Parshas Acharei Mos – Kedoshim: Embrace Life

Dedicated to a refuah sheima for Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta and Sharon bas Shoshana.

This week’s parsha is Parshas Acharei Mos Kedushim. It is well known that this double parsha has an incredible number of mitvos in it. Many of these mitzvos make perfect sense to us, such as revering our parents and not swearing falsely. Others need a little more explanation. Like most things in the Torah, however, taking a deeper look at these mitzvos, reading the parsha from a different angle – so to speak, provides a new perspective on the world.

 

One law that does not appear to need explanation is “Anyone among the Israelites, or among the strangers residing in Israel, who gives any offspring to Molech, shall be put to death; the people of the land shall pelt the person with stones…” (Vayikra 20:2). Molech was the deity figure of a cultish religion in the region of Israel. The followers of Molech practiced child sacrifice; they sent their children into the flames.

 

It is fair to say that it is inconceivable to us today that someone would sacrifice a child, that people would join a cult that specifically required one to burn a child to death. Children are the future.

 

Actually, Jewish tradition is intriguingly bi-lateral: On the one hand, we believe that our elders and those who came before us are closer to Torah and are to be given absolute respect. As it says, also in this week’s parsha: “You shall rise before the aged and show deference to the old; you shall fear your God: I am Hashem” (Leviticus 19:32).

 

On the other hand…Well, don’t get in the way of a Jewish mother… so many of our halachos are focused on teaching our children and preparing them for the future. Every child is a bracha, a gift from Hashem, so how is it possible that anyone would be tempted to join a cult that glorifies killing children?

 

The answer is zealotry. Misdirected zealotry turns people into monsters. The Torah has made clear that Hashem wants people to celebrate life, not death. And we see this distinction even in modern times. Think of the famous Golda Meir quote: “We will only have peace with the Arabs when they love their children more than they hate us.” Far too many young people have died in the last year and a half conflict, and we – as a nation – grieve every death, even as our enemies embrace it.

 

Zealotry leads one to embrace a death cult; perhaps such drive stems from an insatiable desire to prove one’s fervor, to demonstrate one’s righteousness. Perhaps it is a drive that comes from wanting to experience a tangible sacrifice, something one can always hold on to and announce how loyal one is, what one was willing to sacrifice. Yet, as we learned in the recent parshios and as is vaguely referenced in the title Acharei Mos, Hashem does not want uncalled for offerings.

 

What happens when one “wakes up” from zealotry, when one calms and looks to move forward in life. If one acted like a zealot but followed one’s own council, then the next step might be regret. If one acted like a zealot and offered one’s child to the powerless false god of Molech, then one might feel anguished over the possibility destroyed.

 

And now, if you think about it, it makes sense that the 4 pasukim in Vayikra 20 that are stressing the prohibilion against Molech are followed immediately by, “And if any person turns to ghosts and familiar spirits and goes astray after them, I will set My face against that person, whom I will cut off from among the people” (20:6). We often find connections between side-by-side passukim, so how does turning to ghosts and familiars connect to Molech? Perhaps this pasuk is alluding to causing death and regretting it. Perhaps these two verses are set against each other because when the mania of zealotry comes down, one may be so bereft as to seek out the dead.

 

Interestingly, Vayikra 20:6 is not the only place in the parsha where ghosts are mentioned. Just before the Torah enjoins us to rise before the aged, as quoted before, there is a verse that is oddly similar to Vayikra 20:6. Vayikra 19:31 reads: “Do not turn to ghosts and do not inquire of familiar spirits, to be defiled by them: I Hashem am your God.”

 

The two passukim are remarkably similar. The earlier verse, however, commands one not to consult ghosts or familiars, while the later verse fiercely describes the consequences of doing so. The warning, verse 19:31, precedes the injunction to honor the aged. Together, these two verse could be understood with the message of “Stop looking to those who have passed, to the generations no longer accessible, and see the treasure you have before you in the men and women of age and wisdom.” The verse of consequence, when paired with the warnings against Molech that precede it, is, perhaps, a cautioning from Hashem that their actions are not reversible. Sacrifice is sacrifice.

