Parashat Kedoshim 5784
Our parsha begins with the striking words: קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃ You shall be holy, for I, your God, am holy. (Lev. 19:2)
Our parsha begins with the striking words: קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י ה׳ אֱלֹהֵיכֶֽם׃ You shall be holy, for I, your God, am holy. (Lev. 19:2)
Parashat Aharei Mot gives us much to think about, to learn from, to understand and to challenge ourselves with. I’ve chosen to devote my D’var Torah to the anonymous and fascinating individual in this parashah, the ish iti – or “man of the hour” or “time-bound man”.
During the festival of Pesah, it is customary to read Shir HaShirim – Song of Songs, a beautiful collection of poetry extolling the splendor and the power of love.
This week's Torah portion describes a “backdoor” entry into understanding the priesthood and the Tribe of Levi. Acts of Temple worship like the offering of sacrifices and the burning of aromatic herbs take place “up front,” where the Israelites in the courtyard (‘azarah) gaze in awe at the priests and Levites.
One of my rabbis used to tell a story about a time when his father was on death’s doorstep. He had been 30 days in a coma suffering from a rare blood infection. The doctor comes into the room and says, “I don’t think he’s going to make it. There is one more drug we can try, but it’s so strong— if it doesn’t help him, it could kill him.” He told my rabbi the name of the drug. “Oh!,” said my rabbi, “that is the same drug that I was given 40 years ago when I was sick with Typhoid fever. It saved my life.”
People sometimes ask questions to rabbis in the form, “Is there any Jewish significance to the number [x],” or “Is it true that [x] is an important number in Judaism?” Of course, the answer is always “yes.”
Well everybody’s got a secret, son Something they just can’t face Some spend their whole lives trying to keep it They carry it with them every step that they take ‘till one day, they just cut it loose Cut it loose or let it drag ‘em down. Bruce Springsteen, Darkness on the Edge of Town
When I began studying Hebrew grammar with my friend Rabbi Amanda Brodie, one of the first things I learned about was the vav ha-hippukh (flipped), also called “the consecutive vav” or “narrative vav.” Normally, this letter serves as a prefix meaning “and,” “but” and sometimes “or,” and the word following is in the imperfect tense (an uncompleted action). But when this letter has a patah vowel (straight line) and the next letter has a dagesh (dot) inside, it “flips” and translates to something like, “and then….” basically suggesting a continuation of the narrative, and a perfect (completed) action.
The portion Pikudei includes the action of building the mishkan, the portable sanctuary in the desert and the making of the vestments for the high priest.
In challenging times, how do we stay strong and sustain our spirits? When I am in need of sustenance for my soul, I find myself turning to stories of people who retained faith, hope and their humanity in the most horrific times and circumstances. A midrash on this week’s parashah, VaYakhel, imagines such a story. It is a story of women, from the ancient narrative of our people’s enslavement in Egypt.