Disability and the Celts - Emor - Mythic Torah

Nuada Silver-Hand

Welcome back to Mythic Torah, my regular article investigating monsters, heroes and gods in the weekly Torah reading. This week's reading is Emor, the 8th reading of the book of Leviticus, that includes further instructions for the Priests as well as the major festivals of the Jewish year.

As a religious Jew, and particularly as a future rabbi, I come to the Torah looking for wisdom and guidance. I expect the Torah to speak to me with a voice of holiness and divinity, a voice that calls me to be better than I am.

But there are sections of the Bible, and the Torah in particular, where this set of assumptions is hard to maintain, where it is very difficult for me to see the perfect voice of holiness that I look for.

Emor contains one of those sections.

After beginning with instructions about the Priests avoiding dead bodies, God gives Moses instructions about priests with physical disabilities:

When to Break Boundaries - Acharei Mot - Mythic Torah

Welcome back to Mythic Torah, my regular article investigating monsters, heroes and gods in the weekly Torah reading. This week's reading is Acharei Mot, the 6th reading of the book of Leviticus, that deals with the ritual of the Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, as well as laws of forbidden sexual relationships.

The Death of Nadav and Avihu

When I started this Mythic Torah project back in January, I knew that some weeks would be easier to deal with than others. I knew that Genesis would be plain-sailing, and could finish off my year of Mythic Torah with a bang. Exodus felt pretty comfortable, and I was pretty sure I had a lot to say about most of Numbers and quite a few parashiot of Deuteronomy.

It was Leviticus that really scared me.

How was I going to find something mythological to write about every week when the theme, over and over again, is sacrifices, purity and the priesthood?

While I've managed to find something to say so far, there was always a beacon of hope, one story that I knew I'd be able to write about - the death of Nadav and Avihu, two of Aaron's sons.

But when Shemini rolled around 3 weeks ago, that relates how they died, I found I had another idea altogether, and so held off the discussion of their deaths until this week's parasha of Acharei Mot, which literally means after the death and tells about the first Yom Kippur ritual designed to cleanse the sanctuary.

What I find fascinating is that this week's parasha seems to disagree with Shemini about the cause of their death.

In Lev 10, we read that Nadav and Avihu came into the Tabernacle to offer 'strange fire', fire that was unauthorised somehow (though exactly what the problem was is a little unclear). In this week's reading of Acharei Mot we get a rather different take (Lev 16):

Purim, Wine & Dionysus - Shemini - Mythic Torah

The Talmud (Megillah 7b) tells a great story about two rabbis that get drunk together on Purim:

Rabbah and Rav Zeira made a Purim feast together. They got drunk, and Rabbah stood up and killed Rav Zeira. On the morrow, Rabbah prayed for him and he came back to life!

The following year, Rabbah said to him: ‘Come, let's celebrate the Purim feast together again!’ Rav Zeira replied: ‘No thanks, miracles don't happen every day.’

Now that it's a few days after Purim, I hope you've recovered from any ill-effects from over-indulging, though I suspect your hangovers may not compare with Rav Zeira being murdered by his friend, only to be resurrected the next morning - now that's a hangover.

While I suspect that this story is meant to be something of a joke, it highlights a tension in Judaism about wine and alcohol - one the one hand these two rabbis celebrate the festival of Purim together by getting drunk, fulfilling Rava's teaching that you are supposed to get drunk on Purim until "you don't know the difference between 'Blessed be Mordechai' and 'Cursed be Haman'".

On the other hand we see here the potential for drinking, even in the context of religious celebration, to lead to out of control, violent behaviour.

Jews are permitted to drink alcohol, and we use wine as a central part of our most important rituals - shabbat, festivals, marriage and so on - and yet we know how dangerous alcohol can be.

So what is the place of wine and alcohol in Jewish mythology and ritual?

