Food, Glorious Food

I came across an interesting Halachik discussion the other day; it was entitled “The Halachot of All You Can Eat Buffets.”   Apparently it was inspired by a law suit brought by a disgruntled All-you-can-eat sushi bar patron.  As the Los Angeles Times describes it, an individual with diabetes was caught taking out the fish (the more expensive item) from the rice (the less expensive item) on each sushi roll.  The restaurant owner kicked him out, after which the patron sued, claiming that the owner was discriminating against him because of his diabetes.  He couldn’t eat the rice, he argued, since it contained sugar, so he had no choice except to remove the fish only and discard the rest (let’s leave alone the obvious response for a moment — i.e., that such a person should have gone to an all-you-can-eat FISH restaurant, not a sushi bar).

The halachik discussion I referred to above picked up on this news item and considered the halachik ramifications for both this case as well as such buffets in general, discussing what is and what is not permissable in a whole array of situations.

Interesting, I thought, but also a little bit absurd.  Don’t the Jewish people have more pressing issues to deal with than the halachik requirements of an all-you-can-eat buffet (and besides, maybe we shouldn’t be frequenting such gluttonous infused places in the first place).

But on second thought I realized that food is very much part of the Jewish people’s core curriculum — that absurd as it may be to discuss such a buffet, exploring the details of food-related questions could very well provide a (pardon the pun) fruitful path to pursue.

Consider parshat Shmini.  The Mishkan (tabernacle) has just been dedicated and God’s presence is once again felt within the Israelites desert camp following the ‘fallout’ from their sin of the golden calf.  The moment is glorious and joyous.  Even the terrible tragedy that immediately follows — i.e., the death of Aaron’s two sons Nadav and Avihu (more about that in a moment) — does not entirely eradicate the excitement of what is taking place.  It can’t.  After all, this is their second chance.  With the erection of the Mishkan, God has decided to save the Jewish people and begin anew, forgiving them of their sin and offering them a way forward to deep meaning and a blessed national life.

But then the Torah does something difficult to understand.  Here we are at a moment of great meaning, pregnant with possibility.  And what does the Torah say next?  What follows the erection of the Mishkan?  What is the first message given to the renewed people of Israel?

The laws of Kashrut.

Now I’m not against kashrut, and certainly believe it’s an essential part of our tradition.  But does it really deserve such hallow placement.  God could have said anything at this point in time, and anything God said would have been afforded — justly so — great significance.  This is the way forward.  This is your mission.  This is what’s essential. But no, all God offers are the laws of Kashrut.  Basically, the laws of an all-you-can-eat buffet.  In doing so, doesn’t it feel like the Torah missed a wonderful opportunity to teach us something of utmost importance?

Let’s make the question stronger.  When God created the world, what is the first thing God tells the newly created human being Adam?  Yes, you’re right — it’s a command about food again.  You can eat this (everything in the Garden of Eden) but can’t eat that (except for the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil).  Is that really the most important thing God could think of at this incredibly unique moment in history?  God has just created a world; God has just created a human being.  How about telling us what it means to be such a creature?  Or tell us our mission in this world?  Or a little bit about God?  Creation?  Anything?  Is a discussion about food at this point in time really the best God can do?

It doesn’t stop there.  Think about the time following the Jews’ departure from Egypt.  The Exodus!  What an amazing moment in time, perhaps only second in significance to the creation of the world.  Again, when the whole world is watching, what message does God choose to share with us?  No, not what it means to be free, or something else equally inspiring.  Rather, God tells us about how we are supposed to cook the Karban Pesach (the Paschal sacrifice offering) and eat the Matzah.  Wow!  Again at such a crucial point in history the discussion focuses on food.  Why?

***

Perhaps part of the answer can be found by exploring another part of this Parshat Shmini – the already alluded death of Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu.

Most commentaries view their death as just desserts for some great sin.  What exactly that sin was we are not sure.  Perhaps it was approaching the holy of holies intoxicated.  Or maybe it was their arrogance of trying to usurp power from their father and uncle Moshe.  Some say it was because they chose not to get married.  Others suggest it was their initiation of a new ritual not commanded by God.

There are other commentators who take an entirely different tack, suggesting that their death did not arise out of some sin but rather due to their incredible holiness, that God wanted them ‘back with God’ for some reason, that their Earthly human mission was over.  They were Tzadikim, or righteous ones, argue many commentators.  In fact, these commentators (including Rashi) suggest, the reason we read about their death on Yom Kipur is due to their tremendous holiness, for just as their righteousness provided atonement for the Jews of the desert, Yom Kipur can provide atonement for Jews today.

Hasidic masters such as the Mei Shiloach and Rebbe Nachman go a step further.  Not only were they tzadikim, but they were the holiest of the holy.  They died because of their tremendous love of God and all things spiritual.  They had become so spiritual, in fact, they no longer had a need for the physical or any of those mundane things – like food, family and even life – craved for by regular humans.  They turned their back on the physical so as to ascend ever higher in their pursuit of God and godliness.

Perhaps this view is best understood by the Torah’s double use of the word ‘lephanay Hashem’ — in the face of God.  It was to ‘God’s face’ that they turned and ‘in God’s face” that they died.  They did not turn away from God but the opposite; they sought God out.

