Parshat Bechukotai: Iron and Copper

 This week's Parsha of Bechukotai has always terrified me.  It contains the first Tochecha, or warning, given by Gd to the Bnei Yisrael and is repeated in even greater detail in Parshat Ki Tavo.

Bechukotai lists forty-nine curses and tragedies which will befall the Jewish people if they fail to follow the Torah's teachings.  The number is doubled to ninety-eight in the latter Parsha.  It is no coincidence that the first warning is read shortly before Shavuot and the second a few weeks before Rosh Hashanah. 

One of the explanations given by Chazal is that the warnings are strategically placed at these times of the year to prepare us for the respective festivals.  They say that if you are given a gift you would not wish to place it into a soiled container.  As we approach the festival of Shavuot, we read the Tochacha to cleanse ourselves spiritually, so that we can receive the Torah again, aware of what could and tragically did happen when our ancestors didn't take heed of the Torah's commandments.  Similarly, as we near Rosh Hashanah, we want to end off the previous year in the knowledge that we are ready to enter the new one.

Both readings are very different and it is beyond the scope of this Drasha to list the discrepancies.  However, one verse has always particularly bothered me, not because it described a calamity, but as a result of the language used. 

The Tochacha consists of five incremental stages that the Bnei Yisrael would be subject to if they didn't follow the Torah's teachings.  This verse appears in the second section:

Leviticus 26:

(19) ...I will make your skies like iron and your earth like copper.

One of our greatest commentators, Rashi, provides the peshat (i.e.  simple) explanation of what this means by comparing it with the similar verse in the second Parsha, which states:

Deuteronomy 28:

(23) The skies above your head shall be copper and the earth under you iron.

He says that in the second tochacha, the juxtaposition of the heaven and earth being copper and iron is less severe than in the first case since copper is a metal that allows moisture to seep through.  In climactic terms, this would refer to the heavens exuding some humidity.  The earth being iron, which does not allow moisture to seep out would therefore allow its produce to benefit from this, which would not lead to a drought across the land.

In this week's parsha, if the heavens are iron, which prohibits the release of moisture the 'copper' ground will be heated up to the point that it 'sweats' and all its produce will perish resulting in a drought.  It doesn't take much imagination to know how our planet has suffered through lack of rain.

Rashi's explanation on a metaphoric level makes sense, but in practical terms, I haven’t been able to understand how this could relate to the natural world that we inhabit.

When my mother passed away last year, I found myself with the dilemma of how I would be able to manage without listening to music.  I have obviously restricted my musical intake many times observing the laws of the Omer and the three weeks which both end after a relatively short period of time.  A year spent in abstention is a different matter.  To compensate, I took out a subscription to Amazon's Audible service.  This allows me to download any book of my choice for a modest monthly fee.  This last year has been nothing short of a revelation and has proved to be extremely rewarding.  I am not even sure that I should have enjoyed my listening experience so much granted my circumstances.  From learning about Japanese Wind Phones to marvelling at the wonderful writing of a bevy of contemporary authors, it has been a truly enriching experience.  My year ended shortly before Pesach and so, as per the season, I found myself back in 'mourning mode' with the re-entry of the Omer into our lives.  It was time to consult Audible's vast library and the book that found its way into my digital audiobook collection was the recently published autobiography of Lily Ebert, the ninety-eight-year-old survivor of Auschwitz and Buchenwald.

 

 

I can honestly state that of all the books I heard over the last fourteen months, none has affected me in the same way as 'Lily's Promise'.  It has also enabled me to finally understand and appreciate the aforementioned Pasuk (and I was so moved by the book that I ended up buying a hard copy).

Lily describes the 'iron sky' of Auschwitz:

"...Then it was back out into the Lager (camp) and now the sky seemed darker, greyer.  A pall hung over everything, blocking out the sun.  Not far away was a tall chimney,  smoking furiously, with flames emerging red and bright. "

Was the sky iron or copper coloured at that moment?