In Shemini, our parasha this week, two of Aaron's sons, Nadav and Avihu, are consumed by divine fire as they bring an offering to the Tabernacle, a topic that we will investigate more thoroughly in a few weeks when we reach Acharei Mot.

This is followed by rules that are to bind Priests in their work, including an important regulation about drinking wine (Lev 10:8-11):

8] Then the Lord said to Aaron, 9] ‘You and your sons are not to drink wine or other fermented drink whenever you go into the tent of meeting, or you will die. This is a lasting ordinance for the generations to come, 10] so that you can distinguish between the holy and the profane, between the impure and the pure, 11] and so you can teach the Israelites all the decrees the Lord has given them through Moses.’


This rule is placed so close to the story of the death of Nadav and Avihu that, beginning with Rabbi Ishmael in Vayikra Rabba, their deaths have been attributed to being drunk when they entered the sanctuary.

Why is this rule given? What's the problem with a priest working in the Tabernacle after having drunk wine or strong drinks?

Priests vs Clerics - Tzav - Mythic Torah

http://patrickmcevoy.deviantart.com/

"Magic User, Fighter, Thief, Ranger, Bard or Cleric?"

I may have let the cat out of the bag in the last few weeks about some of my geekier interests and hobbies, but for parashat Tzav it's time to delve into another - Dungeons and Dragons (and other tabletop role-playing games).

D&D is a fantasy role-playing game in which each player creates a character to be their avatar in the game world, each character is defined by statistics, abilities, level, alignment and, most crucially for our discussion today, a class. Each class has its own strengths and weaknesses - a fighter would be good at hand to hand combat but not best at sneaking past foes unseen, while a Magic User could draw on a potent range of spells but were weak if caught in combat.

Clerics were an interesting bunch. They had combat potential and could wear armour, they could call on their deities to banish the undead, and most importantly, they could always be relied on for healing spells. As long as a cleric was true to the strictures of their god (whichever god that might be), their powers were essential for keeping the party alive and in one piece, while a party without a cleric might struggle to make it to the final encounters with only a few hit points to spare.

And of all the stats that a D&D character has, it was Wisdom that was the Clerics most important characteristic.

As a student Rabbi, I like the idea that a cleric's main role is in wisdom (though I suspect Intelligence, Charisma and Constitution are also pretty important). A rabbis role is to learn our sacred texts and bring them to the people so they are accessible, meaningful and transformative.

But what about the Cohanim?

Food Fit For God - VaYikra - Mythic Torah

Feasting in Valhalla

Does God need to eat?

Now you make think that the answer is 'obviously no', of course God, who has no corporeal body in any literal sense of the word, does not need physical sustenance from food and drink. But the Ancient Greeks, and other ancient cultures, would certainly have disagreed with you - the Gods of Olympus dined regularly on nectar and ambrosia in order to maintain their youth and immortality. In Norse mythology too, the Gods of Valhalla feast regularly alongside the Einherjar, the honoured dead who were slain in battle.

As we begin the book of Leviticus (VaYikra) with its long descriptions of the sacrifices that had to be brought in temple times in various life situations, we have to ask ourselves this question about the God of the Bible, and consider what the answer might mean about the Torah and its meaning for us today.

Why might we think that God eats?

Well, the Mesopotamian epic of Gilgamesh, that predates the Bible includes a really interesting description of how the gods relate to sacrifices, in an image that is both resonant and dissonant with this week's parasha.

God of Fire and Forge - Pekudei - Mythic Torah

Purphoros, God of the Forge by Eric Deschamps, from Magic: The Gathering

 "Purphoros is the god of the forge, the restless earth, and fire. He rules the raw creative force of heat and energy that fills the souls of sentient beings. His energy emerges as chaos, something to be harnessed and shaped by labor and passion. For this reason, Purphoros is also the god of artisans, of obsession, and of the cycle of creation and destruction."
 -Planeswalker's Guide to Theros

As much time as I spend thinking about Sea Monsters, I probably spend more thinking about Magic: The Gathering, the awesome collectible card game published by Wizards of the Coast. While I love games of all kinds, Magic has the amazing combination of endlessly varied gameplay, the opportunity to experiment and be creative, and unbelievable fantasy art, that it has become my absolute favourite.

