Parashat Shemini 5784

People sometimes ask questions to rabbis in the form, “Is there any Jewish significance to the number [x],” or “Is it true that [x] is an important number in Judaism?” Of course, the answer is always “yes.” The Passover song Ehad Mi Yodeia, “Who Knows One?”, reminds us that every number from 1 to 13 has some special Jewish resonance, and one can imagine how the song could continue ad infinitum (14 are the lambs offered on each day of Sukkot; 15 are the Psalms of Ascents; etc.)

Only one Torah portion of the year has a name that makes reference to a number: Parashat Shemini, meaning “eighth.” Last week’s Torah portion concluded with a reference to the “seven days of ordination,” a seven-day period during the dedication of the Tabernacle during which the Kohanim were not to exit the Tent of Meeting. This week’s Torah portion begins with a reference to “yom hashmini,” “the eighth day,” after this seclusion period is complete.

Torah commentators connect this “eighth day” to other examples of special eighth days in the Torah. For example, the day following the Shabbat of Creation is also regarded as an “eighth day,” in that it is the day when the weekly seven-day cycle begins again and when human beings begin to co-create in the world together with God.

A perceptive midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 11:2) imagines Adam, the first human being, at nightfall at the conclusion of the first Shabbat, seeing the sun descend and fearing that the world would devolve into darkness. Instead of solving his problem for him, God gives him tools so that he can solve his problem himself. God gives Adam two flint stones, which he then bangs together to create sparks of light and then to create fire. In a creative anachronism, the Midrash says that Adam recited the blessing, Barukh…. borei me’orei ha-esh, “Blessed are You… who creates the lights of fire,” the same blessing that we recite on Saturday nights as part of the Havdalah ceremony. Saturday night is, after all, the beginning of Sunday on the Jewish calendar, which means it is the weekly anniversary of the first day of creation, when God created light. The eighth day, then, is in parallel with the first day, but operating at a different level: for the first seven days, God is in total control of the progress of creation, but on the eighth day, God shares the work of creation with humanity. God creates light on the first day, and human beings, in our own way, create light on the eighth day.

The eighth day also echoes the mitzvah of Brit Milah, the circumcision of baby boys that takes place on the eighth day. Here, too, one can see the eighth day as a symbol for the divine-human partnership, as the child is in a completely natural state until the eighth day at which human action transforms him.

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch’s 19th-century commentary to this passage suggests another way in which the number 8 seems equivalent to the number 1, but at a different level. In Western music, a scale has seven different notes, with the eighth note (the “octave”) being equivalent to the first note but at a higher or lower level. (Note, though, that today’s music historians doubt that ancient Israelite music was based on the number 8 as Western music is.)

Whether in the story of creation, or in this week’s Torah portion, the eighth day represents the day when human beings emerge from their seclusion and take on their active role in exercising some control over the world. But this day that represents the maturing of humanity also includes a tragic story. The centerpiece of Parashat Shemini is one of the few narrative passages in the entire Book of Leviticus. On the eighth day, Aaron’s two sons Nadav and Avihu unexpectedly die in the course of carrying out their priestly role. While explanations differ about the reasons for their death, perhaps one explanation is that the human autonomy and freedom represented by the eighth day is sometimes accompanied by danger. As we mature and make our own decisions, we are no longer shielded from the impact of the world as perhaps we once were. Parents know that letting their children grow up means no longer being able to protect their children from every discomfort and danger. And yet we generally encourage children, as they grow up, to emerge from seclusion and protection into greater autonomy and freedom, even though this process is not risk-free.

Ever since the seven days of creation concluded, we have been living in the Eighth Day world, with its blessings and its dangers, its uncertainties and its opportunities. Emerging from the seven days of seclusion and preparation entails a reduction of divine protection, but our tradition is confident that living as God’s partners is in fact a higher level of life.
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Rabbi Robert Scheinberg, Ph.D., is the Interim Rabbi in Residence at the Academy for Jewish Religion, where he teaches courses in Jewish Liturgy, as well as the Rabbi of the United Synagogue of Hoboken. Rabbi Scheinberg was a member of the editorial committees for Mahzor Lev Shalem and Siddur Lev Shalem, the prayer books used in many Conservative congregations.