"...For days already, we'd had no sleep.  And now, there was nowhere to lie down except for the bare stony ground of the Lager, the big open space between each barracks building.  Just stones, and powdery grey soil."

"One boiling hot day when we had already stood for hours like statues, always in lines of five, a sudden thunderstorm exploded above us.  It poured with rain.  On and on.  And still we had to stand there.  Immobile.  Utterly drenched, in the only clothes we had.  Never complaining.  Never saying a word."

Perhaps on that day, the sky above their heads was copper.  On others, iron.

When Lily returned to Auschwitz-Birkenau in 1988 with her daughter Esti, she described the scene:

"One of the watchtowers had been turned into an exhibit.  I climbed the steps with one group and looked out through the glass.  I was standing on the very spot where German guards used to stand watching us, night and day, machine guns in their hands.  A place I never imagined I would stand.  It was so strange to look out over such emptiness.  How powerfully I felt the emptiness.  I vividly remembered thousands and thousands of people standing there on the Appellplatz.  For hours and hours and hours.  Morning and night.  We couldn't move.  We were numb with terror.  And now there was nothing.  Nobody at all.  It was so quiet.  Peaceful, even.  Still not a single bird singing.  But how much fear and how much suffering were endured here?  How many people were killed for no reason? I thought the ground would be red from blood.  It should be red.  But it's not.  It's grey.  Even the air still seems grey from the ashes."

© Lily’s Promise: How I Survived Auschwitz and Found the Strength to Live, Lily Ebert and Dov Forman, Macmillan, 2021

 

 

The earth under them was definitely iron, was it not?

On the one hand, Lily's book has helped us appreciate the metaphor in a way that we could not have envisioned.  On the other, her description of Gd's world manipulated through the evil machinations of the Nazis into the very embodiment of hell on earth is extremely harrowing and depressing.  How can we come to terms with linking the two ideas, namely, a Divine warning in the Torah and the very real events that took place in living memory?

It would be disingenuous of me to attempt to do this, because no-one can answer the age-old question about how Gd could allow the Shoah to take place.  All we can do is try to make sense of where it fits within the long continuum that is Jewish History.  Perhaps, we can look at one of the final verses in the warning to gain a semblance of comfort:

Leviticus 26:

(42) Then will I remember My covenant with Jacob; I will remember also My covenant with Isaac, and also My covenant with Abraham; and I will remember the land.

After all of the curses and disasters that will befall our nation, Gd will not reject us.  We will survive.  Fewer in number.  Bruised and battered.  Traumatised but not vanquished.  Exactly like Lily and others like her who survived the camps, rebuilt their lives and in the process, helped to repopulate our nation.

For though the skies and the earth might be compared to copper or iron, eventually, even the strongest of metals succumbs to fatigue and cracks.  It is only then that the new shoots can break through and grow into a new plant or tree.

The Jewish people, like the moon and the seasons, might look as if they are fading away, but as long as the Torah winds its spiritual way into our minds and hearts, we can never be beaten. 

Perhaps, the iron and copper that was previously above and below us has always been embedded into our DNA and makes us indestructible!   

Shavuah Tov.  

Parshat Behar: The Other Jubilee

We are living in auspicious times.  I suspect that no adult in the United Kingdom is unaware of the event that is about to impact our lives.  Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, will be marking her Platinum Jubilee as Head of State and we, her loyal subjects, will be blessed to have a long weekend to join in the fun!

In fact, as Jews, we have an opportunity to afford ourselves even more holiday time granted that the aforementioned milestone will be celebrated over Shabbat which itself leads into Shavuot.  I think we should honour Her Majesty's extraordinary achievement by eating lots of cheesecake!

