After Death, Holy

We always have the opportunity to rise above our human flaws.

Commentary on Parashat Achrei Mot-Kedoshim, Leviticus 16:1 - 20:27

Commentary on Parshat Ahare Mot (Leviticus 16:1-18:30) and Parshat Kedoshim (Leviticus 19:1-20:27)

Provided by American Jewish World Service, pursuing global justice through grassroots change.

Ahare Mot, Kedoshim. After Death, Holy. The mysterious yet evocative sound of the titles of this double parsha uttered together hints at the relationship between darkness and luminescence. It reveals a tension between two dimensions of the human experience: our potential for fallibility and distance from divinity, and our potential for virtue and closeness to divinity.

AJWS logoThe opening passages of these Torah portions accentuate this provocative dissonance. Parshat Ahare Mot begins: “God spoke to Moses after the death of the two sons of Aaron, when they drew too close to the presence of God and died. God said to Moses: Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come at will into the Shrine behind the curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, lest he die; for I appear in the cloud over the cover.” (Leviticus 16:1-2)

We immediately confront death, tied to a realization that we are not godly. In contrast, Parshat Kedoshim opens: “God spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the whole Israelite community and say to them: You shall be holy, for I, God, am holy.” (Leviticus 19:1-2) We can be holy like the Divine.

These portrayals of humanity seem utterly contradictory, but from the depths of these contradictions there emerges a clear path of personal growth. When we open ourselves to darkness–when we honestly look upon mortality, suffering, and failure, in ourselves and in our world–we can elevate ourselves to higher planes. After Death, Holy.

Yom Kippur & Always

Yom Kippur, a main focus of Parshat Ahare Mot, beckons us to face the existential truth of our mortality and estrangement from divinity. The very concept of an annual Day of Atonement exposes us to sobering mirrors.

It reminds us that we quite helplessly slip into carelessness, corruption, and insensitivity, separating us further from the Divine. We are commanded to practice “self denial” on this day, and our consequent waves of humbling hunger remind us just how human and near to death we are.

When we fail to respond to suffering in the world, when we do not help people who are in dire need, our estrangement from divinity increases. According to Jewish law, we are obligated to help people in danger whenever we are aware of their predicament. In our age of globalization, when so much information is literally at our fingertips, we cannot plead ignorance.

As long as we squander $20 bills that could otherwise purchase enough maize to feed a family for six months in Ethiopia or a flock of chicks for a family in Cameroon, we are guilty. As long as starvation, persecution, and death from preventable diseases abound in our world, we are not entirely blameless. When we bury our heads in the sand in order to avoid feelings of responsibility, we are nonetheless responsible for these acts of omission.

Our destructive acts of commission are an even more serious matter. We increase global injustice through our actions. For example, as long as we buy coffee, clothes, and electronics from companies that exploit workers in the Global South, we are personally culpable. When we speak or behave in ways that undermine women, homosexuals, the financially disadvantaged, or any other marginalized people, we feed forces of oppression in the world.

Parshat Ahare Mot forcefully directs our consciousness to the fact that we will inevitably mess up again and again, eclipsing divinity in our lives. This disturbing reality is why the practice of Yom Kippur is hukkat olam (Leviticus 16:29, 31, 34)–a law for all time, for all the world. We are only human. To face this complicated truth is tantamount to facing death itself.

Yet these parshiyot remind us that human culpability is just the beginning of a sacred journey.

After Death, Holy.

The Torah teaches that we, despite our inadequacies, have the capacity to be holy. Although holiness is difficult for us to conceptualize, Parshat Kedoshim suggests that it has everything to do with righteousness, justice, and generosity. We are commanded to be honest in our dealings, to feed the poor, and to treat disempowered people with dignity. Coming on the heels of Parshat Ahare Mot’s discussion of Yom Kippur, Parshat Kedoshim suggests that serious introspection can stimulate ethical and spiritual growth.

The inspiring view of humanity in Parshat Kedoshim is not an alternative, per se, to the disillusioning view in Parshat Ahare Mot. This pair of paradigms reflects an evolution of our nature and potential: to embrace both modes of being is to evolve into stronger global citizens.

We will sin, we will miss the mark, distancing ourselves from the Divine, and yet we will always have the opportunity — in fact, the duty — to try to rise above our human flaws. It is a blessing that we read these two portions together many years, for it empowers us to be mindful of our weaknesses, our deleterious tendencies, and our dark places within; and from there, to better ourselves, to seek the light, coming ever closer to holiness.

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