A master teacher decides that the best way to help his young students deal with the trauma of the deaths of the seven Sassoon children is to begin the day's lesson with the laws of kosher.

A master psychologist meeting with a traumatized teen struggling with doubts about God's justice, chooses to begin the session with a presentation of the list of kosher and non-kosher animals, fish, and birds.

A first impression of these two common approaches was that each is practicing the art of distraction. It seems that rather than deal with abstract issues and complex emotions; both teacher and psychologist choose to offer their students something practical, something manageable. But, the laws of kosher! As tangible as are the lists of creatures, they raise all sorts of abstract questions of, "Why?"

Both could claim this week's portion, Shemini, as precedent. The Children of Israel, born in slavery, witnessing the Ten Plagues, traumatized then saved at the Red Sea, elevated at Revelation, fallen with the Golden Calf, elevated again with the Second Tablets and the ability to construct the Tabernacle, a place where they can experience their ability to build a place for God's Presence, on the eighth day of the dedication of the Tabernacle, have yet another elevating experience end in trauma; Nadav and Avihu, the elevated sons of Aaron, die at the Hand of God in their passionate service of God! What are the first laws presented to the people immediately after the trauma? "These are the creatures you may eat from among all the animals that are upon the earth (Leviticus 11:2)."

I shudder to think of a teacher beginning a discussion of a traumatic event with the kosher laws. I rage against a therapist who would begin trauma therapy with a discourse on kosher. How can we possibly understand how God would begin to address a traumatized nation with lists of kosher animals, birds, fish, and insects?

The Midrash calls our attention to a short scene immediately preceding the kosher laws: "Moses diligently sought the goat of the sin offering and saw it was burned up. And he was angry with Eleazar and Ithamar, the sons of Aaron who were left alive, saying,  'Why have you not eaten the sin offering in the sacred area, knowing that it is most holy and was given it to you to bear the iniquity of the congregation to make atonement for them before God? Its blood was not brought into the inner part of the sanctuary. Indeed you should have eaten it in the sanctuary as I commanded.'

Aaron said to Moses, 'Today they have offered their sin offering and their burnt offering before God, and such things have happened to me! If I had eaten the sin offering today, should it have been accepted in the sight of God?' And when Moses heard that, he approved (10:16-19)."

Moses in his anger forgot the law. When he heard Aaron's words he announced to the entire camp, 'I was mistaken. Aaron, my brother, reminded me of the law. I made a mistake in my anger. I was wrong. Aaron was right!' (Vayikra Rabbah 13:1)."

The Midrash understands the scene of Moses' open acknowledgement of his angry mistake as a segue from the traumatic deaths of Nadav and Avihu to the kosher laws. Moses' admission is a warning for the leaders and a consolation of the people. Moses' anger was triggered by the trauma and, in his anger, was forced to admit, "I didn't know." Teachers must realize that they too have been traumatized and are prone to respond ignorantly in anger. It is far better to respond to the trauma by openly acknowledging, "I don't know." I too, am baffled by such tragedies.

Moses initially attempted to offer an explanation to Aaron, "This is what God spoke, saying: 'I will be sanctified by those who come near Me; and before all the people I will be glorified' (10:3)." He failed to comfort his brother, "And Aaron was as a rock." Moses could have avoided his later anger by turning to his broken brother, sharing the devastating pain, and saying, "I don't know. I too, do not understand."

The kosher laws cry out, "I don't know. I too, do not understand." We may study, derive lessons, come up with deep theories, or, delve into the mysteries, but the first step must be, "I don't know. I too, do not understand."

"I don't know," allows a shared experience. It consoles those burdened with unanswered questions. "I don't know," is the first step in the quest for wisdom and understanding. The Sages even describe Moses confused by all the laws until God showed him each creature and pointed out the specific signs of what is kosher and what is not (Hullin 42b, Vayikra Rabbah 13:4)." He began the lesson by openly admitting, "I don't know."

Did it console the traumatized people? I don't know. I do know that Moses' "I don't know," comforts me, and allows me to focus my efforts on finding answers.

Rabbi Simcha L. Weinberg 

President 
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