 

When you put these two topic pairings together, you come up with one definitive fact (other than ghosts are a no-no). Judaism is about life and living. We value life; we value the potential of life in all children, and we value the experience of life in those who have lived longest. The parsha of Kedoshim is a parsha dedicated to being holy - and the way to be holy is to truly live.

Parshas Acharei Mos: Wandering Thoughts on Civilization

The dictionary definition of the term “civilization” is, in my opinion, rather funny. According to Oxford Words, it means: “The stage of human social and cultural development and organization that is considered most advanced.” Why is this funny? Because it is based on an incredibly subjective reality. Who, after all, gets to determine what “advanced” means? And yet, for centuries Western “Civilization” has done just that.

 

Perhaps the decline started during the era of the enlightenment, but many would say that it accelerated in the 1960s, when the concept of free expression transformed into a cult of personal liberation. Over the last half a century, however, there has been an increased whittling away at tradition and community that has led to a society in which the adulation of “freedom” has become the be all and end all. This is certainly not everyone – quite probably not even the majority – but it is a voluble minority filled with news makers and cultural idols.

 

We have just completed the holiday of Pesach, the holiday of freedom. Our concept of freedom, however, is not about celebrating our individual identities. It’s not about what “I” want or who “I” am above all other things. This is, in fact, a major aspect of this week’s parsha, Parshas Acharei Mot.”

 

Breaking into personal honesty here, this has always been a parsha that made me uncomfortable. In fact, it was one of my son’s bar mitzvah parshas, and I remember worrying that one of the other children had read it too closely (and, indeed, she did tell me that she read it in English, but asked no further questions). An entire perek of the parsha, perek yud ches, is a description of whose nakedness one shall not uncover. On the whole, it is a summation of the Torah’s prohibition against incest, but it goes farther than that. How we behave in our most intimate moments is a basic foundation of a society.

 

The fact that I felt uncomfortable with this perek was a reflection of many things, and among them was the understanding that the general society in which I was raised was filled with an ever-growing counter-culture that abhors the idea of personal limitations. The 21^st century mores of personal rightness make sense in an advanced technological “civilization” wherein we have a sense of being able to control all things. We “make” meat without a cow. We grow plants without dirt. We build machines that can think. Why would we accept ancient dictates of right and wrong when we obviously know better?

 

Our so-called advanced civilization appears, right now, to be calling for support of terrorist organizations. There is a masochistic urge to support ideologies that diametrically oppose Western Civilization. Our society rejects itself and, particularly among young adults, there seems to be a great self-hatred even as there is a vaunting of the ideal of absolute personal expression.

Something’s wrong.

This year I read Perek yud ches with a different perspective. Societal norms for intimacy – whether adhered to by all members or not but that are recognized and accepted as norms – are foundation stones. The term civilization is built from the term civil, as in civil law. The civil laws in the Torah are known as the mishpatim, and they are often defined as the laws that are necessary for a just society (no stealing, no murder, etc.). The laws in Acharei Mot are mishpatim, even if they deal with the most individual and personal choices of life.

 

It is straight forward and honest. To build a civilization, a place of advanced social and cultural development, one must look to tradition. Hashem gave klal Yisrael a blueprint that sets out rights and wrongs because when human beings start to believe that they know best, ego and hedonism play powerful roles in swaying our perception. Granted the ability to make and create, given our inherent power, we tend to forget that He who created the world, and Who creates the world on an ongoing basis, is the One is the one in charge. It’s not us. It’s not about Me.

 

Good Shabbas

Parshas Acharei Mos-Kedoshim: Holiness and Our Parents

The double parsha of Acharei Mos- Kedoshim begins with Hashem’s instructions for Aaron (and any future kohain gadol) on the process of attaining atonement for the Jewish people.  As is well known, the Biblical Yom Kippur service required Aaron to take two goats, one for an offering and the other to receive the sins of Bnei Yisrael and then be cast off a mountain. The Torah describes the process thus: “Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat and confess over it all the iniquities and transgressions of the Israelites, whatever their sins, putting them on the head of the goat; and it shall be sent off to the wilderness through a designated agent” (Vayikra 16:21).

