I’m often asked when it was I knew I wanted to be a rabbi.  Looking back on my journey, I’d say it was in 8th grade, just around my Bat Mitzvah.  I was already hooked on Judaism by that time and wanted to lead anything I was allowed to lead for this celebration, and everyone told me “you’re going to be a rabbi.”  But what thirteen year old wants to do what everyone tells them to do?  I may have enjoyed it, but it wasn’t “cool” to love Hebrew school or Judaism, and I found myself torn between wanting to act with passion for Judaism and trying to fit in with the “too cool for school” attitude of my peers. 

I will be the first to admit that Jewish studies aren’t often a priority with adolescents, but even as adults we sometimes find ourselves at a crossroads, caught in the shallow space between fulfilling an obligation reluctantly but with purpose and fulfilling an obligation with emptiness out of habit.  Either way, we’re left with the question of how to make Judaism meaningful.

This week, in parshat Behokotai, the Israelite nation is receiving the final laws of the book ofVayikra, which detail specifically how we should treat one another in various relationships and how we should connect to God.  The Israelites have only been out of Egypt for a short period of time, and during this first taste of freedom, they are in their stubborn and rebellious adolescent years.  God, as the dutiful parent, tries every which way to implore the Israelites to keep the mitzvot.  God tries to use Love and Logic in giving consequences that fit the actions as we saw in parshat Yitro. God tries the anger tactic as exhibited when the Israelites build the golden calf.  Now, God brings on the threats.  God makes it clear to the Israelites in chapter 26, verse 21 that “if you remain hostile toward Me and refuse to obey Me, I will go on smiting you sevenfold for your sins.” 

The word that God uses for “hostility” is Keri, a word that does not appear in this form anywhere else in the Bible.  In order to know what keri really means, we must also understand the so-called “hostile behavior” the Israelites were exhibiting.  One interpretation is that the Israelites are acting out like teenagers might.  God has brought them this far, but they want to test the limits, so they do the opposite of what they are told to do to establish their autonomy. 

The commentators Rashi and Ibn Ezra understand the word keri to come from the word mikreh, or “chance.”  They describe the Israelites’ behavior as only observing God’s ways when it is convenient for them.  Actions are easy when they bring great reward to you and your family, but when you can’t see the immediate consequences or when you don’t trust that something good will result, it is more difficult to uphold rules.   

This verse seems to imply that the Israelites are acting not out of love or spiritual connection, but rather out of a place of cold, disconnected obligation.  God has given the Israelites a life of promise, and they continue to act out of pure self interest instead of out of love for one another or God.  And it appears as though God has reached the breaking point.   

True, we might not love everything we are obligated to do, but the assumption that nothing is worth doing unless there is personal gain involved just creates resentment and hostility.  In this week’s parshah, God is asking us to think about our motives; if we continue to act out of our own selfish needs, then hostility and emptiness will reign over us.  If we can move beyond the wall of “chance” and find meaning and passion in our daily tasks, if we can push ourselves past acting out of spite or the need to establish autonomy, then we might be surprised by the learning, love, and joy that comes forth.

Family Discussion

1. What is one example of how you can add personal meaning and passion to mitzvot?

2. Mikreh is sometimes translated as “coincidence,” which we often think of as positive. Can you think of a way in which a coincidence could negatively affect a relationship?

Every day I stare out my office window at the sign the nurses have put up: “10 tips to avoid the flu.” We are wrapped up in early detection and preventative screenings, and we receive flu shots and other immunizations to try and prevent whatever health challenges we can. However, the old adage “Prevention is the best medicine” applies to much more than getting enough sleep at night to avoid getting sick. 

When thinking about our future, we are often sent into a tizzy thinking about all of the preparation necessary. We plan for retirement because we hear that it’s never too early to start saving. We will think about our wills, our estates, about who we’ll gift what to.   We’re constantly reminded to plan ahead in terms of finance and health, and as we consider what the future might hold, it’s important to remember that preventative measures are usually easier than repairing damage later.

This weeks parshah, Behar, discusses the preventative measures God has put in place in order for our land and our society to stay fertile and viable.  Chapter 25, verse 35 states “If your kinsman stumbles and comes under your authority, and you hold him as though a resident alien, let him live by your side.”  This verse, according to the Sifra, a compilation of Halachic Midrashim on the book of Vayikra, is a warning to us about noticing the “stumble.”  A stumble is often that first moment when we can become aware of a change, or of something being wrong.  The sages suggest that it is easier to support a person and hold him or her up when the person first begins to stumble than it is to pick the person up after he or she has fallen.  That is to say that our text reminds us that we should not wait until there is serious damage done before we provide assistance.

Back in February, the Jewish Federation of Greater Dallas celebrated 100 years of Federation.  This kickoff event for the 100th year explained that we are a community in which people support one another.  There are a plethora of agencies linked to Federation, like our school, that make sure that all Jews in the community are taken care of and assisted during those times after a stumble. 

We are commanded to be proactive; after all, it is easier to prevent poverty than it is to cure it.  Our text implores us to open our eyes and take a good look at our community and identify issues that require us to be proactive.  We must take a stand and move forward to set the stage for success rather than failure.  Parshat Behar reminds us that if we take a step forward and set the groundwork for a future that is well planned and prepared for, then the next 100 years will not only be fruitful, but will lead us to greatness. 

