Now, Malachi tells us about the final and most glorious chapter in our history.  The one that hasn't been experienced yet.  I would say that's a pretty good way to end, wouldn't you?

Many years ago, a school friend told me (in a half-serious manner, I think...) that he was born on Shabbat Hagadol and this is why it has been so named!  A member of our community, Richard may or may not have entered this world on that day as he can't remember whether he was born on Friday morning, afternoon or evening.  If it was the latter, then he would surely be able to make this boast!

Whether it is the words of the Prophet, the anniversary of our lamb-sitting experience or even Richard’s birthday, let us take the message of the day into our hearts.

Please Gd next year, we will be able to eat of the Paschal lamb with our 'belts secured, our sandals on our feet and our staff in our hands' as we prepare for the greatest journey in our nation's history.  Next Shabbat Hagadol, let us hope and pray that we will be able to celebrate Richard's birthday in Jerusalem experiencing the glow of a Messianic future.

For when the Messiah arrives, we will not need to think of 'last words'.  Instead, we will await the arrival of our loved ones following 'Techiyat Hametim' - the resurrection of the dead.  We might then consider Steve Jobs' last words, which he said, looking at his sister Patty, "Oh wow.  Oh wow.  Oh wow".

Wishing you and your families a chag Kasher veSameach - a happy, healthy, wonderful Pesach and Shabbat Shalom. 

Parshat Tazria: Here, There and Everywhere

 

It took place in the corner of my study.  The act didn't take very long but its significance will be etched into my mind for the rest of my life.  Last Monday night, the 28^th March and the evening following the 25th Adar, I switched off the electric memorial light that has been illuminated since the 7th April, corresponding with the 25th Nissan.  The day that my mother both passed away and was later interred.

The strange vagaries of the Hebrew calendar were not lost on me.  In any other year, this action should have occurred on the exact anniversary of my mother's death.  She left us three days after Pesach but our religion dictates that one does not mourn a parent for more than a maximum of twelve lunar months.  The Talmud (Shabbat 152b) tells us that over that period of time, a person's soul (the Ruach element) ascends and descends to the body.  When these months have been completed, the Ruach rises to heaven and no longer returns (although another part of the soul, the Nefesh, stays with the body, in the grave, forever).

The passage of time is strange and ending my mourning a month early, although of course, this isn't the case, seems like a shortcut to something I feel that I don't deserve.

My servitude to honouring my mother through the Aveilut should run its full course.  Dare I move into this new state of mind?

In removing the memorial light, I started a new chapter of my life.  My official mourning was now over and I now entered a new phase of my existence which meant returning to a sense of 'normality', albeit without the physical presence of my mother.  It felt very odd to have ended my Aveilut and almost wrong.

That was until Stephnie said gently, "This is what your mother would have wanted."

I guess the Israelites might have felt something akin to this.  After hundreds of years of slavery and finding themselves in the midst of the destruction of Egypt wreaked by the plagues, this command would have left them speechless:

Exodus 12:1-2

Then the Lord spoke to Moshe and Aharon in the land of Egypt.  He said, "This month shall be to you the beginning of the months; the opening of the year, this month will be for you."

The nation was then given the instructions to take a lamb on the tenth day of the month and prepare it for what would become the night of their first seder whilst Gd enacted His final plague on the Egyptians.

And on which day were they to be given this command?

Today, Rosh Chodesh Nissan.  The very same day that a year later would see the inauguration of the Mishkan and induction of Aharon and his sons.

In our lives, moving from one phase to the next is never easy and, at times, it is extraordinarily challenging.  We need a metaphorical guard rail to hold onto, to avoid falling into the gaping hole that we fear lies beneath us.  The Torah, in describing the very first mitzvah given to the Children of Israel, is perhaps providing that security blanket.

How can you find something to grasp when the world around you is spinning?  Start by understanding the centrality of time in our lives in the guise of our calendar.

Whether or not I was ready to make that jump, from the 25th of Adar when I was an Avel, to the 26th, when this no longer applied, was immaterial.  I had no choice.  Our religion dictates that twelve calendar months Aveilut do make.  And that is it.  No more.  No less.  If Gd let us know that the importance of creating a calendar meant installing a dividing line between the bondage of Egypt and the journey to freedom, who was I was to argue?  Before the end of the plagues; before the first Seder; before the Exodus and the splitting of the sea and even before the giving of the Torah - it was the mitzvah to establish a calendar that set the path upon which we have travelled for five millennia.

Towards the end of my year, a thoughtful and caring friend did something wonderful for me.  He commissioned a lady to crochet a kippah for me with the legend 'Kan Sham Uvechol Makom  -          כאן שם ובכל מקום' which translates as 'Here, there and everywhere'.  He told me he thought of this as he knew that as I reach the first anniversary of her passing, I will wear the kippah and think about how my mother is always 'here, there and everywhere' in my life (and he knows what a Beatles' nut I am).

Time, by its very nature exists here, there and everywhere.  We live within its borders and it governs our every move.  Without it, we are rudderless.  With it, we are imprisoned.

That is why, by instructing us to establish our own calendar, Gd started off by populating it with some key dates - Pesach, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret.  We then added the rest and included in this, the idea of setting down the boundaries for what constitutes a mourning period.  And like everything else in the calendar, it too has its time.

As King Solomon wrote in Kohelet:

Everything has a moment; a time for every action beneath the sky.  There is a time for birth and a time for death...a time to weep, a time to laugh; a time for eulogy and a time for dance.

Please Gd, we will soon find a time to laugh and dance.

Shavuah Tov and Chodesh Tov