Thinking about this Jubilee more deeply, I am struck by the parallel timing of the weekend in conjunction with Shavuot.  For on that Shabbat, we will mark the completion of our seven weeks count of the Omer.  It seems to have begun such a long time ago, whilst we were enjoying our second Sedarim (or the first night of Chol Hamo'ed if you're Israeli).  It has built up gradually and has edged us slowly and excitedly towards the magnificent crescendo which we call Shavuot (which literally means 'weeks').  Its culmination on the Sunday, will mark the anniversary of our nation's very own Coronation - when the King of the Universe gave us our most precious gift, namely the Torah.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen on Sunday, 5th June 2022 corresponding with the 6th Sivan 5782, we will be marking two Jubilees - one in Heaven and the other on Earth!

Queen Elizabeth is the longest reigning monarch in the history of these isles.  Her nearest competitor in the longevity stakes is Queen Victoria at 63 years and 7 months; followed by George III (59 years and 3 months) and Henry III (circa 56 years).  The length of time that the Queen has sat on her throne is a remarkable achievement.  But, with all due respect, when it comes to Jubilees, we were there first!

In fact, the Queen and the rest of this nation might have used another term to describe her Platinum anniversary had they not anglicised a word that can be found in this week's Parsha of Behar.

 

Let us set the scene:

Hashem instructs Moshe to tell the Bnei Yisrael that when they enter Canaan:

Leviticus 25:2

 The Land shall keep a Sabbath to the Lord.

The next few verses describe the Biblically mandated commandment of Shmittah:

Leviticus 25:3-9

For six years you may plant your fields, prune your vineyards and harvest its’ crops.

But the seventh year shall be to the land a Sabbath of complete rest, a Sabbath to the Lord: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyards.  You shall not harvest what grows of itself or gather the grapes of your unpruned vineyard; it is a year of rest for the land.  You may eat the land's Sabbath yield: you, your male and female servants and the hired worker and resident workers who live with you, your livestock and the wild animals in your land - whatever the land produces is there to be eaten. (ie, Shmita produce is ownerless and free for use by anyone, but can’t be sold).

And you shall count off seven Sabbaths of years—seven times seven years—so that the seven Sabbath cycles total forty-nine years.  Then you shall sound the ram's horn.  On the tenth day of the seventh month on the Day of Atonement, you shall sound the horn across your land.

What happens after Yom Kippur? The Torah informs us that:

Leviticus 25:10 You shall consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants.  This shall be your Jubilee...

ויקרא כ״ה:י׳ (י) וְקִדַּשְׁתֶּ֗ם אֵ֣ת שְׁנַ֤ת הַחֲמִשִּׁים֙ שָׁנָ֔ה וּקְרָאתֶ֥ם דְּר֛וֹר בָּאָ֖רֶץ לְכׇל־יֹשְׁבֶ֑יהָ יוֹבֵ֥ל הִוא֙ תִּהְיֶ֣ה לָכֶ֔ם...

The word 'Jubilee' is the direct equivalent of the Hebrew word 'Yovel'.

In reading the above, you may have felt a sense of deja-vu, in terms of the language used to describe the period of seven years. 

Did we not read the following last week?

Leviticus 23:15-17

And from the day on which you bring the sheaf of the wave offering (i.e.  the Omer)—the day after the day of rest—you shall count for yourselves seven complete weeks.  To the day after the seventh week, you shall count fifty days; then you shall present a grain offering to the Lord...on that day, you shall make a proclamation; it shall be a sacred assembly for you; you shall perform no laborious work.

Let me bring the varying strands together.

Seven weeks of seven days are followed by the fiftieth day, the festival we know as Shavuot.

Seven years of seven Shmittah cycles which were followed by the fiftieth year, which the Torah refers to as the Yovel.  In fact, as we commemorate Her Majesty's Jubilee, we are now living through a Shmittah year but these days we don’t know when to celebrate the Yovel. 

The Queen's Platinum Jubilee is, without a doubt, going to be a very special event if we recall how previous Jubilees were celebrated.  I am old enough to remember the Silver Jubilee in 1977 and both the Golden and Diamond ones in 1982 and 2012 respectively.  They were simply magnificent.  Who could forget the events of ten years ago, particularly the extraordinary flotilla up the River Thames (our local waterway!)? Yes, it rained and we marvelled at how both the Queen and the late Duke of Edinburgh braved the inclement weather, despite their ages and frailty, but those ships were something to behold, were they not?

