Brokenheartedness as Offering: Learning from Lack as a Pathway to Peace
by Lior Gross
At the end of the last parasha, Pinchas, grandson of Aaron and priest, kills Zimri and Cosbi with a spear as they were having sex in the Ohel Moed, the place of Divine communication in the Mishkan complex, as the Israelites were in the wilderness. This week’s parasha begins with the Divine granting Pinchas a “brit shalom”, or covenant of peace [1].
Why would the Divine grant Pinchas a “brit shalom”?
This seems to have troubled our ancestors too, as Rabbi Sylvia Rothschild pointed out in her commentary on this parasha [2] - they divide the parshiyot right at the moment of Pinchas’ deed. In addition, in Sanhedrin 82a, the rabbis put the power of the action into the hands of the Divine by explaining several miracles that took place for Pinchas to take action.
Furthermore, in the Torah scroll, the vav in “shalom” of this phrase is cut into two by a diagonal channel – it instead looks like a long yud with another black vertical segment below and not touching the stem of the upper part.
Kiddusin 66b uses this scribal decision as the basis for rendering a priest with a mum unfit for service.
בַּעַל מוּם דַּעֲבוֹדָתוֹ פְּסוּלָה, מְנָלַן? אָמַר רַב יְהוּדָה אָמַר שְׁמוּאֵל: דְּאָמַר קְרָא: ״לָכֵן אֱמֹר הִנְנִי נֹתֵן לוֹ אֶת בְּרִיתִי שָׁלוֹם״ – כְּשֶׁהוּא שָׁלֵם וְלֹא כְּשֶׁהוּא חָסֵר. וְהָא ״שָׁלוֹם״ כְּתִיב! אָמַר רַב נַחְמָן: וָיו דְּשָׁלוֹם קְטִיעָה הִיא.
“From where do we derive that the service of one with a mum is invalid? Rav Yehuda says Shmuel says: As the verse says “Say: Behold, I give to him My covenant of peace [shalom]” (Numbers 25:12), when he is whole [shalem], but not when he is lacking. But shalom is written! Rav Naḥman says: Vav in shalom is severed/amputated.”
This source from the Talmud comes from a discussion about the role of witnesses in verifying sanctity. Uncertainty around sanctity of a mikveh is compared to a priest who is found to have a מוּם (mum), typically understood as blemish that renders a being unfit for ritual service, during their role as a priest. Does this retroactively annul all of the previous worship and sacrifice they did in that role? How can it be known when the מוּם was developed?
Also, if the severed vav leads to a reading of shalem, "wholeness", this seems to point to shalom as a wholeness that encompasses all the blemishes and broken pieces of us. Could this have indicated a lineage of priests not banned, but lifted up for their blemishes, instead?
What are the ways in which we need to seek new covenants to bring everyone along?
Shalom is not an emptiness, a lack of conflict, a vacuum of power and feelings and humanness that allows us to make peace. Sometimes “peace” can be equated with stillness, a feeling of calm and serenity. In meditation, something that I have learned is that peace is a constant process that is achieved not through stopping thoughts and distractions entirely, but instead noticing everything that arises with equanimity and allowing this compassionate posture to hold the allness of one’s inner and outer worlds. It is from this place of lovingkindness that devekut, cleaving to the Divine and emptying self of self, may become possible.
Indeed, shalom can be a state of dynamic equilibrium in which we allow for the fullness of our humanity, the multitudes we each contain, and all the ways in which we can create peace from conflict, disagreement, aversion, repulsion, disgust with one another again and again. This process of teshuva is key to creating a living peace, one that grows with us as we become beloved community to one another. What if the ways in which we approach a brit shalom are not understanding it as a reward for violence but instead a redirect of the zealous energy that led Pinchas to take it upon himself to administer what he thought was justice? Shalom could indicate a community in which we can rely upon one another, trust one another, and hold each other accountable, such that in the face of harm and rupture we need not resort to more violence. We all have ways in which we are like the vav in shalom in this part of the Torah – none of us are perfect, nor complete without the rest of our connections to Divine, each other, the Earth, and more. Interestingly, חסר (chaser) can mean “lack” in many ways, such as in the borei nefashot prayer, wherein we acknowledge the ways in which we were all created with interlocking needs [3].