The idea behind Magic, and other collectible card games, is that every few months a new set of cards comes out, giving you hundreds of new possibilities for building your decks, and each year the game is set on a different fantasy world.

Now given everything you know about me, you can probably imagine my excitement when I discovered that this year would be set on a world inspired by Greek mythology, a world called Theros. This rich fantasy world has an equally rich pantheon, and one of the major gods is called Purphoros, god of the forge.

As the quote above shows, Purphoros is both the god of fire and destruction, and the god of artisans and artistic creation, the god who creates powerful enchantments and artefacts, and the god of violent rage and consuming fire.

This combination of art and fire marks the end of this week's parasha of Pekudei. We've spend much of the last month reading about the plans and construction of the mishkan, the mobile tabernacle in the wilderness, and after we've read about all these artistic and creative works, God finally manifests in the holy sanctuary:

Cherubs and Empty Space - VaYakhel - Mythic Torah

Kanizsa's Triangle

How many triangles are there in this picture?

There are several 'right' answers to this question, I think, but I'm most interested in the illusion of a white triangle pointed down at the center of the lines and circles. There isn't really a white triangle in this image, nor is there a secret magen david, a star of David. Instead the empty space is marked out through lines and sectors of circles such that your brain fills in the triangle.

Empty space is given structure and the illusion of form through its surrounding objects.

In this week's torah reading of Vayakhel, we see how the sacred space of the tabernacle is structured with wood, gold and cloth to create a form for the divine. Specifically, once we get to the holiest centre of the holiest space, we find the Ark of the Covenant, above which are two unusual figures (Ex 37):

The House of God - Terumah - Mythic Torah

"At last they rode over the downs and took the East Road, and then Merry and Pippin rode on to Buckland and already they were singing again as they went. But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap. He drew a deep breath. 'Well, I'm back,' he said."
-Return of the King, J R R Tolkien

The epic Lord of the Rings, both the book and the movie, end the same way. After a long and dangerous series of adventures, facing desperate situations and fearsome monsters, we return with Sam Gamgee to his home, to his wife and his daughter. Why does the story end this way? Why end the high fantasy narrative with the domesticity of Sam at home?

A dwelling place is also the focus of this week's Torah reading, parashat Terumah. After the exodus, the drama of the red sea, and the revelation of Sinai, the time has come, God tells Moses, for the people to build a sanctuary for the divine, so that God can dwell among the people:

Parashat Naso - Limmud Dvar Torah (with bonus material!)

I have a dvar torah up on Limmud on One Leg's blog today for parashat Naso - check it out here and then come back for some exclusive extra bonus material.

Finished? Don't worry, I'll wait.

Mirror, Mirror - Reflections on Parashat Vayakhel/Pekudei

    “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

    The image of the evil queen from Snow White, standing before her magic mirror, has become a fundamental part of western culture, from Disney’s classic cartoon to Charlize Theron, in Snow White and the Huntsman, and Julia Roberts, in Mirror Mirror. The evil step mother, obsessed with her own reflection, her own beauty lasting forever, has become a key part of our idea of what mirrors mean.

    We might then be surprised to find mirrors at the heart of the tabernacle, the mishkan, whose construction we read about this week as the conclusion of the book of Exodus.

    Exodus 38:8 tells us about Betzalel making the basin, the kiyor, with which the priests would wash themselves before beginning the service:
   
    8] And he made the basin of bronze, and the base thereof of bronze, of the mirrors of the serving women that did service at the door of the tent of meeting.

    We know that the mishkan was constructed from the offerings of the people, whatever their hearts moved them to give, but why construct the basin out of mirrors? What place do mirrors have in our most sacred places?