And then what happened after the ceremonies were over, the glorious street parties ended and the chintzy memorial plates, coins and spoons were stored away? Not a great deal.  We relived our memories in late December watching the BBC's review of the year and promised ourselves that we would never forget the grandeur of the occasion, but life just went on. 

People were born and died, homes were bought and sold, seasons came and went and before we knew it, another decade had ended.  Remember that there was life before Covid!  We hoped and prayed that the Queen and her Escort would live long enough to allow us to recreate those feel-good moments in the future.  Sadly, this year, the Queen alone has been able to reach this milestone.  The people in the United Kingdom have experienced a great deal since those heady days just before the London Olympics.

And that is where the two Jubilees part ways. 

The Torah tells us that the Yovel year will leave a much greater impact on the inhabitants of the Land of Israel:

Leviticus 25:23

And the land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is Mine; you are merely migrants, visitors to Me.

Leviticus 25:39-43

If your brother becomes poor and sells himself to you, do not work him as a slave.  He shall abide with you like a hired worker or a resident worker and work for you until the Jubilee year.  Then he and his children, shall be free to leave you and return to their family and ancestral land—For they are My servants, whom I brought out of Egypt; they cannot be sold as slaves.— Do not rule them harshly with heart-breaking labour; fear your God.

Rabbi Sacks ztl in the last book published during his lifetime, ‘Judaism's Life Changing Ideas’ wrote the following regarding the laws of the Yovel year:

The Torah is making a radical point.  There is no such thing as absolute ownership.  There is to be no freehold in the land of Israel because the land belongs ultimately to Gd.  Nor may an Israelite own another Israelite because we all belong to Gd and have done so ever since he brought our ancestors out of slavery in Egypt.

To the Jewish people, the Yovel wasn’t just another Jubilee.  It wasn’t an occasion to break out the finest China and bunting and hold a street party.  It was an opportunity to remind ourselves of how precious freedom is.  How land is but a commodity that can be bought and sold.  At the end of the day, our lives mean so much more when we are able to live them amongst the people we love, in the bosom of our families.  It was an opportunity to spend an entire year readjusting to the kind of life that we thought we could never experience again.  This is what the Jubilee really entailed. 

At this moment in time, we don’t know exactly when to celebrate the Yovel because the last recorded celebration occurred 150 years before the destruction of the first Beit Hamikdash.  The Rambam wrote that a Yovel would only take place with the arrival of the Moshiach when all of the Jews would be living again in the land of Israel.

Until then, we will have to make do with Coronation Chicken over Shabbat and Cheesecakes on Sunday and Monday.

In the words of our prayers regarding the Queen:

"In her days and in ours May our Heavenly Father spread the tabernacle of peace over all the dwellers on earth and may the redeemer come to Zion; and let us say Amen.”

Shavuah Tov.

Parshat Acharei Mot: The Olive Tree

 

In loving memory of my mother, Bryna Rouge bat Yechiel ah

Last week, Stephnie and I visited a very dear friend of mine who lives with her husband and two daughters in Bet Shemesh.  We have known each other since we were teenagers which, without giving away our respective ages, is a long time.

The family lives near some green belt land and at the top of an adjacent hill lies the monastery of Bet Jamal.  The name of the area seems to be derived from the ancient burial ground of Rabban Gamliel I who was the head of the Sanhedrin. 

During a pleasant tea on their front lawn, the four of us discussed hiking up the hill to a mysterious 'olive tree' that they wanted me to view.

My friend’s husband and I proceeded to make our way through a field and then up the incline to our destination.  As we approached the tree and were about to reach it, he asked me to close my eyes before entering the clearing it occupied.

I have to say that I was intrigued.  What could be so special that required such a move?  I dutifully complied and after leading me by the hand for a few minutes, he asked me to open my eyes.  The sight that greeted me was quite overwhelming.