 

Kol avonos Bnei Yisrael – all of the sins of Bnei Yisrael. How in the course of this one ritual could the kohain gadel confess ALL of the sins of Bnei Yisrael? Unfortunately, that would probably take a lot of time. Chizkuni explains, citing Sifre, that the kohain gadol would make a general statement saying: “The Children of Israel committed inadvertent sins, deliberate sins as well as sins reflecting their obstinacy against the Lord.”

 

The ritual was fulfilled by a blanket statement covering every type of aveira because every type of aveira transgressed the defining mitzva of the second parsha of the week: Kodeshim tiheeyu, holy you shall be, and it continues “for holy am I, the Lord your God” (19:2).  The commandment to be holy is a complicated one given that to be holy like Hashem requires a level of perfection that most individual humans cannot even imagine.

 

Parshas Kedoshim then includes an extensive list of mitzvos. Actually, the parsha contains the commandment for holiness in two places. First in the pasuk cited above and again in the next Perek: “You shall sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I, Hashem, am your God. You shall faithfully observe My laws: I, Hashem, make you holy” (20:7-8). It is interesting to note then, that both commandments to be holy are followed by references to halachos of kibbud av v’aim. Vayikra 19:3 says: “Each man you shall revere his mother and his father, and My Sabbaths you shall observe.” Vayikra 20:9: “If anyone curses his father or his mother, that person shall be put to death; that person has cursed his father or his mother—and retains the bloodguilt.”

 

These two mitzvos are a fascinating reflection of the rest of the mitzvos of Parshas Kedoshim in that they included commandments that are both positive and negative. This is, perhaps, an excellent reminder that in our work on being holy, we should neither be fully about restrictions nor only about action. The Torah provides a structure of balance, as well as a recognition that the human condition is…complicated.

 

Think about it: If I revere my mother and my father, fulfilling the first mitzvah, then it seems impossible that I should ever come to curse my parents. All too often, however, life puts us on unforeseen paths that lead us to unexpected situations.

 

But why kibbud av v’aim? Why is this mitzvah so strongly connected to the commandment to be holy? Perhaps we should look at it from the perspective of the famous gemara that says that there are three partners in the creation of a human being – the father, the mother, and Hashem. Thus how we treat our parents is a reflection of our relationship to Hashem. (The optimal word here is “treat,” and this is not to suggest that one must accept an abusive or negative parental relationship. However, even in a negative situation, one can still remember the basic level of hakaras hatov to those who gave one life.) If one cannot treat their parents with some level of reverence for having given them life, for having raised them to adulthood, for having instilled in them the basic morals and mores of being a good person, how can one hope to have the proper reverence to emulate Hashem?

 

How one treats one’s parents is also a significant indication of how one treats other people. The mitzvos listed in Parshos Kedoshim makes clear that the Torah ideal of being holy is firmly rooted in bein adam l’chavero, interpersonal mitzvos. A person’s first and most ongoing interpersonal relationship is, normally, with one’s parents. And while childhood and teenagehood may be fraught with the natural battle for independence, once a person emerges into adulthood, they should be able to see and understand the inherent value of that relationship. A person who demonstrates generosity to the poor and restraint in judgements but who has no boundaries of behavior in this primal relationship cannot attain holiness because they are lacking a fundamental value.

 

Kodeshim tihiyu ki kadosh ani Hashem E-lo-keichem, holy you shall be because holy am I Hashem your God, is also understood to infer that attaining holiness is possible because of Bnei Yisrael’s inherent relationship with Hashem. The relationship comes from our parents. We can be holy because our parents, and our parents’ parents, and our parents’ parents’ parents, and etc, strove to maintain their relationship with the Divine. For while ““The Children of Israel committed inadvertent sins, deliberate sins as well as sins reflecting their obstinacy against the Lord,” they continued, throughout the generations, to strive toward the ultimate goal of being an am kadosh.