1. What are some of the things you do to protect your health so you don’t get sick?

2. How does offering support to people in our community in need fit in with our ethical covenant?

We often talk about how human beings were created in God’s image. We’re usually referring to positive things like our capacity for holiness, our free will, or possibly our compassion or creative nature. But what about the negative qualities? We know from the Torah that once in a while God acts out in destructive anger and jealousy.  Is this part of the image of God we’re supposed to reflect too?

This week we read parshat Kedoshim, famous for containing in chapter 19 the “holiness code.”  This is the list of mitzvot, commandments, tied to the notion that God shares with us in verse 2: “Y’all shall be holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy.”  Holiness comes from our very nature and creation and is described here as a must, an imperative.  God tells the people that they should be holy because in order to match up with the God we believe in we need to be like God.  The text goes on to list a number of obligations we have to maintain this holiness:  leave the corners of our fields, don’t insult the deaf or place a stumbling block before the blind, don’t stand by the blood of our neighbor or defraud them.  These are all mitzvot that seem relatively reasonable to uphold; so far God’s actions and attitudes are in alignment with what God asks of us.

But when we arrive at chapter 19, verse 18, we receive the mitzvah telling us not to hold a grudge, which comes in conjunction with loving our neighbors as ourselves.  The text implies that holding a grudge is unholy and un-God-like.  On the surface it seems obvious that we shouldn’t hold a grudge, but when you think about it, just a few weeks earlier when God gave us the 10 commandments, we found out that God has the potential to hold the ultimate grudge.  In Shemotchapter 20, verse 5 the text states “you shall not bow down to them [idols] nor serve them because I the Lord your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of those who hate me to the third and fourth generations and showing mercy to the thousandth generation of those who love me.” 

You don’t have to analyze the text too much to figure out that God does indeed bear a grudge.  Is this a contradiction or worse, is God being hypocritical? The text teaches us that even God is not quick to forgive, and if we are like God, it is acceptable to struggle with forgiveness as long as we don’t hold our grudges so long that they destroy our love for humanity and our community.  God’s grudge has an end point, and eventually we too must be able to “let it go.”  It is never healthy nor holy to hold onto something negative for too long. 

Parshat Kedoshim reminds us that while anger or hurt feelings may lead to a grudge, we are commanded to love one another, whether it is easy or hard.  We learn to forgive and forget, or at least forgive even if we can’t forget. We are holy, not just because the God we believe in is holy, but we are holy because we strive towards that which is good, we strive towards love.    

A Chasidic story: 

“There once was a town where the only thing the rabbi heard was laughter.  He heard that this person said this to that person and then the chain continued on.  Each person was talking about the other, they all laughed, except the rabbi and the person who was being laughed about.  One day, Shlomo told Barukh about the foolish thing that Yankel had done.  Barukh couldn’t stop laughing.  Yankel was hurt and wouldn’t talk to Shlomo.  Shlomo was very upset and went to the rabbi.  He said, ‘I don’t know what to do, Yankel is my good friend but he won’t talk to me now.  He slammed the door in my face.  I tried to say I’m sorry but he won’t listen to me.’  The rabbi understood.  He said to Shlomo, ‘Meet me at noon in the town square with a pillow.  I will teach you a great secret, but you can only learn it with a pillow.’  The next day Shlomo showed up with a pillow and met the rabbi.  The rabbi had Shlomo rip open the pillow.  As soon as he did this the wind started to blow and grab the feathers and carry them away.  The rabbi took the pillow and shook it so the air was filled with feathers and the wind carried them all over town.  The whole town was filled with feathers.  The rabbi then said, ‘Go and gather up all the feathers.’  Shlomo said, ‘That’s impossible, no one could to that.’  Then the rabbi said, ‘Go and gather up the story about the foolish thing Yankel did.’ Shlomo said, ‘That’s impossible.’  Then he got it.”   

The story tells us that our words are like feathers in the wind.  Once they’ve come out of our mouths, it is very difficult, if not impossible, to take them back. 

Our parshah this week, Acharei Mot, continues the story of Aaron’s sons and their relationship with the priesthood.  It begins by reminding us why Nadav and Avihu were “zapped.”  They drew too close to God.  The text continues with a detailed list of the preparations to be made for Yom Kippurand the foods that we’re allowed to eat.   The common thread throughout the text is a focus on various relationships to be had and to be held dear.  From Nadav and Avihu we gather that there are certain relationships in which it is best to keep some distance and acknowledge that boundaries are there for a reason.  When we cross those boundaries, we often find ourselves in a place of irreversible damage.  The text tells us the same is true with regard to whom we love and have intimate relations with. 

The text then focuses on various types of offerings made in atonement for our actions.  Chapter 16, verse 13 begins to tell us of the offering of incense to be made as Aaron purifies the sanctuary of God.  It tells us that Aaron is to “put the incense on the fire before the Lord, so that the cloud from the incense screens the cover that is over the Ark of the Pact, lest he die.”  The Talmud, in tractateYoma, teaches us about the importance of incense being used to talk about rectifying sins of lashon HaRah, evil speech.  The offering of incense is scented, but has no physical presence and is used to atone for the sin of gossip, which also has no physical reality but can be carried far and wide, with its effects lasting long after it has left its place of origin. 

This week we read not only about needing to guard our tongues and our relationships, but we also celebrate Shabbat HaGadol, the special Shabbat right before we celebrate Pesach.  We think about what it might mean to screen our thoughts before they leave our lips and how to ensure that our fires are the ones that burn within us, the fire of love, the fire of compassion, and the fire of intelligence. We hope that that is what spreads like the feathers in the story, like the presence of God in the text, and encompass the whole earth with understanding and respect.