There, standing before us was an olive tree that has been reckoned to be more than two thousand years old.  It has a circumference of over 8 metres (25 feet) and twisted roots that snake around the tree deep into the ground below.  It is truly a marvel to behold, as you can see from the picture below.  Words cannot describe its presence and form.  It was simply breathtaking.

We both looked at the tree and marvelled at its structure and age.  How much has it seen in two millennia?  Has it acted as a hideaway for our ancestors in a land that has seen so many conquerors?  Has it survived a multitude of brush fires that threatened its very existence?  We noticed that a fungus was growing on some of its bark, yet it was managing to heal itself.

My new hiking partner explained how inspired he becomes each time he encounters 'his tree' and the reaction of those he takes along to pay a visit.  You know when you are in the vicinity of greatness and this tree was simply magnificent.

I found it difficult to tear myself away from the spectacle.  As we descended the hill, we looked at the beautiful vista which took in the different neighbourhoods of Bet Shemesh.  Halfway down, we paused to daven Mincha whilst viewing the rapidly setting sun.

On our way back, he told me about his parents and how his mother had been a survivor of Bergen Belsen.  I shared my own family history and noted that his wife was also the daughter of a hidden child who had been saved in occupied France. 

Last week witnessed both the first Yartzheit of my dear mother on Tuesday and Yom Hashoah on Thursday - the day in our calendar when we remember those of our nation whose lives were stolen and whose relatives were uprooted.  Hundreds and thousands of years of history were wiped out in the blink of an eye.  Millions of human trees were torn from their deep roots, never to be seen again.

And all the while, this olive tree stood stoically and witnessed from afar the catastrophe that was taking place.  Another incomprehensible event in the span of its gargantuan lifetime.  Perhaps it cried tears by shedding its leaves.  Perhaps it felt that the people it had seen exiled two thousand years ago would never return.  Perhaps it just hoped to cling onto its own dear life by extending its roots even deeper into the shaky ground that had been its home for longer than the lifetime of any human being.

Two thousand years after the people who might have planted it had perished, their descendants whose own families had been cut down, returned to marvel at its resilience and refusal to be defeated.  My friend, her husband and I are living, embodiments of the second generation who have survived the Shoah.  She is Israeli, he is Australian and I am British.  Three wandering Jews and a tree which has never left its place of origin.  Is that not a description of what is means to be a Jew?

The olive tree, whose outstretched roots allowed us to sit in its lap reminded us that it was one of us.  There have been many who would have liked to wrench our roots out of the spiritual soil that has kept us alive since Avraham set up his tent in ancient Canaan.  They have never succeeded. 

For we are like that old tree.  The more you tug at our leaves, the more we dig our heels in.  Perhaps that ancient tree is the perfect metaphor of what it means to be a Jew. 

Long may it continue to flourish.

Shavua Tov.

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

Parshat Shemini: The List

"It's on the list".

I remember the first time I heard that statement.  It was in the mid to late 1970s and I was standing in the playground of my Jewish primary school in the heart of Golders Green.  One of the children had uttered this cryptic message to another child.  At the time, I had no idea what this 'list' was.  Occasionally, my friends would claim that some item of food was either 'on the list' or off it.

I was brought up in a traditional home where we ate kosher and observed Shabbat.  My mother didn't cover her hair but neither did the majority of her friends whose kids also attended the same school.  One of the ways we could tell how 'frum' a classmate was by observing the mothers in their sheitls (or not for that matter) coming to pick them up at the end of school.

These were the days before the glossy ‘Really Jewish Food Guide’ and its companion ‘Is it Kosher?’ app existed.  In my childhood era, the 'list' was literally a sheet or two of paper that those in the know could acquire from specific locations such as Jewish bookshops.

When I reflect on those times, I remember how scrupulous my friends were when checking the 'list'.  If it was ‘on’, the food was permitted, if not, they kept well away.  I think I may have seen it a few times when visiting a mate over Shabbat but that was as close as I got to the treasured and rare manuscript.

