The Torah of Complaining : An Anatomy of Tuma

"If statistics are right, the Jews constitute but one percent of the human race. It suggests a nebulous dim puff of stardust lost in the blaze of the Milky way. Properly, the Jew ought hardly to be heard of, but he is heard of, has always been heard of. He is as prominent on the planet as any other people, and his commercial importance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness of his bulk. His contributions to the world's list of great names in literature, science, music, finance, medicine, and abstruse learning are also away out of proportion to the weakness of his numbers. He has made a marvelous fight in this world, in all the ages; and had done it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself, and be excused for it. The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Roman followed, and made a vast noise, and they are gone. Other peoples have sprung up and held their torch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished. The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is now what he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, no weakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of his alert and aggressive mind. All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?" Mark Twain "Concerning the Jews"

The deepest secret in the world is the secret of why the Jewish people have survived.

In the Jewish lexicon, the term "victory" has come to mean "endurance."

Because the Jewish people lost all the "games" - we lost the "game" with the Romans and we lost the "game" with the Egyptians - we redefined the meaning of the word Netzach from "victory" to "endurance."

Often the Jewish experience of suffering is so overwhelming, it is difficult to understand how we hold on and continue. How could the Rebbe of Piasezna, sitting in the Warsaw Ghetto, not be overwhelmed by reactivity? How could he remain conscious of God and experience the suffering of the Jewish people as a revelation of God?

In opposition to the God-consciousness of the Piasezna Rebbe, the Rasha - contrary child is also the sleeping child, because reactivity is associated with unconsciousness. The contrary child is reactive because he is consumed by the outside world and unconscious of his own inner life.

The Piasezna Rebbe, on the other hand, was able to see God in the ashes. In his commentary on Parshat VaEra (1942), where he discusses the significance of the Magrefa/ashes shovel in the Holy Temple, he contemplates the paradox of harchacha - distancing as a way of connecting with Hashem. This idea of revelation and connectedness in separation is a recurring theme in the Esh Kodesh.

The Mei Hashiloach also looks closely the issue of distancing, and its connection to Sephirat HaOmer - in his commentary on Parshat Emor.

The movement from reactivity and unconsciousness to consciousness incorporates changing the Ayin of Emor into the aleph of Omer. The Ayin (the number 70) which symbolizes the reactivity becomes the Aleph, which is the embodiment of paradox. In the shape of the letter Aleph, one yad/hand reaches up to heaven and one yad/hand stretches down to earth.

In this context, counting the Omer (moving from Ayin to Alef) becomes a critical Mitzvah, and the idea of Tuma becomes a critical idea, where Tuma, as blockage, is identified as part of the movement towards consciousness.

In order to come to awareness, we have to be aware of Tuma.

In this context, Tuma is not bad, it is not evil. Instead, it represents the identification of a blockage that opens us to the process of clearing.

Just as the Hebrew word Nes provides us simultaneously with different approaches to consciousness, so does the word (and letter) Shin. Nes can mean test, miracle, banner and flee, and Shin can mean sleep, repeat, change and learn. From these multiple meanings of the word Shin, we get the idea of "innovative repetition", which is one of the foundations of Jewish prayer and scholarship.

One of the attributes of Tuma is that the greater the potential for Kedusha/holiness, the greater the potential for Tuma. And so, sexuality, language and food are all subject to Tuma because they have a high potential for sanctity. If the food in the Beit Hamikdash was found to be Tame, the priest was required to stop what he was doing immediately, and distance himself. Tuma in marriage is the distancing of Nida. Tuma in language is slander and blasphemy, and the consequence of both of these, according to the Torah, is distancing.

The consequence of Tuma is distancing. In the Torah, when Miriam is affected by Tuma, she has to go outside the camp (Numbers 12:14-15). Yet Miriam's response to distancing is difference from that of the blasphemer (Leviticus 24:10-12), because Miriam accepts the distancing without complaint.

In his commentary on Parshat Emor, the Mei Hashiloach shows that the real test of a person is in how he or she responds to being distanced.

Distancing per se is not the test. The test is in how we respond to it. The first section of Parshat Emor details what can distance the priest from his avoda/service.

The Mei Hashiloach (Section B, first Torah) interprets the passuk "He [the High Priest] shall take a virgin for his wife" (Leviticus 21;13) to mean, in all instances, the High Priest must receive from the source. In every instance, Hashem shows him new things from the very source, and so in every repetition of his davening, the High Priest introduces something new.

Here, the Mei Hashiloach is addressing the issue of innovative repetition, understood above in the multiple meanings of "shin."

