Acharei Mot

Sacred Boundaries, Sacred Commitments

Eve PosenLeave a comment

In our tradition, holiness isn’t something that floats above us in the heavens—it’s rooted in the way we live our lives, especially in our most intimate relationships. Parshat Acharei Mot, one of two parshiyot in this week’s double portion, challenges us to consider what it means to live a life of holiness not just through prayer and ritual, but through how we love, commit, and connect. In a culture that often celebrates freedom without boundaries, this parshah reminds us that some of the most powerful forms of holiness come not from saying “yes,” but from knowing when and how to say “no.”

Acharei Mot begins with the Yom Kippur service, detailing how the High Priest is to enter the Holy of Holies and seek atonement for the people. But the second half shifts dramatically into a list of arayot—forbidden sexual relationships. These laws are blunt and specific, outlining which relationships are prohibited, including those involving close kin, adultery, and other behaviors seen as destructive to the moral fabric of society.

While these verses may feel uncomfortable to read or discuss, especially in modern times, they close with a crucial teaching: “You shall keep my statutes . . . and live by them—va’chai bahem.” (Leviticus 18:5) These mitzvot are not meant to shame or repress, but to uphold life, community, and sacred trust.

There has never been more openness around sexuality and relationships than there is now. Much of that progress has been positive—celebrating love, expanding rights, and affirming dignity for all people. But in a world that often blurs the line between freedom and permissiveness, Acharei Mot reminds us that not all expressions of love are ethical or holy. The Torah’s sexual ethics are rooted in the belief that intimacy carries power—and with power comes responsibility.

There is no blessing for “not doing” something wrong—but there is a blessing for doing something right. At a Jewish wedding, we recite the sheva berachot, and one of those seven blessings thanks God for sanctifying us through mitzvot and commanding us concerning forbidden relationships:

Asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al ha’arayot . . . 

It’s a striking moment: at the height of joy and intimacy, we recall the boundaries that protect the sanctity of the union. Judaism doesn’t just bless love—it blesses committed, ethical, sacred love.

This week, take time to reflect on the relationships in your life—romantic, familial, communal. Are they built on mutual respect and holiness? Do they honor boundaries, consent, and care? Consider how you might bring more intentionality to the way you show love, build trust, and uphold sacred commitments. Holiness isn’t only about what we avoid—it’s about what we build.

After Death, There Is Life – Parshat Acharei Mot 5784

Eve Posen1 Comment

I’ve written before about when my Zayde (my grandfather on my mother’s side) died when I was 11 years old, in a strange way it cemented my love of Judaism. Why? Because the rituals of Jewish grief and mourning were comforting and gave me something to do when I felt unmoored. Through the subsequent deaths of my grandmothers, my other grandfather, and even my father, I have been eternally grateful that there was something prescribed for me to do when I wanted to do nothing. The path from seven days of sheltering in grief to 30 days of slowly re-entering the world, and then a year of saying a prayer allowed each stage of grief, and then some, to be acknowledged. The process pushed me to move forward, even when I wanted to hide from the world in bed.

This feels particularly relevant in this week’s Torah portion. This week we read Parshat Acharei Mot, the portion that details the laws and rules for healthy relationships. It begins with the clean-up after the loss of Aaron’s sons because of their out-of-body experience breaking the rules and continues with the laws about how we’re supposed to atone for our sins on Yom Kippur. The final chapter of the text deals with appropriate and inappropriate relationships between family members. 

In the time between the death of his two sons and where we pick up the story, Aaron has learned about ritual but was likely given the space he needed in order to experience his grief. And then, after the loss, Aaron returns to his community and is deeply entrenched in the rituals of Yom Kippur, of forgiveness and sin, and of the work he is responsible for as a leader in the community. 

Could Aaron have needed and taken more time to grieve privately before coming back to the public spotlight? Yes, and that probably would have been understood. Was it also important for Aaron as a leader to show that our grief can ebb and flow and that perhaps being back in community with others can also be helpful? Probably also yes. 

Parshat Acharei Mot reminds us of the power of this beautiful religion. Especially after the long week of keeping kosher for Passover, it’s easy to think of certain Jewish rituals as burdensome. Sometimes you can only eat certain foods. Sometimes you can’t eat anything at all. Sometimes you don’t turn on your computer until the sky is dark. But so much of what we practice is about what we need as humans to survive and thrive, and as odd as it may sound, that includes how we understand and deal with death.

Finding Balance – Parshat Acharei Mot-Kedoshim 5783

Eve Posen1 Comment

More than once, I’ve found myself in a conversation where someone mentions a metaphorical social pendulum. Society swings alternately from one extreme to the other, so whenever we think things have reached an extreme point, we should remember that there will soon be a time when the pendulum swings back, and we moderate ourselves to a more middle stance. Does this sound at all familiar? While this is generally true with many trends and beliefs, that doesn’t necessarily make living through the extreme moments easier, when the world feels like it has a lot of black-and-white polar opposites and no room for gray.  

The two Torah portions we read this week remind me of this swinging pendulum. This week we read a double parshah, Acharei Mot-Kedoshim. Parshat Acharei Mot deals with what happens after Aaron’s sons have offered up “strange fire” to God and with certain forbidden relationships between human beings. The structure of this section of text pushes us to look at our relationships with both God and others and see the boundaries and intimacies of each relationship. Parshat Kedoshim deals with what is known as the “Holiness Code” which helps us to understand how we can walk in God’s ways and create a community of relationship and understanding.

These two sections of text feel at times to be completely opposite to one another, like the two ends of a pendulum’s amplitude. Parshat Acharei Mot goes into an entire list of actions that are deemed to be abhorrent or an abomination. This list includes things like rape, incest, and bestiality, which are just as heinous today as they were then, but also homosexuality, which, to our modern sensibilities, obviously has no place on this list. The second text, Parshat Kedoshim, is a list of commandments for how we should honor, trust, lift up, and respect one another.  

