Polar Bears in Sinai? V 2.0
A Deeper Reflection on Parashas Shemini
After ten chapters of detailed halachos about korbanos, Sefer Vayikra takes a sudden turn. Perek 11 shifts the focus to what’s on your plate, to which animals are allowed to be eaten.
At first glance, it seems like a change of subject. But is it?
In the early part of the Perek, Hashem instructs Moshe to tell the Bnei Yisrael, 'These are the creatures that you may eat from...'1 Rashi explains that Moshe physically showed each animal to clarify which ones he was talking about. The Gemara2 adds that Hashem showed every animal to Moshe. This raises questions: Were there animals like polar bears and penguins in the hot desert? What about the fish? How could Moshe access every type of animal there? And what exactly does it mean that Hashem showed each animal to Moshe?
Some suggest that the Torah only lists animals native to the Land of Israel or the desert. It's possible that some of these animals no longer exist or have since migrated to other places.3
Let's explore this idea further, perhaps in a more mystical dimension. The Hafla’ah4 offers a fascinating suggestion. He suggests that, in reality, Hashem did not physically pick up the animals, nor did Moshe have access to every animal while in the desert. Rather, Hashem showed Moshe an image of each animal as a fiery shape.5 This is similar to how Hashem showed Moshe the half-shekel and the menorah, through images made of fire. The Haflaah further explains that this fire might symbolize the root essence of each animal's existence on Earth. In fact, fire is the root essence of each creature’s existence. This would imply that Moshe was not shown every individual species and subspecies, but rather the common ancestor of each animal group.
Why did Hashem need to show Moshe which foods were permissible and which weren't through fiery images? Does this place our food on the same level of significance as the Menorah and the Shekel? Furthermore, at the end of the perek, the Torah explains the reason for forbidding certain foods by saying, 'For I am Hashem who lifted from the depths of Mitzrayim.'
The Pasuk reads:
אל־תשקצו את־נפשתיכם בכל־השרץ השרץ… כי אני ה’ אלהיכם והתקדשתם והייתם קדשים כי קדוש אני… כי אני ה’ המעלה אתכם מארץ מצרים להית לכם לאלהים והייתם קדשים כי קדוש אני
'You shall not make yourselves abominable with any creeping thing that creeps… for I am Hashem your God: you shall therefore sanctify yourselves, and you shall be holy; for I am holy… for I the Lord am He who lifted you up from the depths of Mitzrayim to be your God: you shall therefore be holy, for I am holy.'6
Many mitzvos reference the Exodus from Egypt, often using the terminology 'I took you out from Mitzrayim.' Why, in the context of dietary laws, does the Torah switch to 'raising you up'? Why wasn’t this term used when discussing the construction of the Mishkan, which seems to be a pinnacle of the redemption from Egypt? Why is it that this particular expression is used for the seemingly less significant laws about food?
Rashi also seems puzzled by this and refers us to Chazal7, who explain that Hashem is indicating that if the only reason He brought the children of Israel up from Mitzrayim was so they would not consume creepy crawlers like the rest of the nations, this alone would have been enough.
Let's explore this on a deeper level, as suggested by Rav Moti Elon8. He gives a captivating explanation: The Geula from Mitzrayim was meant to return us to the state of Adam HaRishon in Gan Eden before he ate from the Etz HaDaas. In Gan Eden, Adam had two primary responsibilities. First, he named all elements of creation, transforming them from mere physical matter into vessels for the Shechina. His second task was to eat with the directive that he should not consume from the Etz HaDaas. Much like the way the names he gave to creatures transformed and elevated them from mere matter, when Adam made a berachah over his food, he similarly transformed and elevated it from mundane to spiritual. Through this act, he reconnected the food to its spiritual source.
Eating is fundamentally about elevation. When we constructed the Mishkan, the Torah referenced Hashem taking us out of Mitzrayim. In contrast, when we're commanded not to eat impure animals, the Torah refers to Hashem elevating us from the impurities of Mitzrayim. This elevation brings us back to our spiritual essence.
The same concept applies to the half-shekel, revealed in fire, which symbolizes our elevation during the census of Bnei Yisrael.9 Through taking part in being counted, we connected to our spiritual roots.10 Similarly, the menorah embodies this idea of elevation, as the pasuk says בהעלתך את־הנרת. Rashi notes that Aharon had to ensure the flames were rising upward – perhaps symbolizing the connection and elevation of earthly spirituality to its heavenly origins.