The Jewish people are commanded by Halacha to make each prayer new. The Gemara says if a person davens as if he is hauling a stone up a mountain, for the sole purpose of getting it off his back, then his prayer amounts to nothing, and he has not fulfilled his obligation to daven. And yet, most people find it very difficult to understand how they can say the same thing over and over, and also make it new each time.

We live in a culture of fear of boredom, so there is a constant emphasis on newness, until even the newness becomes boring.

Contrary to the culture in which we live, Judaism emphasizes the importance of review and repetition. The Talmudic sage Reish Lakish would learn the Mishna forty times before learning with his Chevruta, Rebbe Yochanan, because he understood that human beings are creatures of habit and need the structure and the safety of repetition. (Hence the tremendous power of the repetitive icon of Coca Cola in the modern world). And yet, within the structure of the repetition, we need to find something new.

In his commentary on Parshat Emor, the Ishbitzer compares having sexual relations with a virgin with davening, paralleling the idea of innovative repetition in sexual relations within a marriage with a continuous sense of newness in repetitive davening. Both are concerned with how to make something that is repetitive, innovative.

Learning, which involves repetition (mishna means "to repeat") also means change (shinui/leshanot). This is often a difficult concept for people to grasp, as its runs counter to the culture we live in, which promotes the idea of something new every nano-second. We live in a culture of rapid change, yet our tradition, and the Hebrew language, teaches that change and repetition go together.

In a later Torah on Parshat Emor, the Ishbitzer teaches that all redemptions are tied into the Omer process, making the counting of the Omer the core of hope in the world.

Freedom is a very difficult concept to define. Many people today define freedom as the ability to act according to their own choices. The Hebrew term Herut Olam can be understood two ways - as "world freedom" and as "hidden engraving." The Jewish understanding of freedom incorporates both these concepts. From a Jewish perspective, freedom, or Yetziah Mizrayim (coming out of narrow places) is a two-part process corresponding to the two part process of Pessach preparation - Bedikat Hametz (uncovering the places in our personalities that have soured) and Bitul Hametz (disposing of this rigidity). First we need to express the complaint. The Matriarch Rachel weeping for her children personifies this expression of complaint. Then we need to release the complaint. This part of the process is modeled by Hannah, who evolved from a state of paralyzing bitterness to being able to pray for a son she was not going to keep.

The Ishbitzer notes that just as there are four redemptions, the word Emet/truth appears four times in davening between the end of the Shema and the beginning of Ezrat Avotenu. Though this, all four exiles, or distancings, are illuminated by God's light, showing us the journey from exile to redemption, and why we need to go down to go up. This illumination comes about through the counting of the Omer, which helps us to understand the world by developing our Binah/intuition. Sechel/intellect cannot understand the concept of harchacha/distancing. The whole concept of exile can only be grasped through non-linear intuitive understanding.

When Miriam is sent out from the camp, she doesn't complain, and through this she models for us how to learn from the experience of exile.

The Matriarch Rachel also teaches us about exile and distancing. In Jewish symbology, Rachel - who is still crying for her children - represents the unmitigated pain of exile. (One of the puzzling things about Rachel is that the idols she stole from her father, killed her. This is true in the literal sense, as when Laban confronts Jacob about the theft of his idols, Jacob replies, "If you find your gods with anyone here, let him not live." Genesis 31:32. It is also true metaphorically, as Rachel's external beauty is worshipped by Jacob the way a person worships an idol.) Rachel's complaints, her crying over the exile are an important part of the process of the redemption of the Jewish people.

The Gemara (Avoda Zara 3a) teaches that at the time of the final redemption all the nations of the world will go into the Succah of Leviathan, where they will be tested, as Hashem will increase the heat of the sun. The unworthy, unable to bear the heat and to trust in the final redemption, will leave the Succah, kicking it on their way out.

Being able to take the heat - in how we respond to distancing - is the litmus test of the human being. The Jewish response to distancing and exile is Netzach/endurance, which is the secret of why we are still here. Without this ability to respond positively to distancing, our first exile would have been our last. If we simply reacted and submerged ourselves in complaints we would have given up and walked away. By acknowledging the distancing as critical to the discovery of Tuma/blockage, we are able to value it as part of the process of redemption. The positive aspect of distancing is its potential for creating newness in repetition. When a married couple comes together the fact of distancing can make a repetitive act feel new each time.

