The eagerly anticipated moment had finally arrived. An entire nation, three million strong, assembled in the courtyard of the newly constructed Mishkan to inaugurate the house built for Hashem. It was a gala celebration, but also a day of stressful nerves and swirling uncertainty. Had Hashem forgiven them for the grievous crime of worshiping a golden calf? Was the historical covenant, forged hundreds of years earlier, in a faraway land, still intact? It was a day tinged with excitement, anticipation and jittery expectations. As a whirling pillar of fire landed upon the altar, the entire nation erupted in song and celebration. Triumph and vindication swept over the ecstatic audience.
Suddenly tragedy struck. Two children of Aharon, the Kohen Gadol, were found dead in the Mishkan. Though they had committed only minor infractions, they were given a harsh and unforgiving sentence. All the energy and excitement of the day came to a screeching halt, as the bodies were removed from the Mishkan. Though the inaugural ceremonies were not interrupted, the mood quickly turned from celebration and joy to gloominess and sorrow. Everyone in attendance was left speechless. No words could possibly explain the shocking death of two kohanim who were merely channeling the immense joy of this opening day of the Mishkan.
Not only was the general population dumbfounded, but Aharon, the father of the two kohanim, was stunned into silence. He had looked forward to this day for catharsis, hoping to overcome his guilt for his complicity in the Egel debacle. Instead of closure, Aharon faced the crushing loss of two children. In a heroic moment of stoic submission, Aharon kept silent. His steely silence is one of the most thunderous moments in the entire Torah. When Man faces perceived divine injustice, his only recourse is to guard his tongue and surrender to the divine mystery. This is Aharon’s akeida, and he doesn’t come up short.
In the aftermath of this tragedy, Hashem was silent, offering no explanation for the stern verdict. Though Moshe offers philosophical perspectives upon the tragedy, Hashem Himself was quiet. No explanation or justification for the harsh and fearsome punishment is provided. While Hashem didn’t directly address the tragedy, He didn’t deliver an important set of Jewish laws. Almost immediately after the tragedy, the laws of kosher food are presented. The Torah provides a lengthy and comprehensive list of forbidden and permissible animals. The Torah drills down to the details, describing animal hoofs and digestive tracts, to discriminate between kosher and non-kosher animals.
Evidently, the laws of kosher food present a coping mechanism for tragedy. Something about Jewish dietary laws provides a response to the dark clouds of tragedy which engulfed a nation in mourning.
Turning to Spirituality
Often, in the aftermath of tragedy, people turn inward, toward spirituality and away from materialism. Spirituality provides us with hope and optimism during bleak times, reminding us of a larger narrative beyond our narrow and frustrating predicament. In addition, tragedy exposes us to vulnerability and the fragility of the human condition. Facing our mortality, we veer away from transient experiences toward the eternal and the infinite. Enduring values and long-term vision speak to us more powerfully in the wake of an incomprehensible calamity.
The experience of keeping kosher inspires greater balance between materialism and spirituality. In theory, kosher laws limit food choices, though in the modern era of widespread availability of kosher food, we rarely experience constraints. Beyond the particular limitations though, kosher laws frame our general attitude toward eating. By regulating our eating, we are better able to preserve a healthy balance between physical experiences and spiritual pursuits.
Having suffered this devastating tragedy, the grieving nation would be eager for a behavioral framework which de-emphasized material gratification and encouraged spirituality. At this point, a wounded nation was amenable to a system of food restrictions.
Post-October 7 Spirituality
Our current national tragedy has caused us to turn inward and toward the world of spirituality. On October 6, our country was profoundly entrepreneurial. We had enjoyed startling financial success and, as the start-up nation, we were the technology darlings of the world. Financial success is certainly an important strategic asset, and it enabled us to both build a strong defense force, as well as to open many diplomatic doors. Our material success, however, came at the expense of our spirit and spirituality.
Perhaps, the war will help us strike a healthier balance between our material success and our spirituality. We are fighting an enemy which could not care less about the material welfare of its citizens. They continually inflict pain and anguish upon innocent citizens to win public support. However, they are deeply spiritual and deeply committed to their larger goals, as hideous as those goals may be.
It is impossible to defeat an idea without a more powerful idea. Weapons, tanks and drones cannot defeat spirit. Only spirit defeats spirit. If we don’t tap into our own spirituality, we will not achieve the decisive victory we so desperately battle for.
A Kosher ‘Community’
There is a second reason that the Torah introduces the concept of kosher food in the wake of an overwhelming tragedy. When confronting tragedy people turn inward to spirituality, but they also turn outward to community. At a purely practical level, community provides logistical and emotional support during a crisis. Furthermore, by sharing feelings with those who share our hardships we feel validated and less isolated in our loneliness.
In addition to the practical help which communities offer, they also provide us with an overall feeling of belonging. Belonging to a larger community comforts us during difficult moments. We take solace in being part of a larger group of people with common experiences and with shared destiny.
Kosher dietary laws create a powerful framework for Jewish communal identity. Providing kosher food often requires larger communal resources. Additionally, eating is a highly social experience and the people we dine with become our innate social community. Kosher food is an internal mechanism to assure strong communal bonds amongst Jews.
By introducing the laws of kosher food in the aftermath of the horrific tragedy, the Torah encourages us to construct robust communities and to draw strength and comfort from our communal identity during a crisis, not just from our contemporary community but also from our intergenerational community of the past. It is powerful and affirming to know that despite our different historical eras, our different cultures, and our different cuisines, we have all prepared meats similarly and we have all avoided mixing meat and milk. Kosher food accentuates communal belonging, and provides us with a response to unexplainable tragedies.
Post- October 7 Communal Identity
Over the past few months, we have faced death, sadness and frustration. Many of our greatest hopes and dreams have been dashed and it is sometimes difficult for us to see a clear path forward. As people of faith, we look darkness in the eye and envision a brighter future authored by Hashem.
Alongside faith, in confronting this crisis, we must also deepen our communal bonds. During the war, we peeled away so many layers of identity which divided Jews in Israel, and divided Israelis from Jews abroad. The war was reductive, stripping away externals of Jewish identity and exposing the common core of what unites every Jew. It endowed us with unity, but it also heightened our communal identity.
As the month marking the start of Jewish history is about to dawn, let us turn inwards to the world of the spirit. Let us also turn outwards to our large nation, those alongside whom we battle for Jewish history, those before us who paved this road, and those after us who, one day, will tell our story.
The writer is a rabbi at Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, a hesder yeshiva. He has semicha and a BA in computer science from Yeshiva University, and a master’s degree in English literature from the City University of New York. He is the author of the newly published Dark Clouds Above, Faith Below, which provides religious responses to the massacres of Oct. 7 and the ensuing war.
