Gathering the Exiles vs Sending Away the Mother Bird
A hashgacha story and why the two subjects are related
On 12 Menachem-Av 5778 (24 July 2018), my rabbis officiated my conversion to Judaism. Shortly before that, during a meeting with the rabbis, I was asked to describe the fulfilment of the commandment of sending away the mother bird. For a whole year, whenever I would think back on the question, I was perplexed as to why my Rav picked such a rarely fulfilled mitzvah for a question. I wondered if I would even ever have a chance to perform it.
Barely a year later, of all the days of Tammuz this year, I deliberately chose 24 July as my aliyah flight date, so I could make a mental connection between the two milestones. On 22 Tamuz 5779 (24–25 July 2019), I made aliyah and moved into my room in a Hebrew Ulpan. It was a great joy to be able to be part of the national fulfilment of the verse, ‘ושבו בנים לגבולם’ — “and your children will return to their own territory”, but partly due to the caution we exercise upon making the blessing of shehecheyanu over joyous occasions during the Three Weeks, I made that blessing without using shem Hashem.
However, that did not at all detract from the joy; in fact, I was immediately given the opportunity to fulfil another mitzvah I had never had a chance (as most Jews in modern days) to fulfil: Shiluach haken, the Biblical commandment of sending away a mother bird from its nest to take the young, ‘למען ייטב לך והארכת ימים’ — “so that it should be good for you, and you should lengthen your days”.
I checked into the Ulpan straight from my aliyah flight. After arriving in my room, I noticed a pair of doves hopping around the window by my bed. I went out for a few hours, and upon returning from the Western Wall where my friend and I expressed our anticipation for the rebuilding of the Holy Temple, on 23 Tammuz at night, lo and behold — there was the mother bird roosting her egg right by my bed! The prerequisites for fulfilling the commandment seemed to be there: Usually, the dove roosting at night is the mother; it was a kosher bird species as far as I could identify; there was an egg; the nest was possibly hefker as it rested on the property of the semi-public Jewish Agency Ulpan. With due excitement at this rare opportunity, I sent away the mother bird.
After all the action and commotion, I started to ponder over why Hashem would give me this opportunity shortly upon my aliyah. Could there have been a correlation to making aliyah? It was a special mitzvah, granted, but one that many struggle to grapple with in rational terms in the first place. While I have just left my biological family and possibly caused them emotional pain, aside from shiluach haken, the only other commandment for which the “lengthening of your days” is queerly Biblically stated is that of honouring our parents “כבד את אביך ואת אמך למען יארכון ימיך על האדמה אשר ה’ אלהיך נתן לך” — “honour your father and your mother, that your days will be long on the land that the L-rd your G-d bestows you”. The more I thought about this, the more ironic it seemed. Indeed, it is relayed in the Midrash that the angels cried out to G-d, “the mother bird is suffering! Why did You command men to do this?” Then there are those who sharply ask me, “how could you leave your family?” I felt almost cruel.
Rabbeinu Bechayei explains that it is compassionate to have regard to the bird’s continuity and not eradicate a species by taking both the mother bird and her eggs, and to send away the mother so in theory, she would not have to bear the sight of her eggs being taken. The Ramban points out that the trait of compassion is what the commandment helps instill in us.
Then I read an inspiring alternative idea from Roy S. Neuberger — that [when the “nest” being our Holy Temple is destroyed and the children being the Jewish people are in exile, our “mother bird”, G-d’s Divine Presence, suffers.] The mitzvah stirs us to awareness of the grievance. As we make aliyah as part of the ingathering of the exiles, we take part in comforting the “Mother Bird”.
I recall that at the beginning of my aliyah flight, the difficulty of having to move multiple time zones away from my parents sank in. Yet, for the continuity of my personal acquisition of the Torah and as part of the nation of Israel, I felt it was both only reasonable and incumbent upon myself to settle in our homeland. It turned out that suppressing my natural connection towards my parents in favour of a more far-reaching vision of continuity falls in the footsteps of all converts’ halachic and spiritual parents: Abraham and Sarah, who left their hometowns for a greater spiritual vision. As such, the irony is almost a consolation — I may have felt that I was deprived of the opportunity to fulfil the mitzvah of honouring my parents, but I hope that as drops of water may pierce a rock, so does my effort join with klal Israel’s effort towards comforting our national Parent, the “Mother Bird”.
Ms. Menucha Chwat, my teacher, said beautifully that it was as if since I had left my parents’ home (my “nest”) to return to Israel (where I do not yet have any family), and Hashem sent me this aliyah gift. While it was written of shliuach haken “so that your days will be lengthened,”, similarly, of living in Israel it is written ‘למען ירבו ימיכם וימי בניכם על האדמה אשר נשבע ה’ לאבתיכם לתת להם כימי השמים על הארץ’ — “so that your days will be multiplied, also that of your children, upon the land that the L-rd swore to your forefathers to give to them as the days of the Heavens are upon the earth” (parshas Eikev).
I could not help but relate that as we effect an awakening from below, G-d effects an awakening from above — as written in the Song of Songs, ‘אני לדודי ודודי לי’ — “I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me”.
There should be many opportunities for our nation to effect awakening from below, to return to the Land of our forefathers for as long as the days of the Heavens are upon the earth, to rebuild the eternal Holy Temple, and to comfort the Divine Presence.