With the transformation of the list into a book form, a new game began for us newbies.  I would peruse its contents to see what I could and could not eat.  Every time an update was published (in the days before email), I would carefully look through the book and either add the newly qualified products to an existing line or sadly add a bolded 'NK - not Kosher' label in front of previously approved entries.  It always seemed to be the chocolate bars that ended up being dropped!

I distinctly remember the first few editions of the aforementioned guide which came out when I was in my late teens.  Suddenly, the 'list' was available and soon became ubiquitous in our homes.  The science and complexities involved in the production of food now made more sense and the bizarre E471 and E120 codes were to be avoided at all costs (especially the latter as it signified the product contained cochineal, otherwise known as ants' blood.  Yeuch!

What had started life as a list was now presented as a thin tome that could sit comfortably in my mother’s car glove compartment or on a bookshelf.

On the flip side, every now and then, a product I had chalished (longed) for eons ended up being relisted.  I can't really describe the thrill I got, and still do, when something I really wanted to eat re-joined my special ‘kosher club’.  Bounty used to be kosher and then it wasn't and then it was!  Sun-Pat Peanut Butter took the same trajectory...and I won't even mention the ongoing saga of Marmite!

In the last few years though, something has happened that makes certain product addition to the lists more and more exciting.  Whereas in the past, I was only aware of the KLBD's efforts to make the edible world as open as possible (in conjunction with American Kashrut Authorities such as the OU and Star-K), their previous virtual monopoly on deciding what we can and cannot eat has been challenged by an exciting new horse in the race.

I give an extremely warm welcome to the Sephardi Kashrut Authority, otherwise known as the SKA!

I have a personal debt of gratitude to the Spanish and Portuguese Community,not only because I received my Semicha through their network via the Montefiore Endowment, but also because they really opened up the kosher world in a way that would have been unthinkable two decades ago.  Dayan Amor (ztl), who was the Rosh Bet Din and head of my Kollel, certified Kingsmill Bread.  The KLBD followed suit a few years later by certifying other companies that manufactured bread such as Hovis and Warburtons.  Need I say more?

For the kosher consumers such as myself, that mysterious list had borne fruit that I could have never envisioned back in the day.  As of writing, I am rubbing my eyes in disbelief in the knowledge that a few feet away from me, numerous packets of specifically labelled and certified McVities biscuits are waiting to be consumed.  McVities biscuits I'll have you know!

In considering the 'list', I should have realised that the origins of the document I had thought to be secretly available to a chosen few was in fact exceedingly old.

It was based on another detailed list - the one we read in this week's Parsha which described the animals, fish and birds that we are and are not permitted to consume.

What differentiates its contents lies in the lack of specific detail.  Unlike the aforementioned lists, the Torah's description provides limited information about what makes an animal or fish kosher.  Ruminant animals with completely split hooves, check.  Fish with fins and scales, check.  Any type of pig meat being prohibited, check.  Shellfish are out, check.  Certain types of locusts, crickets and grasshoppers, check (they may be kosher, but I'll pass on them, thank you).

No mention of mono-diglycerides of fatty acids, stearates, polysorbates or gelatine in the Torah or references to E120, E422, E570 et al.

It seems as though, just like the Torah's list of what was permitted or prohibited, the manufacture, preparation and consumption of food was much easier in the day.  You couldn't boil a kid in its mother's milk, but that didn't prevent the consumption of steak tartare in cheese sauce either.  Our Rabbis wisely put paid to this dish when they forbade the mixing of meat and dairy in all of its forms.

Compared to the recently published Kashrut Guide, the 1970s list was considerably more compact.  The times they are forever a-changin'! I have no idea what our lists will include in a decade's time and, like us, they are constantly being updated to fit the times in which they are being consulted.

I fervently look forward to their contents...and with that in mind, hope that they will at least include the standard size of Marmite!

Shabbat Shalom.