In light of a brit shalom as a possible recognition of our wonderful and messy humanity, encompassing our multitudes and the ways in which we can hold it all with love, how can we understand the problematic exclusion of the priest with a mum? For example, when we are in need or feeling a lack in some way, does this make us or our offerings unfit, as indicated in the sugya above?
Vayikra Rabba 7 might say otherwise.
"אָמַר רַבִּי אַבָּא בַּר יוּדָן כָּל מַה שֶׁפָּסַל הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא בִּבְהֵמָה הִכְשִׁיר בְּאָדָם, פָּסַל בִּבְהֵמָה (ויקרא כב, כב): עֲוֶרֶת אוֹ שָׁבוּר אוֹ חָרוּץ אוֹ יַבֶּלֶת, וְהִכְשִׁיר בְּאָדָם (תהלים נא, יט): לֵב נִשְׁבָּר וְנִדְכֶּה. אָמַר רַבִּי אֲלֶכְּסַנְדְּרִי הַהֶדְיוֹט הַזֶּה אִם מְשַׁמֵּשׁ הוּא בְּכֵלִים שְׁבוּרִים גְּנַאי הוּא לוֹ, אֲבָל הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא כְּלֵי תַּשְׁמִישׁוֹ שְׁבוּרִים, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (תהלים לד, יט): קָרוֹב ה' לְנִשְׁבְּרֵי לֵב, (תהלים קמז, ג): הָרוֹפֵא לִשְׁבוּרֵי לֵב, (ישעיה נז, טו): וְאֶת דַּכָּא וּשְׁפַל רוּחַ.”
“Rabbi Abba bar Yudan said: Everything that the Holy One blessed be He deemed unfit in an animal He deemed fit in a person. He deemed unfit in an animal: “Blind, broken, maimed, or with a wart” (Leviticus 22:22), but He deemed fit in a person: “A broken and crushed heart” (Psalms 51:19).
Rabbi Alexandri said: The layman, if he uses broken utensils, it is demeaning for him. But the vessels of the Holy One blessed be He are broken, as it is stated: “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted” (Psalms 34:19); “He heals the brokenhearted” (Psalms 147:3); “[I dwell in the high and holy place, with] the downtrodden and the humble” (Isaiah 57:15).”
Indeed, the Zohar states “the King dwells in broken vessels: “To this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit” (Isa. 66: 2). “The Lord is near to those who are of a broken heart” (Ps. 34: 19): “A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise” (Ibid. 51: 19) [4]..”
What does service in the form of sacrifice mean in terms of a broken heart? According to the Zohar, (Zohar Mishpatim 108a) “sacrifices must be brought to the Name TETRAGRAMMATON, the attribute of Mercy, as this is the Name always mentioned in connection with the different kinds of sacrifices (Lev. 1, 2; II, 1; III, 6), but to the Name Elokim the only sacrifice that can be offered is a broken spirit and a sorrowful heart, as it is written, “The sacrifices of Elokim are a broken spirit.” (Psalms 51:19)” [emphasis added]
These writings seem to indicate that for the Holy Blessed One, we are as we are on purpose – imperfect, full of feelings, blemished, and yet still fit.
Another passage from the Zohar [5], on Parashat Pinchas, quotes Shir HaShirim 5:8,
“הִשְׁבַּ֥עְתִּי אֶתְכֶ֖ם בְּנ֣וֹת יְרוּשָׁלָ֑͏ִם אִֽם־תִּמְצְאוּ֙ אֶת־דּוֹדִ֔י מַה־תַּגִּ֣ידוּ ל֔וֹ שֶׁחוֹלַ֥ת אַהֲבָ֖ה אָֽנִי׃ ”
“I adjure you, O maidens of Jerusalem! If you meet my beloved, tell him this: That I am faint [lit. sick] with love.”
