Seeing to the needs of the Immigrant

Acharei Mot/Kedoshim

Lev. 16:1 -20:27

Précis: Acharei Mot begins with Adonai speaking to Moses after the death (acharei mot) of Aaron’s sons. It describes the rituals for Yom Kippur, including the prescribed sacrifices. There are specific details about the purification of the Sanctuary, vessels, and the priests. Following this descriptions, rules for the slaughter of meat (including the prohibition against eating blood) are reiterated. The parasha concludes with a listing of prohibited marriages. 

            The opening words of Kedoshim are “You shall be holy” (kedoshim tihyu), and it continues with various descriptions of how the People are to strive for holiness. Included are fundamental laws, such as fearing one’s parents and observing Shabbat. Consideration of the poor through the commandments to leave the corners of fields for gleaners is included, as are mandates which complement the ethical principles of the Ten Commandments (being honest, avoiding vengeance). Specific bans against magicians, soothsaying, witchcraft and defiling the dead follow, as are reminders to avoid human sacrifice. This parasha is often viewed as the very core of moral teaching for the Jewish People.

Lev. 19:9 “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field , or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not pick your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen fruit of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I the Lord am your God.”

            We in the United States are presently in the midst of the never-ending debate about immigration. The issue of immigration and undocumented workers has been at the center of a national debate for decades, which I find highly ironic, since America is, after all (and proudly!) a nation of immigrants.  As Jews, we feel a particular resonance with this issue, having so often been immigrants (voluntary or involuntary) during our own extended history. Emma Lazarus not only penned the welcoming words inscribed on the Statue of Liberty; she was among the earliest ardent Zionists in America, recognizing that the Jews needed their own land to return to.

            We are now counting the days of the Omer leading up to the festival of Shavuot, when we will read the Book of Ruth, perhaps the most famous instance of the acceptance of “the stranger” (immigrant) in Biblical literature. It is an example of the way in which Leviticus 19:9, cited here, was effectuated in Israelite society.

            The Book of Leviticus is filled with a variety of commandments which prohibit certain actions. We are not to have sexual relations with specified individuals; there are foods we are forbidden to eat; there are limitations on what we may wear, and what we may say. As with other examples throughout Leviticus, we see in this verse a limitation on action: the corners of the field are not to be harvested. Often in Leviticus, we are not provided with a rationale for a prohibition. Here, however, we have a very specific explanation for the ban on reaping the corners of one’s field: it is to be left for the poor and the stranger. Ruth survives by reaping grain from a field’s corner, and later weds the field’s owner, which led eventually to a king of Israel (David) and, by tradition, to the Messiah. From small acts great things can occur. 

               There is also an interesting Hebrew linguistic hint that suggests another lesson. In the course of the verse, we switch from your (plural) land (“artzechem”) to your (singular) field (“sadkha”). This suggests that seeing to the needs of the poor – and the immigrant - is both a communal and an individual mitzvah we need to observe.

Science and Faith

Tazria

Lev. 12:1-13:59

Précis: Tazria begins with laws concerning the need for ritual purification of women following the birth of children, and the laws of what is usually referred to as “leprosy” of the skin and on garments (although this translation is most certainly erroneous; it appears to refer to an affliction which renders the person, garment, or home ritually impure).

Lev. 13:1 “Adonai spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying, ‘When a person has on the skin of his body a swelling, a rash, or a discoloration, and it develops into a scaly infection on the skin of his body, it shall be reported to Aaron the priest or to one of his sons, the priests.’”

I find it of some interest that our text directs the priests to engage in the analysis of what appears to be a disease or medical affliction. This raises (albeit indirectly) the question of what our tradition has to say about the interaction of scientific knowledge and Torah.

            I turn for instruction to the work of Maimonides, the preeminent philosopher of the Middle Ages who sought to reconcile rabbinic tradition with the scientific advances of his time. .

            There is little doubt that Maimonides demonstrated a passion for nature, and saw in nature a way to glimpse the Divine. “And what is the way that will lead to the love of Him and the fear of Him? When a person contemplates His great and wondrous works and creatures and from them obtains a glimpse of His wisdom, which is incomparable and infinite, he will straightway love Him, praise Him, glorify Him, and long with an exceeding longing to know His great name… (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei haTorah, 2:2).

            Maimonides felt that Torah could be understood through human rationality. As a physician, he naturally felt that medicine was an excellent way to evaluate the natural world (physics) as a necessary preliminary to the divine (metaphysics). In his Guide to the Perplexed, he voices the opinion that all of worldly learning (physics) does not originate in Torah, but that there is much to be learned from others (particularly Muslim thought) which can help us understand the world in which we live. This was a truly radical thought at the time, and subjected Mainmonides to severe criticism from others. He nevertheless sought to use worldly knowledge to understand the metaphysical world, but admitted that even the most advanced scientific “truths” could not supersede halakha (Jewish law). There were certainly times when science could explain halakha (e.g., his belief that some of the laws of kashrut were based on medical necessity), but there were times when science and halakha existed in separate spheres; some aspects of God’s design were (at least for now) unexplainable. He took the additional radical step of casting occasional doubt on the scientific ability of some of the Sages of the Talmud and Mishnaic periods while he acknowledged that scientific understanding could not undermine the legitimacy of halakha.

            I find that this interaction between science and halakha in our heritage to be quite interesting, especially when we deal with the highly esoteric subject of “Tazria.” I wonder, too, what Maimonides would make of halackhic decisions based on erroneous scientific understanding (e.g., the use of electricity on Shabbat). And what might Maimonides think about the new “Shabbat switches” which claim to allow one to turn on and off electrical lights and appliances on Shabbat without violating the understood laws of Shabbat?

            Science is a precursor to understanding the Divine. But as Maimonides himself knew, our knowledge of “physics” is only as good as our current scientific understanding. Thus, our search for the metaphysical is continuing and ongoing, and must be informed by a changing set of scientific “truths.”