d’var torah
After? Getting Past,
or Going Through
I Parshat Acharei Mot
s there really an “aft er” in this life?
Certainly, rabbinic Judaism gives
us multiple models and metaphors
for an aft erlife, but in this life, how do we
structure the time aft er a diffi cult moment?
Given our collective experiences over
the past 2-plus years of pandemic, I fi nd
myself newly troubled by the name, the
fi rst key words, of this week’s Torah
portion, Parshat Acharei Mot. We begin:
“God spoke to Moses aft er the death
(acharei mot) of Aaron’s sons, who died
when they drew too close to the Divine
Presence ...” (Vayyikra 16:1).

For millennia, rabbis and other scholars
have tried to explain Aaron’s sons’ sud-
den, tragic and mysterious death, which is
described in more detail back in Chapter
10 of the Book of Leviticus. Here, the allu-
sion seems almost heartless in its passing,
breezy mention — as if to say, “Now,
where were we? Ah yes, you know, right
aft er this unspeakable, unimaginable loss,
we’re back to business with the laws …”
As with so many of our modern media,
it can be diffi cult to read tone into certain
sections of the Torah — but here, I worry
that the words “acharei mot” (aft er the
death) feel like little more than a refer-
ence point, a calibration — itself not so
important, except in its role to keep us
on track. Perhaps even more unfeeling
is the fi rst reminder given to Aaron, via
Moses, that he should be more careful
and less fl ippant than his sons when he
approaches the Divine Presence.

Might Aaron hear this as “they should
have known better, don’t you make the
same mistake,” a warning that in some
way rationalizes the loss in a time when
it is still “acharei” — just aft er, still raw?
Is such an admonition even necessary?
Wouldn’t Aaron be instinctively reluc-
tant to get too close to God aft er this
shocking trauma? (Indeed, he is hesitant
to resume his priestly duties, as we read at
the end of Chapter 10 of Leviticus.)
And given that the next laws in our
parshah are about national and per-
sonal atonement rituals for the priest-
hood, might Aaron hear that as God
and his brother Moses ascribing
blame to Aaron’s loss?
Regardless of whether Aaron’s sons
Nadav and Avihu “deserved” their pun-
ishment of death (and given the rabbis’
struggle over the centuries to explain
or justify that shocking moment, I’d say
that’s an unsettled question!), the fol-
low-up words of acharei mot six chapters
later, feel too cursory. Immediately in the
wake of the loss, Aaron is struck speech-
less with the pain of loss (10:3). Just a few
weeks later in our reading, and just six
chapters in the Torah text, is he really
recovered, to the point that he feels it is
“aft er” such a trauma?
It may be true that both cataclysmic
and pinnacle moments can serve as key
markers in our lives. But when we mention
such moments, they are not just reference
points. As with a Yizkor service or a yahr-
zeit, we return to purposefully, mourn-
fully refl ect on these moments, to their
emotional tugs on our hearts. It feels too
cavalier to simply state, factually, “this was
aft er one of the worst, most unexpected,
most traumatic moments of your life.”
As a rabbi, present with people working
through diff erent stages of grief, including
the cyclical return to that loss through
memorializing, I have come to appreciate
the maxim that, in our healthiest psy-
chological selves, we do not just get past
a heartbreak; we go through a heartbreak.

Th ere was a time, early in the pan-
demic, when I was hopeful for some
triumphant moment of “return” to nor-
malcy. We envisioned a spirited collec-
tive b’nai mitzvah and other celebrations.

Aft er such a long time of emotional
exhaustion, the return has been less tri-
umphant and more incremental.

At Adath Israel, we are still planning
a more subdued series of group life-cycle
events (in addition to the individualized
ones), which we’ve entitled “Making up
for Lost Times”: an acknowledgment last
week of those who experienced loss over
the past two years but did not benefi t
from the communal outpouring of con-
dolence that comes with fully attended
funerals and shivas, a group aliyah so
that the community can celebrate our
b’nai and b’not mitzvah, a delayed aufruf-
style aliyah for wedding couples, and
a baby-naming berachah (for boys and
girls, some of whom, now out of infancy,
will toddle themselves to the Torah).

In a dystopian moment, T.S. Eliot
imagined the aft ermath of the world “not
with a bang, but a whimper.” Th e Israeli
poet Natan Alterman reimagined Chaim
Weizmann’s statement that a Jewish state
would not be given to us on a silver
platter as personifi ed by young soldiers,
“dressed in battle gear, dirty, shoes heavy
with grime ... ascend(ing) the path qui-
etly ... still bone weary from days and
from nights in the fi eld, full of endless
fatigue and unrested, yet the dew of their
youth is still seen on their head ... (say-
ing), ‘We are the silver platter on which
the Jewish state was given …”
Let us, incrementally emerge from
this time of pandemic — far from tri-
umphant, but weary and weathered by
loss — both the loss of life and the
social-emotional toll that continues
to aff ect us in varying degrees. We
are far from acharei.

Even as we venture forth, let us do so
with humility and care — with the years
2020-2022 not a dark reference point
but rather a learning, a cause for soft er
words toward one another ... a font of
caring, viewed not as a hashmark on
some timeline that we get past, but rather
an arduous period that we go through,
together. JE
Rabbi Eric Yanoff is a rabbi of Adath Israel
in Merion Station, and is the immediate
past co-president of the Board of Rabbis of
Greater Philadelphia. Th e board is proud
to provide diverse perspectives on Torah
commentary for the Jewish Exponent. Th e
opinions expressed in this column are the
author’s own and do not refl ect the view
of the Board of
Rabbis. social announcements
ENGAGEMENT R
Photo by Scott Goosenberg
BY RABBI ERIC YANOFF
GOOSENBERG-OLIVIERI MARTINEZ
obyn and
Rick Goosenberg of Fort
Washington and Marisol
Olivieri of San Juan,
Puerto Rico announce the
engagement of their children,
Scott Ross Goosenberg and
Fátima Olivieri Martinez.

Fátima is the daughter of
the late Eric R. Olivieri. She is
a graduate of the University
of Puerto Rico and the
University of Virginia with a master’s of architecture. She is a principal
at Philadelphia architecture fi rm KieranTimberlake.

Scott is a graduate of the University at Buff alo Honors College,
with a master of arts in political science from the University of British
Columbia and a master of science in security studies from UCL. He
is an information technology program manager at Washington, D.C.

consulting fi rm CoAspire.

Sharing in the happiness are grandparents Stanley Goosenberg,
Ana Martinez and Jovina Beauchamp and siblings Hallie (Zac Yeni)
and David (Hannah Talbot) Goosenberg and Cari and Cindy Olivieri.

Scott is the grandson of the late Miriam Faye, Irving Faye and Pearl
Goosenberg. Fátima is granddaughter of the late Mariano Martínez
and Edgar Olivieri.

JEWISHEXPONENT.COM 33