Holiness In Time: Emor
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
May 17, 2019
This week’s portion, Emor (“Speak,” Leviticus 21:1—24:23), gives further instruction to the priests and the Israelites regarding their responsibilities as leaders as well as members of a people that strive for holiness.
Unlike some of the other major religions of the time, the Torah’s focus is on the here-and-now, rather than on the life thereafter. In ancient Egyptian and Greek mythologies, strong emphasis was placed on the afterlife. Food as well as other provisions were supplied for those traveling their final path into the netherworld. In the myth of Orpheus, we actually see an example of a living person who charms his way into the world of the dead in an attempt to release one of its inmates (though without success, due to lack of sufficient faith). Speaking to the dead and consulting with spirits were common practice back then (and based on the popularity of the movie Ghost, still have great appeal even today).
One of the early tenets of Judaism was that nothing but memory remains beyond this life, that in fact even God’s power extends only to that point. (In time, this philosophy was enriched by other influences and God began to be seen as Author of life and death, with God’s redeeming power reaching even beyond the grave).
In Emor, then, the priest’s behavior when coming in contact with death, even in the case of a beloved family member, is severely restricted. In public at least, the priest’s complete devotion to life, to life’s holy moments and sacred duties, has to be unwavering, strictly observed at all times.
Life was seen as God’s gift, and as such it was considered holy, to be sanctified and not defiled.
It was Moses’s intent, however, that all Israel should be a holy nation, a nation of priests (see Exodus 19:6); as such, sanctifying life becomes the people’s responsibility as much as the priest’s. At every moment, then, with each breath, we must strive upwards from the earth and reach for the highest ideals possible. Our time here is precious. It must not be wasted.
Only God’s time is perfect, eternal, infinite; ours is all too finite and marked by loss and imperfection. To make up for the time we spend earthbound, in toil and worry, we are commanded to set aside special moments and seasons, to proclaim Sabbaths and holy days and sanctify them.
In addition to Shabbat, Emor repeats and expands earlier instruction regarding the rituals and sacrifices that must be offered on the Three Pilgrimages—Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot. Originally seasonal pagan holidays, Judaism raises these festivals to a level of sanctity. The Torah commands every Israelite to bring food to the Temple during these sacred times, provisions meant not for the dead, but rather to be distributed among the poor and needy.
In the Torah, the functional is never far from the ideal. Holiness is firmly anchored in the grainy reality of time and place. God’s answer to hunger is the commandment to feed the hungry. Holiness is found in the kindness we show to others.
But Emor does more than that. This portion teaches that, in addition to mitzvot—acts of charity and kindness—holiness is encapsulated within time itself. Our time on earth is our portion of God’s eternal time. When we set aside special times and celebrate them, be they birthdays, anniversaries, Shabbat or other holy days, we activate the Divine spark embedded in the moment. When we observe the sacredness of time, we experience a taste of God’s eternal timelessness, and, at least for that moment, our lives, too, become holy.
As we read in Psalm 118, “I shall not die, but live, and I shall declare God’s works.”
© 2019 by Boaz D. Heilman
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