The Zohar here extends this metaphor to the people Israel, saying there is a need for a healer in order to measure the impact of the exile on the pulse of an ill person. It goes on to explain that the heartbeats of the ill person are the patterns of the shofar blasts – tekiah, shvarim, truah. These are the shofar blasts played on the holiest days of the year, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the blasts that call us back to who we are becoming, as we break ourselves open to begin again anew.
Shvarim can mean shattered, and as my chevruta Marisa said in our study of this passage, can represent a broken heart, such as in Psalm 147.
What can it mean for the Zohar to describe the people Israel as a person who is ill, whose heartbeats sound like the trembling of the voice of the shofar? Perhaps this liminal state is one of holiness, one of closeness to teshuva and the Divine. While as a chronically ill and disabled person I often feel the pain of exile in a world of ableist institutions, systems, and laws, I sometimes take the opportunity to lean into this sharpness to hone my sense of what is right and true. This brokenness I feel is not mine alone to hold or fix; it is a reflection of a world built to enact violence, a world which, I believe, it is possible to dream beyond [6].
There is so much to be brokenhearted about in the world today. We may see this brokenheartedness as a mum or a חסר (chaser/lack); however, our tradition seems to be encouraging us to let ourselves experience it to whatever fullness we can allow and hold, and even allow ourselves to see the shattering as making us more whole for having experienced it. Like the vessels shattered at the beginning of creation, [7] we feel the strain of the light moving through us to create a world that is oriented towards aliveness and love, a world built from the shards and the cracks [8].
Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk taught, “There is nothing so whole as a broken heart” "אין שלם מלב שבור" . The Kotzker Rebbe uses the words shalem and shivur that are used in the passages above. The shofar and its plaintive call can represent this oscillation of teshuva, brokenness and wholeness, the pulse of return and exile. At the same time, Proverbs teaches that the heart alone knows its own bitterness, and none strange to it may cross over into the world of its joy [9]. The Talmud expounds upon this with regards to fasting on Yom Kippur for one who is ill, explaining that the person who is suffering knows themselves better than one hundred doctors if the person who is ill feels they need to eat and the doctors disagree [10]. There is a beautiful synergy between this Chassidic teaching and our ancient texts in terms of our tradition’s understanding of the capacity of the heart to feel and discern. A broken heart and a heart experiencing bitterness can be our guides, and we are each the experts of our own experiences.
Elsewhere in our tradition, we may encounter texts that seek to praise suffering as a purifying force. For example, Rabbi Shmuel Bornsztain of Sochatchov wrote in the Shem MiShmuel, Rosh Hashanah 13:
"והנה ענין התקיעות היא לב נשבר גנוחי גנח ילולי יליל כמו החולים שגונחין או כמו המייליל על מתו, והיינו שהאדם רואה א"ע כאילו כבר אפסו כוחותיו בחליו או כאילו כבר מת באפס תקוה, והרי הוא נטהר בשבירת לבו כענין כלי חרס ששבירתן מטהרתן"
“And the content of the blowing of the shofar is a broken heart - moaning, wailing, like sick people moan or like one wails about his dead. And that is that a person sees himself as if his powers have already disappeared due to his sickness, or as if he has already died and has no hope. But behold he is purified by the breaking of his heart, like the matter of a clay vessel, which is purified by breaking it.” [emphasis added]
The parallel between the sound of the shofar and the broken heart, as well as the analogy drawn between the sick person, the mourner, and the shofar’s sound, demonstrate that there can be a common soundtrack to our hardest moments, one of wailing and grief and suffering, that need not be reduced, ignored, or quieted. Another part of this could be that we are not whole in spite of our brokenness, but because of it.
