Parashat Emor
Sacred Time & Space
The Jewish concept of holiness is bound to notions of sacred time and
space--and reaching out to those in need.
By Rabbi Elliot Rose Kukla
This commentary is provided by special arrangement with
American Jewish World Service. To learn more, visit www.ajws.org.
Sarah, a member of my
congregation, once explained to me why she was proudly a "bad Jew."
She had hated her traditional religious upbringing. As soon as she left home
she proudly embraced a fully secular lifestyle. Although she eventually found
her way back to Judaism through belonging to a liberal synagogue, Sarah told me
that she was a member purely for cultural reasons, because of her connection to
Jewish social justice values, and she still eschewed any form of religious
observance.
"Let me tell you how 'bad a Jew' I truly am. Every
Shabbos morning," she told me, "I sleep late. Then I make bacon for
breakfast and eat it slowly, savoring the smell and the flavor, while reading
the paper and catching up on how to be involved in world events. I look forward
to that moment all week long."
"I hate to break this to you," I told her,
"but it sounds to me like you are keeping Shabbos!"
Setting Aside Sacred Time
"On six days work may be done," we read in this
week’s portion, "but on the seventh day there shall be a Sabbath of
complete rest, a sacred occasion (Leviticus 23:3)." When Sarah sets aside
time that feels sacred to her, both for her own pleasure and to connect
empathetically to people in the world around her, she unwittingly keeps the
most essential commandment of Shabbat.
Parshat Emor
contains 63 of the Torah’s 613 mitzvot, many of which direct us on how
to sanctify time. Chapter 24 of Leviticus deals with the laws of Shabbat and
holiday observance. In this chapter we learn about the timing of the Jewish
calendar--when to eat matzah, when to
blow the shofar, and when to observe other annual
rites.
Yet, buried within this lavishly detailed chapter we find a
seemingly anomalous verse: "When you reap the harvest of your land, you
shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings
of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I, the
Eternal One, am your God (Leviticus 23:22)."
This verse contains one of the most famous commandments of
the Torah--the mitzvah of pe’ah
(leaving the corners of our fields for the poor), which is the underpinning for
many of the contemporary laws of tzedakah
(just giving). Why is this injunction to feed the poor found among detailed
rules for celebrating the Sabbath and festivals?
Time & Space
The placement of this verse offers insight into the true
meaning of Jewish holiness. The Hebrew word for holiness, kedushah, literally means set aside, designated as different. In
this portion, the obligations to sanctify space and time are woven together. We
sanctify our time by putting aside our daily occupations and designating
Shabbat and holy days as sacred. We sanctify space by putting aside the corners
of our "field" for those in need due to poverty or estrangement.
When Sarah reads the paper and cooks "Shabbos
bacon," she is taking a first step toward fulfilling the vision of this
portion. She is making the day holy by setting aside time for her own version
of a sacred moment. She is also engaging with the concept of sacred space by
reading about world events. However, Sarah (like most of us) is only beginning
to express the values of this portion. The sanctification of time and the
sanctification of space are inextricably bound through action.
What if we make the values of the Torah real by binding
together our celebrations of Shabbat, holy days, and other joyous occasions
with setting aside corners of our modern-day fields (our money and resources)
with concrete actions that meet the needs of others?
What if we allocate ten percent of the money we put into our
weddings and bnai mitzvah to feed
those in need in our neighborhoods? What if every time we plan a holiday meal
in our congregation, our synagogue also supports a community in the Global
South in need of food?
In the coming year, may our holidays be holy in the fullest
sense of the word--a moment when we set aside both time and space for our own
sacred delight, as well as an opportunity to express our radical compassion for
the needs of others through acts of justice and giving.
Rabbi Elliot
Rose Kukla is an activist, writer, organizer, and educator.