Facebook Post by Rabbi Perlin in the Time of Coronavirus (4/12/2020)
Sunday Post 4/12/20: Shomeir Negiah: No Touching
by Rabbi Amy R. Perlin, D.D.
My grandchildren are coming today! We are going to be their big adventure out in these days of pandemic isolation. They will get in the car in Washington, D.C. and drive to the wilderness of Virginia. I am sure after a month at home, their parents would love to leave them here, as is often customary with their trips to Virginia, but today is going to be a very different kind of visit. For the first time in all of our lives, I won’t be able to touch them. No hugs, no kisses, no cuddles. We will walk at least six feet apart, which isn’t hard out here in the woods, and then we are preparing a hamburger, Kosher for Passover lunch, that they will either eat as a take-out picnic or at our kitchen table with us far away. Luckily the kitchen is so big in this house that we can be 18 feet away and still be in the same room. It is not ideal, but it is so much better than our daily Facetime or Zoom – to actually see those adorable punims (faces) in person and be able to have a real conversation face to face. And it will be good to see their parents, too.
Based on some of the prohibitions in Leviticus 18, Jewish Law developed a concept of “Shomeir Negiah” – literally: “observant of touch.” In principle, it is a restriction of physical contact between men and women, which Maimonides (born in 1138) and the Shulchan Aruch (published 1565) both describe as a restriction of “hugging, kissing, or enjoying close physical contact.” It is this concept that comes to mind now, as we social distance and isolate ourselves in ways we have never seen before. The “Shomeir Negiah” prohibitions might be used today to describe how we co-exist with one another, “Mindful and observant of Touch,” we don’t hug, kiss, or enjoy physical contact. But, for us, the restrictions are strictly to save lives.
As loved ones are separated by the walls and windows of nursing homes and hospitals, we see this prohibition to touch or have physical contact as the cruelest reality of this pandemic. As RV owners donate the use of their vehicles to doctors, nurses, and medical professionals so that they can live near home, but not put their loved ones at risk, we see “Shomeir Negiah” as an act of love and self-sacrifice.
Maybe not today or tomorrow, or even a month from now, but someday, God-willing, I will be able to hug and kiss my grandchildren again. But, for today, I will be content with a modified visit, which will warm my heart and feed my lonely soul.
Lunch bags for visit with Kp cookies.