Have you seen the new Mean Girls? The 2024 movie is based on the stage musical version of the story, which is based on the 2004 movie of the same name. I love Mean Girls. I love it because of the social commentary about how we’ve trained ourselves to judge people (particularly women and girls) and objectify their bodies.

To clarify, I don’t love that “mean girls” exist. The constant picking apart of superficial traits is at best unhelpful and at worst destructive. But I do love the conversation starter this movie can become. In a classic scene, the “mean girls” are looking in the mirror and each one is talking about what they hate the most about their bodies. The character played by Linsday Lohan is new to this kind of behavior and just sort of looks at the other girls wondering why they would pick themselves apart. 

To me, the inherent question is if this is what negative body talk looks like, what would positive body talk look like? What does it look like to examine yourself in the mirror and appreciate what you see? What does it look like to love yourself? This question is central to our Torah portion this week. Parshat Kedoshim is referred to as the “holiness code” because of the rules included within it. The laws in this section of text are centrally focused on the ways in which we are to treat one another. Don’t charge undue interest, don’t put a stumbling block before the blind. Generally speaking, these laws are all about creating a community built on recognizing the holiness in each and every human being.

The most well-known of these laws is “love your fellow as you love yourself.” I struggle with this mitzvah, not because I don’t love other people, but because of what it really means to love ourselves. What if you don’t love yourself as much as you should? If you’re hardest on yourself, does this mean that you should be hard on your neighbors? Furthermore, does loving your neighbor as yourself mean that love overrules the rebuke that might come if the neighbor were to make you uncomfortable?

If you occasionally struggle to love yourself, you might find comfort in another verse, which begins, “Do not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your countrymen.” Perhaps we can infer that if you should love your neighbors (countrymen) as you love yourself, then likewise you should not bear a grudge against yourself either. In other words, if love is challenging (when is it not), you can at least start from a place that’s free from vengeance and grudges. We can’t be expected to go from being mean girls straight to being caring and accepting. There’s a process, a transformation. And sometimes the path to love of others and ourselves includes a critical middle step: don’t be mean.

When I was a child, there was nothing worse than someone saying they were “disappointed in me.” At that stage in my life, it was either my parents or someone else I respected, but it’s still painful to hear even now. Why does that simple phrase sting so much? It’s not the simple act of causing disappointment, which can be out of our control sometimes. It’s the feeling that for that brief moment we’ve broken a special bond of trust with someone we love. 

Think about it this way: can you recall a time when someone you barely knew told you that you disappointed them? And on the slim chance it did happen, did you feel as crushed as if it came from someone you admired, respected, and had an established relationship with? I’m guessing the answer is no. The sting of a broken bond or promise between two people who’ve built not only a connection, but certain expectations with one another, is deep. This is all the more true with God and the Israelite nation as we read in the Torah.

This week we read Parshat Kedoshim. 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 understanding.

Parshat Kedoshim is built on the primary understanding that God and the Israelite nation are not merely business partners. They are much more intimately connected than that; the relationship often parallels that of a committed couple, as in a marriage. We see this when the text begins, “You are holy because I, the Lord your God, am holy,” and continues as the reason for each of the boundaries and laws set out moving forward. However, this idea is never more clearly stated than when God is sharing what will happen should God ever be disappointed in the new nation. 

Chapter 20, verse 6 specifically delineates the punishments that will come to any person who chooses to worship another god. The Hebrew word used is liznot, translated as “going astray.” But the meaning isn’t quite that simple; it has the connotation of marriage vows. This is because worshiping another god is akin to cheating on God as an intimate partner. Again, the relationship between God and the Israelite nation runs much deeper than a transactional one, where simply following the rules leads to reward. 

Is there a pang of hurt when you disappoint someone you love? Yes, and it’s natural. Just like our relationships with each other, our relationship with God is built on mutual love and loyalty, and it’s because of that foundation that we strive to be our best selves in those partnerships.

My dad told me I couldn’t have my ears pierced until I was 16. Over time I eventually wore him down to 8 years old, and then when I turned 16, I put a second hole in my ears. When I was 17 years old, all I wanted was to pierce my belly button. I begged my parents for permission to do so, but they kept telling me no. I vowed that when I was 18 I would just go do it myself. I was convinced that a belly button piercing was what I needed, but my father kept reminding me that as Jews we don’t pierce our bodies beyond our ears. I was a teenager, so needless to say I didn’t care. Right after I turned 18, my parents gave in (or gave up) and said they were ok with a pierced belly button as long as I went to a clean and safe place to do it. Of course once I had their permission, my rebellious urge was gone, and I never went through with it. To this day, my mom claims that was their plan all along.

When it came to body piercing (and ear piercing), my dad’s argument had always been that the Torah says we don’t pierce or permanently change our bodies. Supposedly the consequence for doing so was that you could not be buried in a Jewish cemetery after you died. Well, he was partially right.

This week we read Parshat Kedoshim. 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.

The Holiness Code goes deeper than our standard interpersonal relationships. It focuses on the holiness of the relationships we have with ourselves, our neighbors, and with God. One of the ways in which we establish and maintain holiness is through our bodies. Chapter 19, verse 28 teaches, “You shall not make gashes in your flesh for the dead, or incise any marks on yourselves: I am the Lord.” We are taught through this verse that holiness means respect for one’s body. The prohibition against incising any marks on your flesh is meant to teach us that our bodies are already perfect vessels, and we shouldn’t permanently change them with piercings or surgery.

While tattooing or piercing does not prohibit a Jew from being buried in a Jewish cemetery, those things are technically prohibited. But I’ll be honest. As far as I’m concerned, what you do to your body is really none of my business. The real takeaway here is how the Torah reminds us of the importance of positive body image. Parshat Kedoshim reminds us that holiness is not reserved for the synagogue or prayer or even politeness around others. We have a sacred mandate to view ourselves and our bodies as vessels for holiness and to treat them as such. And if my children ask to pierce their ears before 16, only time will tell if I can hold out longer than my parents did.