Parashat Emor

Holiness, as described in the Book of Leviticus, is a rather dreary affair. It is directed mainly at priests, and their role serving in the sacred precinct of the Temple. But certain verses seem to have a double identity — they mean one thing in the specific context of priests and sacrifices, and something more fundamental when read outside that context. In Chapter 22, at the end of a detailed list of imperfections that disqualify first a priest and then a sacrificial animal, we find a verse that shapes rabbinic theology in profound ways. Verse 31 starts by saying “You shall observe My mitzvot and do them, I am God.” Already it is unclear whether this is talking about the rules for sacrifices in the preceding verses or is a general statement about loyalty to God’s Torah. Then verse 32: “Velo techalelu et shem kodshi v’nikdashti b’toch bnei yisrael;” “Do not desecrate My holy name, that I be made holy among the Israelites.” The question becomes much more urgent. What is it that would desecrate God’s name? How is God’s name to be sanctified? Is this a task only for priests or for everyone? 

The Rabbis expand the concepts that emerge from this verse, chilul hashem (desecrating the name) and kiddush hashem (sanctifying the name), to be almost all-encompassing. Not only priests, but any Jew may find themselves in the position of either honoring or dishonoring God’s name in the world. And they apply these categories to minor mitzvot and to the most major. The language of kiddush hashem is used to describe the daily rituals of communal prayer (like kaddish and the kedusha) and also heroic acts of self-sacrifice and martyrdom. We have the opportunity to sanctify God’s name in small, humble acts of devotion and in dramatic, life-altering moments of decision. 

The common thread that unites all of these commands is the phrase “among the Israelites.” It is the source for the rule that ten people comprise a minyan and also for the idea of the “Public Square,” in which our actions are no longer our private business but take on greater power and significance. When we pray and work together as a community our power to effect change is magnified. When we speak or act publicly, we do so (hopefully) with a greater sense of responsibility and care. Community is the space where we can feel that we are part of a sacred society. We are charged to rise up in defense of our community and to challenge it to rise to meet its lofty ideals.

Two years of the pandemic have deeply eroded that sense of connection. We have forgotten what it feels like to come together to pray, to debate, to laugh, and to build. It feels hard to venture back into those spaces, to get out of the house and rebuild our shared Home. But we often don’t fully appreciate how much we have lost by isolation and how important it is to recreate those shared spaces. Our communal spaces will look and feel different now, as they must. But we are reminded this week that it is only in community that we are truly able to bring holiness into the world. 

Shabbat shalom.