The way our actions are judged in the first, combined with the commandments not to judge in the second, feels like two extremes of that pendulum swing. In the middle is where we find the first verse of Parshat Kedoshim: “You should be holy, because I, the Lord, your God is holy.” This refrain is used again and again. What is holy? Acting with respect for human dignity and loving one another. What is also holy? Not causing undo harm, mental or physical, to other human beings. What else is holy? Lifting one another up in a way that gives each of us the freedom to be our best selves.  

The pendulum swings, even in religious Jewish practice. It’s not just a literal interpretation of the text, it’s a metaphor for our lives as Conservative Jews. We read these portions through our lens of “tradition and change,” and while the text is our guide, this also means that reading a statement that calls an act of love an abomination, even during a time far removed from our own, requires of us a moment of teshuvah, of returning to that midpoint between the extremes. It’s our reminder that, no matter what, we are holy.

Say It Out Loud – Parshat Acharei Mot 5782

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In my work with people who are curious about Judaism or learning about Jewish practice for the first time, there is often amazement at the notion that for most of our confessions, most of the time when we’re facing change or needing to unload emotionally, we don’t need a rabbi to witness it. Instead, we have moments of individual prayer that include confession in almost every Amidah outside of Shabbat. In Catholicism, confession happens out loud in a private booth with a priest, whereas in modern Judaism, confession most often takes the form of private, silent communication between the individual and God. 

Interestingly, Judaism wasn’t always like this. In the times of the Torah, the High Priest played a significant role in the act of confession for the Israelite people, and we learn about this public, spoken confession in our Torah portion this week. 

This week we read Parshat Acharei Mot, the portion that details the laws and rules for healthy relationships. It begins with the aftermath of the loss of Aaron’s sons to their own out of body experience while breaking the rules, and continues with the laws about how we’re supposed to atone for our sins on Yom Kippur. The final chapter of the text deals with appropriate and inappropriate relationships between family members.

In chapter 16 we read about the ways that Aaron would go and make the confession on behalf of all the people of Israel. You’d think that if he’s making the confessions on behalf of all the people, naturally they would’ve had to share them with him. Specifically, in verse 21, the text tells us that Aaron would place both his hands upon the head of the live goat and confess over it all the iniquities and transgressions of the Israelites. In other words, not only did the Israelites have to share their transgressions out loud with Aaron first, he then said them out loud a second time to the goat.

While sharing our missteps with a goat might not be what we picture for atonement today, it’s important to note the action required here to move forward after a transgression. This system relies on saying our confessions out loud. How often do you have a conversation inside your own head about something you regret or feel remorse about? And how often does that internal dialogue actually lead to change? If you’re like me, the change doesn’t happen unless I voice those thoughts to another human being. I’ve even tried using my dog, Stanley, as my scapegoat, but he doesn’t hold me accountable. 

Parshat Acharei Mot is a gentle reminder to each of us that in order to make real progress in ourselves, we must say the change we want to make out loud. In Judaism, there’s no longer a High Priest or even a rabbi required; any interpersonal conversation can be your stepping stone. The action of change occurs when we take our own inner voice and let others hear our intention. 

You Are the Tradition – Parshat Acharei Mot-Kedoshim 5781

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While we’re not currently in the season of Hanukkah, a Mishnah that I love to teach about Hanukkah comes to mind as I read this week’s Torah portions. Hillel and Shammai, the great rabbinic sparring partners, have a debate about which way to light the candles. Should you add one each night or subtract one? At the same time, the Mishnah also introduces the concept that our rabbis taught that the mitzvah of Hanukkah is (for one person to light) one candle for the household. And for those who embellish, one candle for each and every member of the house. Then Hillel and Shammai get into the debate about eight candles and their significance. 

This debate is about more than a ritual. It symbolizes our desire to assign deeper meaning to the ordinary objects we’re using. In the case of Hanukkah, the candles represent something bigger than just glowing light. They represent ourselves, our community, our world.

This week we read a double parshah, Acharei Mot-Kedoshim. Parshat Acharei Mot deals with what happens after Aaron’s sons have offered up “strange fire” to God and with certain forbidden relationships between human beings. The structure of this section of text pushes us to look at our relationships with both God and others and see the boundaries and intimacies of each relationship. Parshat Kedoshim deals with what is known as the “Holiness Code” that helps us to understand how we can walk in God’s ways and create a community of relationship and understanding.

In the context of these two Torah portions, we read about the way Aaron was supposed to prepare for Yom Kippur, specifically the public cleanse and purification for atonement. Aaron is to take a bull, a ram, and two goats, and wear (four) sacral linen garments. Leviticus Rabbah interprets each of these items and connects them to stories of Aaron’s past through his ancestors. The bull recalls the merit of Abraham’s offering when the messengers of God came to him. The ram is a reminder of Isaac’s readiness to be sacrificed at the Akeidah. The two goats symbolize the meal Jacob prepared for his father when he received his blessing instead of his brother. The four linen garments represent Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Leah. In essence, the midrash reads this offering as a way for Aaron to enter into his holy work knowing that he carries on the legacy of his forebears.

This brings us back to Hanukkah and the idea that the objects aren’t just objects. They are us. This concept of hearkening back and assigning human identity is part of contemporary Judaism on other holidays as well. On Shabbat we can light two candles, as has become tradition, or we can light one candle for each person in our house. When we atone at Yom Kippur, we know that we stand in atonement with the merit of ourselves and also the merit of those who have come before us in all generations. What’s so beautiful about Judaism is that you can look at our observance and see a lot of traditions, or you can look at our traditions and see a lot of us.