In this week’s parsha, Ki Tisa, we are introduced to a new vessel: “Make a laver of copper and a stand of copper for it — for washing; and place it between the Tent of Meeting and the altar,” and then “Put water in it.” The water will be used to wash the hands and feet of Aaron and his sons, the priests. The next verse ups the ante significantly, telling us that the priests must wash upon entering the Tent of Meeting “that they may not die.”
I have recently become obsessed with the idea of finding God in water, exploring texts that offer us different ways that water helps us encounter the divine. I have found texts about the ocean and about wells, about the primordial waters of creation and the mikveh waters of today. So naturally, I wonder about the water in our mishkan, or tabernacle, that fills this copper basin. I wonder about the shape and size of the basin. I wonder if the water was cold. And I wonder what makes the water so important that skipping the washing step would jeopardize the priests’ lives.
The verse tells us they must wash “their hands and feet.” Ibn Ezra explains that these limbs require washing because they “are the active parts of the body.” But Rashi is more focused on explaining how the ritual worked. Reading the words as a single unit, “hands and feet” together, Rashi says they washed both hands and feet simultaneously.
To understand exactly how it looked, he refers us back to the Talmud in Zevachim 19b, where the rabbis debate the strange choreography of this ritual. The sages describe how the priest “lays his right hand on top of his right foot, and his left hand on top of his left foot,” and the water is then poured over hand and foot together. But Rabbi Yosei, son of Rabbi Yehuda, sees it differently, telling us the priest “lays both his hands, one on top of the other — and then together on top of both his feet, one on top of the other,” and only then is the water poured over all four limbs.
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It’s fun to picture this scene. Were our priests playing an ancient game of holy Twister in the mishkan, delicately balancing on stacked feet and hands? I can almost imagine the priests standing in a circle, arms outstretched, preparing for their mishkan service like a sports team huddling before a big game, hand over hand in a pile before a communal cheer recited on the count of three.
Given that the sanctification must be done while standing, the choreography seems unreasonably tricky. And I am not the only one who thinks this image is a little too much. The Talmud responds to Rabbi Yosei, “You have gone too far; it is impossible to do so.” But Rav Yosef comes to his defense, and we can learn a lot from his simple response: “His fellow will support him.”
One purpose of ritual is to allow us to play out an ideal version of what we see and feel in our unideal lives. This has been a hard, very unideal week, especially in Israel. Jews who sought to prepare themselves for the events ahead wondered whether they should buy Purim costumes or canned goods, whether they should party or take shelter. Like the ancient priests, we too may feel we’ve twisted ourselves into unstable and unsustainable knots. Like the priests, we understand our lives to be at stake.
We can learn from Rav Yosef that even a demanding posture that requires what feels like contortion and might otherwise leave us flat on the floor is actually possible if we learn to support each other.
No priest can wash his own hands and feet alone. Perhaps this is the point. To prepare to act with their hands and their feet, the priests must first force both hands and both feet to be still. They must come to a full stop and allow their limbs to be washed. This stillness, this moment of balance, forces them to rely on support from someone else.
None of us can face this current moment alone. We, too, will need the support of a haver, a fellow, a friend, to keep our balance. Maybe we should follow the lead of the priests and force ourselves to slow down, still our hands and feet, and let something holy wash over us. Maybe even water. I think about all the ways that water is present in our lives today. We wash, we drink, we swim. How might we also use God as a tool to help ready us for the work ahead? How might we still ourselves? How might we rely on friends and support each other? Let’s take the time to ask these questions. Perhaps it will save our lives.
