This past week we celebrated the Bar Mitzvah of Sam Marion. Similar to the many retrospectives circulating in the news this week about one year ago when everything changed, Sam’s Bar Mitzvah was originally scheduled exactly one year ago this past week.
A mere 48 hours before his Bar Mitzvah celebration we held an emergency board meeting to discuss the rapidly-escalating, and at the time still largely mysterious, phenomenon that was to become the COVID-19 pandemic. We determined then that the only responsible thing to do, given the alarming spike in infections and deaths, and the rapidly-forming consensus to shut everything down, was to put a pause on all in-person gatherings in our synagogue. 48 hours before Sam Marion’s Bar Mitzvah celebration. It was a heart-wrenching decision, and one he handled with the grace of someone far beyond his years. The rest of Sam’s family was equally magnanimous.
At the time, we hardly knew what a postponement meant. It could have been a couple of months and then Sam would pick up right where he left off. Instead, the pandemic wore on, and Sam and his family decided to postpone their celebration for exactly one year, in part so Sam could celebrate through the ritual of having his exact same Torah portion come around it again.
It did, as it always does (there is something comforting about that, isn’t there?) and Sam offered a beautiful reflection about his Torah portion Ki Tissa, held on Shabbat Parah. Ki Tissa is the infamous Torah portion where the incident of the Israelites worshiping the golden calf in Moses’ extended absence interrupts the account of Moses receiving the instructions from God regarding the construction of the sacred, portable tabernacle that would travel with them in the wilderness serving as the symbolic reminder of God’s presence in their midst.
Shabbat Parah refers to one of the special Shabbats that precede the Passover holiday that serves as a reminder of the preparatory measures needed in advance of the holiday. In particular, it discusses the preparatory ritual steps one needs to undertake when one has come into contact with the remains of the deceased. Such contact was seen as rendering an impurity that needed to be cleansed before everyone assembled at the tabernacle for the holiday.
Sam offered a heartfelt take on the common thread he saw here: fear. How our fear—of a leadership vacuum in Moses’ absence; of contagion and ritual impurity—leads us to lash out and act irrationally.
So what is the remedy? This, too, is offered in the parshah. The title of the parsha, Ki Tissa, means “when you take,” as in God telling Moses, “when you take a census of the Israelite people,” each person shall contribute a half shekel, no more, no less, as a sacred offering, in order to complete construction of the tabernacle.
The rabbis ask, why a half shekel? Why not a whole?
Rabbi Jacob Joseph of Polonne, (1710–1784) teaches “so that no one should ever think that they should be separate from their fellows.” Rather, he teaches, a half shekel reminds us that we should view ourselves as, in a sense, unfinished, and only by joining with our fellow human beings do we become complete. Or, as contemporary Rabbi Shefa Gold offers, “My half-shekel redeems me of the illusion of separation.”
How is this an antidote to fear? It’s a reminder that we are connected to our community regardless of what comes our way. Inseparable from one another, the illusion of isolation gives way to the openness and connectedness that buoys us and steels us as we encounter our life.
We have much for which to be grateful. Thank you, Sam, for teaching us.
Shalom,
Rabbi K.