D’var Torah for Yom KippurAfternoon

Kedoshim

Kedoshim Tihiyuh, Ki kadosh, Ani Adonai Elohechem. You shall be holy, I am Holy, I am Adonai your God. This forceful command to all the people of Israel, for it is in the plural, begins what we commonly call “The Holiness Code,” a section of Torah that has been commented on and debated for centuries and whose rules and regulations on human sexuality, today cause many liberal Jews to wish it didn’t exist. For under these rules many of us would find ourselves stoned to death. On the other hand this section contains some of the first laws concerning the proper treatment of disabled people, about equitable treatment for the poor and about labor relations.

On the other hand, as Tevya would say, it also has a bunch of rules about not participating in practices that glorify other gods, gods that haven’t been worshipped for over 2000 years, some of these restrictions being the basis for the rules of Kashrut. So what are we to make of this passage, full of arcane rules, ancient tribal expressions of moral conduct and some good common sense?

The Rabbinnic tradition that placed this reading at this point of the Yom Kippur service felt it was important, for it proceeds the holiest moment of the holiest day of our calendar. In a moment, when we sing the Grand Alenu we are symbolically commemorating the moment in the ancient temple when the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies and uttered the name of God. The moment when, in their meditations the community should be at its “holiest,” just before our final confession and the closing of the gates for another year.

So what does being holy mean? In Rabbinnic discourse often “being Holy” is the opposite of being ordinary. Ah ha, we should make ourselves special somehow. Perhaps we are being told in these passages, “Don’t be like your neighbors, be better!”

But that’s awfully conceited. On this particular point no less a scholar than Martin Buber says holiness is found not in rising above your neighbors, but in relationships, in recognizing the latent holiness in your neighbors. Buber wrote “Judaism does not divide life into the holy and the profane, rather into the holy and the not yet holy.” OK, so I’m assuming most of us would fall in to that “not yet holy” category, right? If that’s the case how do we get “holy”?

The rules set our here are the solutions a society nearly three thousand years ago came up with for this question. If we ask the question today, how can I be Holy? Or as the rabbis would say, how can I not be ordinary, what does that mean? What do we find in this part of the Torah to answer that still works for us in the 21st century? What is surprising is that much of the writing still has relevance today.

Care for our elderly parents, giving to the poor, treating our workers fairly, treating the disabled fairly and with respect, not favoring the rich over the poor, or the poor over the rich in court, use honest weights and measures, which of us would disagree with any of this? These are all valid ways of not being ordinary, of setting ourselves apart from our neighbors without putting ourselves above our neighbors.

But what of selling our children to the service of Moloch or worshipping Ba’al, or rules for how to treat your slave women? What relevance do these have for us?

Maimonides warns against taking this section technically, literally, without finding the spirit inherent in it. For this can still lead to living an unworthy life. Such a person is called naval birshut ha-torah, a scoundrel within the bounds of Torah. Ramban is making clear that the spirit of the law is what is important not merely the letter of the law. So what is the spirit of the law?

Is holiness about trying to be god-like? God says be holy for I am holy. How can human beings be godlike? What are the parameters within which we can do this? Are the rules that difficult? Are we really asked to do so much?

In verse 18 of this section we read V’ahavcha L’rayacha Kamocha, Love your fellow as yourself --what is called in Christian society the Golden Rule. When the great Rabbi Hillel was asked to summarize Torah in one sentence he used his interpretation of this line as the basis for his answer saying, "That which is hateful to you, don’t do to another person, the rest is commentary, go and learn it.”

Is there really more to say than that? That which is hateful to you, don’t do to anyone else -- man, woman, child or beast of the field. How much holier could we get than granting the respect we all desire to everyone else. It sounds so simple, but as we draw our meditations to a close for another year, think how hard it will be to do that every day.

How hard will it be not to curse your co-workers, how hard will it be not to yell at your kids, how hard will it be not to diss your friends at school, how hard will it be not take just a little advantage in your next business deal, how hard will it be to not forget about this until next Yom Kippur afternoon when we will gather again and wonder what it means to be holy?

If you can answer those questions this year, perhaps next Yom Kippur finding what it means to be holy won’t be so difficult.

Leon Natker
© 2003