One of the great things that distinguishes the Piasezna Rebbe, author of the Esh Kodesh is that even in the Warsaw Ghetto he knew that everything the Jewish people were undergoing was an awesome revelation of Hashem's light. He was able to experience distancing and exile as a gift from God and a source of revelation.

Counting the Omer is the act of acknowledging and appreciating distancing as a revelation of God and part of the process of transformation from slavery to freedom, exile to redemption.

In Mei Hashiloach (First section, Parshat Emor), we learn that the five sections leading up to the sections on the festivals in Parshat Emor correspond to five levels of complaint that can be found in the heart of a human being.

The first level is the complaint that comes from death and loss in the world. This corresponds to the Priestly Laws, (Leviticus 21:1-15), where each level of Tuma that disqualifies a Priest from avoda/worship is an essential lesson in how people complain about God in the world. Death and loss are a major source of those complaints.

The second passage (Ibid 16-24) discusses the physical defects that disqualify a Priest from Avoda/service, which give rise to complaints about God-given defects that distance a priest and prevent him from entering high level of kedusha/holiness attained by eating the food offerings. This is the complaint of one who is physically disadvantaged.

The third passage (Ibid 22:1-16), on priests rendered impure by leprous marks or male discharges gives rise to the complaint of one who has made every effort to remain pure, and who is distanced by an accident - something he could not control. This person asks why God could not help him, when he has done everything in his power to prepare himself. This is the complaint of those whose suffering is the result of an accident.

The fourth passage (Ibid 17-24) on blemishes in the animal sacrifices gives rise to the complaint of one who is given something potentially valuable, only to find it is rendered useless by some defect.

The fifth passage (Ibid 25-33) on the thanksgiving offering - when on "gives thanks for the past and cries out for what is yet to come - gives rise to complaints about the uncertain future. Here the offering (in Hebrew, Teruma), gives rise to a "cry of anguish" - like the Teru'a cry of the Shofar).

Corresponding to these five levels of complaint are the next five passages in Parshat Emor, on the festivals of Shabbat, Passover, Shavuot, Yom Kippur and Succot, each of which shows us how to expand our consciousness and remove the rigidity of the corresponding complaint. With this understanding of the festivals, we are able to move from rigidity to expansion, from exile/distancing to redemption. Each festival teaches us a different aspect of struggling with complaints. Through the specific Mitzvah of each festival - not eating bread for a week (Pessach), not sleeping (Shavuot), not eating, drinking or washing (Yom Kippur) and not having shelter (Succot) we inoculate ourselves against distancing. By instilling some Harchacha/distancing through these Mitzvot, we are then able to recognize it in other areas of our lives, and deal with it. The 'serum' is introduced through the inconvenience of each holiday, and it is how we deal with that inconvenience that determines our path to redemption.

Just as we live in a culture of newness, we also live in a culture of convenience, in which the inconvenient is never valued in and of itself. In this culture, complaints become Hametz. They become sour places that can totally sour our vision of the world. The redemption depends on the Tshuva, which is dependent upon the 'good eye'. Complaints are a part of life; they are inevitable. And so the crucial factor in redemption is how we process complaints, because it is the complaint and the grudge that give rise to the 'narrow eye'. One of the important components of the disqualification of priests for avoda/worship is the priest's honesty. If a priest had a night emission, only he could acknowledge it the next day and thereby disqualify himself for service. His honesty is the gauge of his humanity, and makes the distancing itself a holy thing.

Parshat Emor ends with the story of the blasphemer (Leviticus 24:10-23) who was the illegitimate son of Shlomit and the Egyptian taskmaster. This man teaches us with his pain. Due to the circumstances of his birth, he had been persecuted all his life, and so everyone is implicated in his crime, which is why all were told to place their hands on his head when he was taken out of the camp.

In the Torah of complaints, all are implicated. We all suffer from defects and blemishes. We all have cause for complaint, but if we abandon the Succah when God turns up the heat, we cannot see the redemption. Like Hannah in the first Book of Samuel, we have to turn the pain into an answer, so that each Festival becomes an answer to our individual complaints to God.

Before her transformation Hannah was incredibly embittered by her childlessness. She was so overcome with sorrow and tears that she was unable to eat (1 Samuel 1:7). But she was able to convert the Ayin, the snake, which represents our reactive needs, into the Aleph, the embodiment of paradox. The paradox of the Torah of Complaining involves wanting something and letting go of it simultaneously. Hannah evolves from a reactive state of total bitterness to the state of praying for a son that she won't keep. She teaches us how to pray for our needs, and to let go of them at the same time, and in this, she shows us the secret of innovative repetition in prayer - how to make newness from the source.

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