Parshas Acharei Mos: Protecting the Law

 Parshas Acharei Mos: Protecting the Law

The 18th chapter of Sefer Vayikra begins a section of the Torah in which Hashem dictates a long list of laws for Moshe to give to Bnei Yisrael. It starts with a very important statement that the Children of Israel must not do like the ways of Egypt, the land from which they had come, or the ways of Canaan, the land to which they were heading, “and in their statutes you shall not walk” (Vayikra 18:3). This injunction against assimilation is followed by what, at first, appears to be simple guidance for staying true to the new path Hashem has put before Bnei Yisrael, and yet the two verses that follow are anything but simple when looked at more closely.

 

“My ordinances you shall do, and My statutes shall you keep, to walk therein: I am the Lord your God. You shall keep My statutes and My ordinances, which if a man shall do, he shall live by them: I am the Lord” (18:4-5).

 

Simple, it seems. Do these mitzvos and guard these laws. So why do the verses seem to flip into themselves? Why is there a seeming repetition with a reversal in order? Is it more important to do – ta’asei – or to keep/guard – shamru?

Ordinances, in Hebrew mishapatim, are basic civil laws – laws that one expects to help society as a whole function. Statutes, in Hebrew chukim, on the other hand, are generally defined as laws for which there is no reason or explanation other than that Hashem told us to do them. Given the different definitions, it makes sense that Hashem instructed Moshe to tell the people to do the mishpatim and to guard the chukim. Setting up and maintaining a civil society requires constant action, whereas the more esoteric rules (chukim) require deliberate cultivation and transmission to the next generation.

But why then the seeming repetition? Perhaps we must remember Hashem's eternal omniscience. Hashem knew that we would be sent into exile, that the Jewish people would have to both develop its own kingship/nation and to live under the governance of others. 

What is the difference between doing and guarding, between la’asot and l’shmor. One is not meant to just keep the chukim close to heart, one must also “do” them. Perhaps Vayikra 18:4 should be read as a warning. Setting up a just society, following the Torah’s civil laws, is important, but it is not enough. The civil system must be sublimated to the statutes, to remembering that what may seem right and just may be a false front if it would not be acceptable within the framework of the chukim – and there are many who have noted that, at the end of the day, all mitzvos are chukim, are mitvos that we do because Hashem told us to.

Vayikra 18:5, on the other hand, reflects galus. Mishpatim, the ordinances, are both very easy and very hard. Mishpatim are often thought of as laws that most societies would develop on their own, even without Divine intervention, laws like “do not steal” and “set up courts.” Living in a society based, as they say, on Judeo-Christian traditions, we cannot even fathom life without these basic standards. At the same time, living in a society that asserts itself as following just laws, but law which may not actually be Torahdik, makes it challenging to hold fast to the mitzvos that we know we are to follow if we are to walk in the way of the Torah. Thus Vayikra 18:5, which switches the order of the injunction and states that we must keep (guard) the statutes and the ordinances and if we do so we shall live (individually). In this, it is fair to say, that living means far more than actual physical existence, but rather the true flourishing of our neshamos.

Right and wrong. Good and bad. Fair and unfair. These are terms that society casts about on every issue, without necessarily taking the time to consider who determines the parameters of those judgments. Interestingly, Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsch notes on Vayikra 18:3 that “the ways of the land of Egypt and the ways of the land of Canaan seem to designate the social behavior that marked the relation of men to each other in Egypt and Canaan…the former are regulated by state-laws, the latter less by legislation but rather by rules which become sanctified by custom and convention.” For Bnei Yisrael, there can only be one source for the decision of right and wrong, good and bad, fair and unfair, and etc. The source is concisely stated as the conclusion to this set of pasukim: Ani Hashem, I am the Lord. 

In the era of galus, may we all have the strength to truly guard our paths.

Wishing you a beautiful Shabbas. 