[That Nadav and Avihu might pursue such behavior should not come as too much a surprise.  We have both a communal as well personal precedent to suggest this was nothing more than a continuation of who they always were.  For example, back in the Book of Exodus, we are told that all the elders, including Nadav and Avihu, ascended Mount Sinai during revelation.  Rashi says that they tried to sneak a peak at God's presence, the Schinah, while there and should have in fact been punished with death for this attempt, but God did not want to ruin the great joy of the day.  That they tried again by themselves in this parsha, therefore, was not out of character.  Moreover, nor was the courage it took to even try to approach God in such an intimate way.  After all, consider their personal lineage.  Aaron, of course, was their father.  But their mother, too, plays a significant role.  She was Elisheva, about whom the Torah tells us was the daughter of Aminadav and the sister of Nachshon.  Why do we need to know who her brother was?  Because Nachshon is a known quantity as well - he was the one who jumped into the Sea of Reeds when everyone else hesitated, through which the entire sea was split.  He was a man of great courage, prepared to risk his very life for the sake of God.  Nadav and Avihu inherited such genes as well.  (An aside: Generations later there is another individual that dies out of a great desire to draw closer than appropriate to God -- Uzzah.  He is the individual who touches the holy ark without permission.  Guess who his father was?  Aminadav.  Sure, this Aminadav is not the same as the father of Elisheva and Nachshon, but given the recycling of names, we certainly can assume he came from the same stock, and shared with his son Uzzah the same courageous dna).]

***

So there we have it, the reconstituted lives of Nadav and Avihu.  No, they were not sinners but the opposite, the holiest of the holy.

… and yet, I’m still not entirely at peace with their death.

Nor should I be.

And perhaps the best place to understand the reason for my discomfort is with another individual who wanted to see “God’s face” just like Nadav and Avihu — but in his case he was rebuffed directly by God.

I am talking about Moshe of course.  As you may remember, following the sin of the Golden calf God wanted to destroy the entire Jewish people.  Moshe intervenes and saves their lives.  Sensing that this might be a good time, he asks to see God’s glory, to which God responds that no man can see God’s face and live.  You can only see the back.

In other words, Moshe wanted to approach God’s face as well, to leave behind the physical and approach the pure spirituality of God.  But God says no – that’s not for you Moshe.  You must live – and that means live in this world with all the physical attributes within it.  You must eat, marry and raise a family, find a job even.  The mission is not to leave it all behind.  It is not to do what Nadav and Avihu will attempt to do, to draw so close to me and become such pure spiritual beings that they have no need for the physical.  Rather, it is to elevate the physical — the ‘animal’ side of you — for holy purposes.  It is not to destroy the physical, but simply connect it to the spiritual.

***

Now for the puritans amongst us, one might feel that Moshe’s path is a cop out.  If I can achieve true spirituality, why not go for it?  OK, I understand for most people this won’t be possible — so for them, let them see only God’s back, but for me, I want to go for the whole thing, God’s front.

To them I share an amazing insight of the Pri Eitz HaChaim.  He quotes the fascinating Midrash found in the Talmud Tractate Berachot that states what Moshe saw when he gazed at God’s ‘back’ was in fact the knot found on God’s tephillin.  What an amazingly convaluded midrash.  What does it mean that Moshe saw the tephillin knot on the back of God’s ‘head’ — does that even make sense?  Can God even have tephillin?

The Pri Eitz HaChaim’s response:  When one looks at the front of a person wearing tephillin, he or she will see two straps on both sides of the person, the right and the left, symbolizing the attributes of hesed (compassion) and din (strict judgement).  But if one looks at the back of the person — at the knot of the tephillin — the observer will then realize that these two straps, straps that look very much apart and represent qualities quite distant from one another, are in fact attached.  They are in fact one.

Sometimes, when one pursues God and godly matters, he or she believes that there is only one way, that it’s either/or.  I must either give everything up in pursuit of God’s face, or I must give up the pursuit itself.  But that’s not true.  Believe it or not, you actually get a better view from the back, where you will see that it is possible to achieve both.

This, I believe, is the message of the death of Nadav and Avihu.  Pursuit of God at the expense of ‘life’ is not the goal.  Seeing God’s face at the expense of the deeper lessons found in seeing God’s back is not the mission.  Becoming the holiest of the holy by fleeing this world is not the path.  Rather, the way forward is to follow Moshe’s example, to combine the physical with the spiritual, the mundane with the holy, for in doing so one elevates both.

***

Now let us return to the matter of food.  Why does God speak about food right after the erection of the Mishkan?  Why at the beginning of the Exodus?  Why at the beginning of the world?  Because in all these cases mankind is about to start a new endeavor, and to do this properly, he must understand who he is and what his mission includes.  Food is not the issue, but what it represents is.  Food is a physical matter; the pursuit of it we share with all animals, and one might therefore think its something to shun.  But no, we are not angels.  We do not run away from the physical.  We must admit that we need the physical and it is a big part of who we are.  And then following this confession, we must elevate it.  Some cultures celebrate the body.  That is not Judaism.  But nor is celebration of the spirit alone.  It is the synthesis that we celebrate.  The elevation of the body – who we are – to the spirit – to where we want to go.

[When I first delivered this talk in shul, I concluded by talking a little about the Jerusalem Marathon that took place the day before.  Some questioned the value of a Marathon being run in Jerusalem.  After all, it is a very 'greek' thing to do; it celebrates the body.  I responded that the Marathon I witnessed was not a celebration of the body but rather a celebration of the connection between the body and the spirit.  People ran together, and many of them ran for charity.  It was about accomplishing something difficult, and proving one could overcome the odds.  I saw a blind person running with a string around his hand tethered to a guide running with him.  What trust.  What dedication on the part of the guide.]

Advertisement