Thursday, May 12, 2016

K’doshim (holy people) Leviticus / Vayikra 19:1 – 20:27

K’doshim (holy people)     Leviticus / Vayikra 19:1 – 20:27
parasha #6 – Lev. 20:33 – 37

            Love your neighbor as you love yourself.  To me, this, the second greatest of the commandments as determined by Yeshua, is a valid summary of these few verses.  In actuality, besides the lesson/instruction of obedience presented by the One Who is above all in this week’s parashiot, this second great commandment can also be seen within the whole of the readings.
            We are not to treat the foreigner as “less than.”  We are instructed to love him as we love ourselves.  Why?  Because we were foreigners in the land of Egypt.  We, even those of us who are grafted in are grafted in to that which occurred to our “adoptive” ancestors.  After all, do not those who come to our country and obtain their citizenship for the right reasons have as much right as we do to celebrate the Fourth of July?
            Also, if we are depending upon HaShem to provide us with our every need – not want, why would we have any cause to use unjust weights, be they physical or philosophical, against our fellow citizens?  Would we desire unjust weights to be used against us?
            Lastly in regards to the whole of this week’s readings, I received an email from a rabbi regarding holiness, and I am going to share with you a significant portion of that mailing below.

            Hi folks, it's Rabbi Fohrman here. I wanted to take a few minutes to wish you a joyous Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israel Independence Day. If you’ve been watching some of the Vayikra videos being put out by David and Imu as part of Aleph Beta’s “Parsha Experiment” series, you know that they’ve been working to articulate a vision of kedusha, holiness, as it wends its way throughout Sefer Vayikra, the Book of Leviticus. Holiness, of course, is a loaded word; there is perhaps no term more closely associated with spirituality or religion than this – and at the same time, no term that is quite so mysterious, no term that evades definition quite so deftly. Of what is holiness made of? 
            My own feeling is that kedusha, as it presents itself in the Torah, seems to suggest a melding of two almost impossibly different worlds: This world and a world beyond. God belongs to another world. His Presence is not a thing we can touch or feel; our senses cannot apprehend Him. He is  transcendent, in the sense that He is quite literally “beyond our world”. We relate to Him, even as we live in our world – a concrete world of space and time, of things, animals and people; a world our senses are geared to apprehend; a world far more familiar to us. 
            What, then, is kedusha? It is, in a nutshell, “transcendence made imminent”. It is the Venn Diagram that charts the intersection of God, the ultimate transcendent Being, and our very own concrete world. When God shows Himself, as it were, in our world – we call that phenomenon “holiness”. 
            Thus: Moses is told to take off his shoes at the Burning Bush because the ground is holy. Israel can’t touch the mountain at Sinai because it is holy.  What made these places “holy”? It was the fact that God was intersecting with the world in those places. The bush was burning but not consumed because the fire wasn’t earthly fire. Rather, the fire came from heaven; the wood was just the vehicle upon which the fire rested; it was not the fire’s source, and therefore, it did not burn. The mountain would burn at Sinai but the mountain too would not be consumed. The fire didn’t come from the mountain; the fire came from Heaven. 
            Our tradition teaches, us that there are less obvious manifestations of holiness in the world, too. It doesn’t take a burning Sinai or a burning Bush to have holiness in our lives. Sefer Vayikra bids us all to be “holy” – which suggests, perhaps, that we, all of us, can be that little middle sliver of the Venn Diagram that charts the intersection of godliness in our world. We   can be vehicles for that in how we lead our lives, both personally, and communally. Sometimes this happens intentionally: we are vehicles for godliness in the world because we intend to bring God into the world. Sometimes it happens despite ourselves: We become vehicles for God’s design unknowingly, whether we like it or not. And sometimes, the reality is somewhere in between: we think we are living our lives all by ourselves, only to discover that God has been alongside us, all along. 
            I think that we, as a nation, experienced a moment of holiness -- of transcendence made imminent -- 68 years ago in the Birth of the State of Israel. When I look back at the newsreels of the time, the dancing in the   streets, in which old and young, Labor Zionists and chareidim, joined hands to celebrate raucously together – the one palpable feeling I had     was that this was a moment when everyone seemed to see God in the   world. The ineffable, the “tangent to the curve of our existence”, the            Master of the Universe Himself, seemed to actually intersect the circle of our existence, in a moment of dazzling glory. Yes, the Haganah fighters were concrete people. You could touch and feel the arms they bore. The United Nations that voted for partition was an earthly, concrete institution.  But all those concrete things and people, somehow, they were all just the vehicles. The day was about transcendence; transcendence made imminent. 
            For those of you looking for a little Yom HaAtzma’ut inspiration, I recommend you take a peek at a series we put out this year that             addresses these themes pretty powerfully. It is a four video piece that       looks at some of the deeper themes of Chanukah. As I suggest in the fourth video in that series, the ideas are relevant not only to how we celebrate Chanukah, but also, to how we look upon the mystery of Divine involvement with our actions more broadly, and particularly, with reference to the modern State of Israel. 
            Here is that series, if you’d like to take a look:

            To me these are very interesting thoughts that Rabbi Fohrman is presenting, and they are going to be dancing around my cranium as I look at myself and analyze whether I am as effective a conduit for His kedusha to be revealed to my neighbors as I would like to be, despite my many failings.  My heart must be checked, and the measure I use on my own heart had better be the measure I use regarding others, even though I cannot “see” their hearts.  The mercy I want for myself, though, that I had better want for them also.
Wishing you kedusha and shalom from Him Who is the Source,


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