Halfway Though the Year (Acharei Mos-Kedoshim)

 The beginning portion of the double Parsha Acharei Mos-Kedoshim presents the details of the Yom Kippur service. This discussion of Yom Kippur has only a scant mention of fasting (“afflicting oneself”) and refraining from work, but rather provides a detailed account of the actions required by the Kohein Gadol. For those not immediately familiar, this was the service most relate to for having two goats. One goat would be chosen by lot to be “for Hashem,” and the other would be cast off a mountain into the wilderness of Azazel. But the service itself was far more intricate. There were personal and communal sacrifices. The Kohein Gadol would enter the Holy of Holies, the only time of the year he could do so. He would bring burning incense into the covering of the Aron Kodesh. He would sprinkle the blood of different offerings onto the cover of the Aharon Kodesh, the Tent of meeting, and the altar. Clearly, there are many, many details – 27 verses of precise instructions.

The reading of Parshas Acharei Mos might actually have significant timing. In connection with the timeline of the Torah, these instructions are clearly listed as “And Hashem spoke to Moshe after the death of two sons of Aharon, who brought an {unauthorized} offering before Hashem and they died." Rashi makes it clear that the instructions that follow are so precise and detailed here because of the death of Aharon’s two sons. This is the when and the how one can come close to the Kedosh Kedoshim.

There is, however, something else to note about the timing. While of course we do not expect the Torah readings to align with the calendar, sometimes the way things “fall out” appear to be more than just coincidence. This parsha is read when we have months to go until the Yomim Noraim, but we are months past it as well.

Yom Kippur is a day of tremendous awe. Even still, after 2,000 years of exile, it is a day that makes a powerful impact on us. But human nature tends to let events, even those of great significance, fade from our memory. Many of us have faced small life-threatening incidents, like a car accident or even a terrifying tumble down the stairs. For the rest of the day we review the situation in our heads, catch our breath, and thank God that nothing really happened. The next day perhaps we drive a little more cautiously or look at the stairs a little more carefully. A week later, however, we are back to our old selves with only a fleeting thought to the powerful emotions that had enveloped us the week before.

We all try to keep the sense of kedusha and teshuva of Yom Kippur with us as we move through the year, and Hashem gave us the beautiful holiday of Sukkot to help as wrap those feeling in joy and simcha. But we are human, after all, and we move forward. On Pesach we are not focused on Teshuva, but rather on the magnificence of being Am Yisrael, and all that that means. Now, however, in the lengthy days of Iyar, halfway back to Tishrei, we come to parshas Acharei Mos-Kedoshim and a heady reminder of the importance of Teshuva and the significance of details in being holy. The parsha is a spiritual booster shot for the rest of the year.

Two Goats and Bchol Dor Va'Dor (Acharei Mos)

Acharei Mos, after the deaths…It is sadly too easy to connect the name of this week’s parsha to the tragic events that occurred in California on the last day of Pesach 5779. Truth be told, upon hearing the news on Saturday night – and also seeing the obtusely anti-Semitic political cartoon printed by the International Edition of The New York Times – the words of the Haggadah, Bchol Dor Va’Dor, felt ominously pressing. Just a week earlier, as we read these words declaring how in every generation our enemies have tried to destroy us, there were discussions about how we were indeed witnessing an escalation in anti-Semitism in the world.

The parsha’s title words, Acharei Mos, actually act more as a way of placing the next dialogue in the timeline, since the text immediately launches into Hashem’s instructions for the sacred service of Yom Kippur. Aaron, or the Kohein Gadol of the time, would purify himself and klal Yisrael before being brought two goats, one for a sin offering and one to be cast off the mountain into the Wilderness of Azazel. Interestingly, this ritual is most likely the source for the term scapegoat, a term that has haunted the Jewish people throughout history, one that we can easily see gaining ground in today’s divisive society.

The goats of Yom Kippur or, more precisely, the concept of Azazel, have always been intriguing. Two equal goats are blindly chosen. One’s “fate” is to be immediately offered as a sin offering, immediately sanctified. The other’s fate is to “stand alive before God to be an atonement on it to send it to Azazel to the wilderness” (16:10). The second goat stands and waits for the sin offering to be concluded before the high priest lays hands on it and confesses the transgressions of the Israelites. The goat is then “sent” into the wilderness. (According to tradition, it is pushed off a mountain/cliff and, if it survives, is left to wander in the wilderness.)