Whenever something spiritual manifests on Earth, it often appears as fire. For instance, at Har Sinai, Hashem descended in fire. In the burning bush, the Malach Hashem appeared in the flame. Fire, as seen earlier in the Parsha with Nadav and Avihu's death, is a form of spiritual matter.
Thus, elevating the mundane to a level of spirituality is not a process easily depicted on paper; it requires a spiritual component. It must be shown with fire, for fire is its very essence.
We’ve just left Pesach behind, the season of our geulah, when we retold the story of Yetzias Mitzrayim and relived it—through eating.
Rav Tzadok HaKohen teaches11 that on this night, we are a little like Adam Harishon. By the seder, we don't just make a beracha on the food we eat; we make a beracha on the very act of eating itself. The beracha on Achilas Matza elevates all the times we've eaten bread throughout the year to its spiritual essence. Similarly, with the beracha on Maror, we elevate all the vegetables and plants we've consumed. Regarding the Pesach, we do not make a beracha on the actual food, as we cannot bring the Korban Pesach today. However, we pray that we will merit to eat from the Zvachim and the Pesachim in the future, thereby elevating everything we consume.
The Geula from Mitzrayim did not reach its ultimate realization with the building of the Mishkan, nor with the Korbanos on the Mizbeach, even though they were consumed by heavenly fire. At that time, we were still at the stage of being taken out of Mitzrayim. It was only when we received the commandments regarding the purity and impurity of what we eat that we truly attained a higher level of being lifted up from Mitzrayim.
Nadav and Avihu sought to complete the tikkun through fire alone, reaching too high, too fast. But their fire wasn’t grounded—it consumed them instead of elevating them. Through eating with sanctity, we can achieve the tikkun they could not—by elevating the physical, using our bodies to refine our souls. What they tried to grasp in a moment, we are meant to build slowly, bite by bite.
Rav Kook writes12 that in the time of redemption, every flaw will be repaired, and creation will return to its original state. The bitterness of life will turn sweet, and the distance between means and ends will dissolve—the taste of the tree will be like the taste of the fruit. This isn’t about halachah changing; it is about the world itself being transformed, refined, uplifted.
Perhaps then, even the way we consume will shift. Not only what we eat, but how we experience the world—our bodies, our senses, our desires—will align more fully with the deepest truths of the soul. The boundaries between the permitted and forbidden will no longer center on restraint, but on clarity. Not because halachah changes, rather because we do.
Modern science, too, has begun to uncover that eating is far more than a physical act. I recently read The Mind-Gut Connection, where Dr. Emeran Mayer explains that our digestive system is intricately linked to our brain and emotional well-being. The gut, often called the "second brain," not only processes food—it influences our mood, thoughts, and even sense of self.
Dr. Mayer shows how what we consume can either nourish or disrupt this delicate balance, affecting everything from immune function to anxiety levels. The Torah’s emphasis on kedushah in eating—avoiding impure or harmful foods—is not solely about spiritual alignment; it resonates with these biological truths. The food we eat shapes our inner world, both spiritually and physically.
When Hashem "raised us up from Mitzrayim," He wasn’t only lifting us spiritually. He was guiding us toward a life where even the most basic act—eating—refines both body and soul. Just as fire represents transformation, the digestive "fire" within us turns the physical into energy and life. What we eat becomes part of who we are, influencing not only our health, but also our clarity, sensitivity, and connection to Hashem.
This deeper awareness calls us to elevate not only what we eat, but how we relate to eating itself. Each bite is a chance to reconnect—to align body, mind, and soul toward kedushah. Holiness isn’t found merely in the food itself, but in how it shapes us from within. Each bite doesn’t simply feed us—it forms us, bringing the tikkun we so deeply seek.
The fire that consumed Nadav and Avihu, the fire that shaped our food, and the fire within us—each burns with the same truth: Geulah comes not through seeking the extraordinary, but through elevating the everyday.
Vayikra 11;2
Chullin 42a
Rabbi Natan Slifkin, The Torah Encyclopedia of the Animal Kingdom
Panim Yafos, Shemini
See also Menachos 29a
Vayikra 11;43-45
Bava Metzia 61
Techeiles Mordechai, Shemini
Rashi on Bava Basra 10b
Rav Moshe Dovid Vali, Ki Tisa
Es L’Echol, 10
Oros HaTeshuvah 6
Beautiful!!!