Voices for WRJ: Parashat Vayikra

by Rabbi Jaimee Shalhevet I remember being six years old, sitting at my parents’ Rosh Hashanah dinner table trying to add something to the conversation. They were talking with my grandparents and other family guests about my aunt’s new neighbors. I sat in a big wooden chair just barely able to see above the table listening as my aunt clearly stated matter of factly, “I don’t know how they could let people like that move into my neighborhood.” For about 10 minutes, I tried to speak my six year old mind about how all people are equal in the eyes of God and that we all deserve to live wherever we wish. Finally, my squeaking was interrupted with my grandfather’s sharp look and his stern words of, “children should be seen and not heard.” Well, I had had it. I swallowed my food, raised my hand, and actually waited to be called on. My parents are both teachers and so it did not take them long to notice, and they called on me to speak. I looked at my aunt and back again towards my grandfather. I spoke in soft, distinct tones. “Those people,” I began, “Earn as much money as you or else they could not afford to live in your neighborhood. They have a dog and they always smile at me when I visit. I want to know why they would want to live near you. Conversation stopped. When something is significantly smaller than its surroundings, it is easy to overlook its importance or power. Such is the case in this week’s Torah portion, Vayikra. The aleph at the end of the first word is smaller than its surrounding letters, much like a six year old child at the family dinner table. What lesson can we learn from this strange sizing of letters? What does the miniscule aleph stand for and what secrets about us can it reveal? In order to understand the importance of the miniscule aleph, we must look both inside and outside of the text. Without the presence of the aleph, the first word of this parashah would be v’yikar, meaning “he chanced upon.” There is a huge difference between these two words. The Jewish scholar, Rashi, states that the word vayikra connotes a special love expressed from God to Moses. This love is echoed in Isaiah chapter 6, verse 3 where the ministering angels “call” to one another before praising God as it is written, “Vayikra zeh el zeh v’amar, kadosh kadosh kadosh.” Rashi teaches that this proves that to use the word vayikra, one connotes a wish to have a relationship with the other. However, Moses, being a humble man, did not feel that he had a right to have a relationship with God. Therefore, according to Rabbi Meir ben Baruch of Rothenburg, who is quoting the Ba’al Haturim, Moses did not want to write the aleph at all when transcribing the Torah. He wanted the first word of this parashah to be vayikar. Think of how different our perception of this week’s parashah would be if God had not “called to Moses,” deliberately choosing him to be our leader, but simply “happened upon him” out in the wilderness somewhere. The aleph’s mere existence changes dramatically the reading of this weeks’ parashah. But do people who are alephs realize their power? Many people, when feeling ignored, think about leaving the room altogether. But we learn from the miniscule aleph in Vayikra that their existence is vital to the happenings in that place and in the future. Like a child, the aleph is a small, seemingly insignificant letter. It’s a completely silent letter. So we are led to believe that the aleph’s only power is in changing the word vayikar to vayikra. But let’s look a little deeper. However the aleph has power all on its own. The aleph is the first letter of the aleph–bet. There is a rabbinic tradition of numbering letters according to their place in the aleph-bet. Gemmatria is used for many reasons, one of which is to reveal connections that may otherwise be overlooked. According to Gematria, this placement earns the aleph the numerical value of one. That is quite a significant number in Judaism – God is one, and we, the Israelites, are one people. The aleph is that one still small voice inside of us. It is the voice which commanded the six year old girl to speak of love. That small voice is inside of everyone, if we just take the time to notice it. Now, let’s take the time to look inside the aleph itself. An aleph is created by combining two yuds) and a vav. So, adding the gematria of the yuds and vvas make up the aleph, we find the number 26. God’s four letter name, whose pronunciation is secret, consists of one yud, two hays, and one vva. Add these letters together and we also get 26. So the mysterious, spiritual, four letter name of God equals 26, just like the components of the small, silent, seemingly invisible aleph. There will be times when each of us feels as though we are seen as “less than.” As women, many of us know this all too well. It is at those times that we must remember that the small aleph’s worth is bigger than its size leads us to believe. That small voice inside of us can be more effective than a hundred sermons from the bima. As a miniscule aleph, we can embody the wisdom of a six year old child. Like that child, we can stop harm in its tracks. As an aleph, we have the power to change a chance meeting into a calling for a relationship between us and the other. Rabbi Jaimee Shalhevet is Associate Rabbi of North Shore Synagogue in Syosset, NY.