There are many, many commentaries on Azazel and the goats of Yom Kippur. One particular one discussed how the second goat must imagine himself to be the luckier goat, since he sees that the other goat is immediately slaughtered. In truth, however, if he survives the casting off, he will have to survive without a caretaker – in summary, a much harsher fate. In the end, perhaps the fact that both goats are meant to die that day gives significance to everything that happens to them before that. Their living, however brief, is the lesson we can learn from them – one is a vessel for the sanctification of Hashem and the other is a vessel for bearing witness to the collective transgressions of Klal Yisrael.

So what do the goats of Yom Kippur have to do with Bchol Dor Va’Dor on a week that reflects Acharei Mos? Anti-Semitism is on the rise. It’s just a fact that we have to accept and deal with. Around the world, people are asking why. Perhaps there really is no answer except that the Jewish people have a special role in the world and one negative effect of having that role and not living up to it is that, as God ordained, we are hated by the nations.*  In the end, there are two paths ahead of each Jew: 1) Be like the first goat –be a sanctification and embrace Jewish living, 2) Be like the second goat - think that we can survive cast off into the Wilderness, a drift from our purpose, the deviation from our national goal hanging upon our heads.

It is an imperfect metaphor. Both goats are sacrifices and our obvious desire is for the Jewish people to live and thrive. The point of the metaphor, however, is that they die either sanctified or adrift. We see a generation – really a series of generations – who have almost no connection to their Jewish heritage. We see Jews supporting movements that certainly don’t have the best interest of the Jewish people in their sites. We see Jews who cut Judaism down to its bare bones so that it can fit the morality of a foreign culture. After the terrible tragedies in Pittsburgh and now California – as well as the increasing reports of vandalism, desecrations, and out-right anti-Semitism, it is time to remember Bchol Dor Va’Dor is real and that our biggest weapon is staying strong in our convictions about living a Jewish life. This is how we ensure that the dorot, the generations to come, will host a Pesach seder, will celebrate Shabbat, and will see the next Holy Temple rise.

*Please note that the use of the term nations implies a much broader concept. There is absolutely no assumption upon the relationships of individual people.

Mindful of the Meat

Parshat Acharei Mos is a like a sandwich. On one end, there is the description of the Yom Kippur service and the ceremony of the scapegoat, and, at the other, there are the prohibitions of immoral relationships. Tucked in the middle is chapter 17, which states that anyone who slaughters a field animal and does not bring it to the Tent of Meeting will have a blood guilt, and anyone who offers a burnt offering and doesn't bring it to the Tent of Meeting will suffer karait. The chapter also includes a reinforcement of the prohibitions of consuming blood and of eating "what has died or has been torn by beasts" (17:15).

Imagine if (or perhaps better, when) the modern world meets the ancient world - hosting a barbeque would require a trip to the Temple to get your meat properly shechted with the necessary parts going to the altar. There is, herein, the obvious question: did people go vegetarian if they lived far from the Temple? That's a different discussion, but the basic answer is no because the difficulty of the distance was recognized by halachic authorities. 

The chapter (in verse 7) goes further to explain that the rule of bringing the animals to the Tent of Meeting would stop people from making offerings to demons in the field. Judaism believes in demons but not in making offerings to them. It is hard to relate to the concept of demons in the field, to be honest, but following the holiday of Pesach and all that meat over the holiday, this is a good time to connect it to the context of mindful eating. Every time a person desired to take the life of an animal for personal use, they had to take the animal to the priests. They had to consecrate it and give some of it to the Divine service. These rules were another decisive reminder to the Jewish people that we are a spiritual nation, primed to remember the Divine in all of our acts and especially in our most animalistic acts. 

We have no Mishkan or Temple today, but we do have brachot. May these thoughts on these pasukim be inspiration for making more mindful basic brachot before eating. Saying brachot before one eats is such a simple thing to do, and yet it is one that many people (for sure, me) tends to rush or mumble or do without thinking. If the Children of Israel could bring their cattle and sheep to the Tent of Meeting before preparing their food, the extra second it takes to properly pronounce the blessings is the least that we can do.