For some people, the experiences of illness, brokenheartedness, grief, and suffering may offer a sense of clarity, connection to something greater, surrender, and trust; for other people, these experiences may do the opposite, or something completely different. Brokenheartedness is but one of many functions of the heart [11] and one of many forms of prayer [12].
This is not to say that we need to become broken in order to be more whole, nor do I mean to valorize the difficult narrow straits of human experience as some sort of blasé inspiration or spiritual bypassing through toxic positivity. Instead, I mean to bear witness to the profound suffering that is part of the present human condition while condemning the systems and institutions and attitudes of disposability and exploitation and extraction that have made it so and while celebrating disabled and chronically ill community, ingenuity, resilience, joy, laughter, and pleasure.
To be disabled in a society informed heavily by eugenics and fascism, in an ongoing pandemic, in a world witnessing the mass disabling events of war and climate crisis, is often to be brokenhearted. To encounter the violent zealotry of Pinchas on the page and in our communities is to often be shattered in spirit. To wonder about the possibilities of wholeness and peace emerging from these depths of despair is an offering on the altar with our broken hearts to the Divine aspect of mercy, crying in tears and screams of joy and sorrow, “None of us are disposable!”
The violence of ableism in our texts is still ongoing. And at the same time, we, along with our ancestors, are constantly uncovering a Torah that is shalom and shalem, shivur and chaser, and, according to Rabbi Nachman of Breslov, we are precious to the Divine in and for all of our brokenheartedness [13]. We know that it is holy and sacred and important, and also not the entirety of who we are.
Given our ongoing struggle for a more just world, what does it mean that the Divine is near to the brokenhearted? What can this mean in light of our redefinition of brit shalom?
I believe that we can orient to a brit shalom that makes space for accountability, teshuva, and holy practices that draw us closer to each other, ourselves, and the Divine. In doing so, we may make room for a new avenue to channel our brokenheartedness, our zealotry, our despair and anger and joy, a channel that holds the complexity of this beautiful path of being human in our interconnectedness and messiness and need for each other in all of our multitudes.
When we come together in this way, in acknowledgment of the pain and process and lacks, we need not smooth over the grief. Instead, it can be our guide to a world renewed, in which a broken heart whose heartbeats echo exile can indeed be understood as whole and holy at the highest level.
Footnotes:
Numbers 25:12
Zohar Yitro 86b
Zohar, Pinchas 217b
Eli Clare extrapolates upon this in his book Exile and Pride.
According to Lurianic Kabbalah, during this iteration of creation, Divine light was poured into vessels until the vessels shattered. The remnants of those vessels became our physical reality and the light was embedded as sacred sparks in our world, to be uncovered, experienced, and lifted by us. As we go through difficult experiences, we have the opportunity to access higher, brighter sparks and restore them.
As Bayo Akomolafe puts it, “cracks, those openings, those places where the modern subject is disturbed, shaken off its course a little bit, those incapacitating, debilitating moments, disabling moments are actually gifts. They're openings. Through one cosmic vision that I operate in, the world of healing looks nothing like getting well. It's not about getting well or being perfect, it's about being in touch, right? It's about touching openings and staying in cracks when they open and when they call out to you.” (https://www.bayoakomolafe.net/post/a-meandering-search-for-method-in-a-posthuman-world)
לֵ֗ב י֭וֹדֵעַ מׇרַּ֣ת נַפְשׁ֑וֹ וּ֝בְשִׂמְחָת֗וֹ לֹא־יִתְעָ֥רַב זָֽר׃ Proverbs 14:10
Yoma 83a
Kohelet Rabbah 1:16
Devarim Rabbah 2
Likkutei Etzot, Hitbodedut 23
Lior Gross (they/them) is learning to listen to the rhythms of the places they call home. They are a co-founder of the Nonbinary Hebrew Project, a rabbinical student at Hebrew Seminary, and have been shaped by learning and community in Shomeret Shalom, SVARA's Gemirna Kollel, Taproot's Immersion, IJS & Or HaLev's Yesod and Tiferet programs, and JOIN for Justice's Empower Fellowship.
