Emor - The Same Coin
Only by accepting our divinely given challenges can we fulfill our destiny.
I would like to thank everyone who participated in our Tekes Maavar last Monday. The transition we experienced that evening inspired us all, helping us move from the anxiety of war toward our hopeful aspirations for the future of Israel.
It's fitting that this week's parsha, Emor, mirrors such transitions. Emor is a dual-themed portion, beginning with the source of the laws of mourning and continuing with a list of our Jewish holidays. Interestingly, this juxtaposition is also found in the Gemara: Mesechet Moed Katan covers the rules of Chol Hamoed—the intermediate days within Pesach and Sukkot—and is also known for outlining the laws of mourning.
In the same vein, the Omer period is included in our Parsha’s catalogue of holidays, and the Ramban specifically confirms that it is indeed a holiday, a Chol HaMoed for the weeks between Pesach and Shavuot. Yet we observe these weeks as a time to grieve for the students of Rabbi Akiva who tragically perished during this period.
We find the same surprising juxtaposition in the timing of the 4 holy days we celebrate in modern times. It cannot simply be a coincidence that all four holidays fall within the Omer period. Moreover, 2 of those days are occasions for mourning -- Yom HaShoah and Yom Hazikaron – and 2 are days of celebration -- Yom Ha’atzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim.
What do we make of this strange sequence of sad and joyful occasions? I think it exemplifies a theme that runs through the entire book of Vayikra: that is, two elements that seem diametrically opposed but are actually 2 sides of the same coin.
For example, in Parshat Shmini, the topic of Korbanot, Sacrificial meat, is juxtaposed with a discussion about ordinary meat, including kosher and nonkosher animals. And it’s notable that the Gemara also takes this approach; the seder/section that discusses the topic of Kodshim, meat prepared for ritual purposes- korbanot- includes within it Mesechet Chulin, meat prepared for mundane consumption.
Similarly, Parshiot Tazria and Metzorah deal with tumah v’tahara, the impurity and purity relating to tzaraat/leprosy and zavut/bodily emissions.
What is the message of this theme in Sefer Vayikra? I think it’s a lesson we can discover in the last section of this week’s parsha, within a story that at first glance seems out of place. We read about the blasphemer, who complains that he feels rejected by his tribe of Dan, because he is the son of an Egyptian man and Jewish woman, making his tribal affiliation suspect. In response, he curses God and is put to death. This seems grossly unfair – just because he was born into a challenging situation, should he suffer as an outcast? The message is clear: even if we dislike the circumstances of our birth and face aspects of life beyond our control, as difficult as it is, we must accept the fact that some decisions are made by God and are therefore outside the realm of our control.
On the one hand, life presents many unfair challenges that we must accept because they are God’s decrees. On the other hand, if we accept these divine decrees, we are then given the unique opportunity to develop and express our individuality within the context of God’s will, ironically discovering that this was the only context in which we could become the person we were meant to be.
This duality is the essence of Sefer Vayikra. Kodshim involves elements we might find unpleasant – blood and guts – but ultimately korbanot are what God wants; they are a reiach nichoach, God’s deep desire. On the other hand, the mundane food we consume is called reshut, the choice is ours; we decide whether to eat meat or not.
And our parsha begins with the source of the rules of mourning/grieving because, as we've explained before, the word “aveilut” stems from “aval,” which means both “definitive acceptance” and also "but/however," a word that expresses transition. When our loved one dies, we follow God’s laws of mourning, which allow us to definitively accept our loss as God’s decree, despite our understandable reluctance. Only then do we have the freedom to transition and move on in our own unique way.
This message is crucial as we face a seemingly impossible situation today, surrounded by enemies on all sides. This idea was highlighted in the recent Eurovision competition. Eden Golan’s stunning performance nearly won Israel the popular vote, placing second overall and first in the "rest of the world" category. However, she and her team faced constant harassment and mockery; they were brought to tears by the hostility and were in fear for their lives throughout the event.
Israel should have ranked much higher than fifth, but it’s known that the judges were apprehensive about harming their own reputations - or worse - if they voted for Israel.
The scourge of antisemitism on college campuses and around the world is not a fleeting issue; it has been brewing globally for decades since the Holocaust, waiting to resurface. The war in Gaza is just the latest pretext for the unrivaled hatred experienced by Jews throughout our history. A recent cartoon encapsulates this: two women at a cocktail party, one saying, "I like being an anti-Zionist—it lets me be antisemitic without the guilt!"
The only solution is to accept all of God’s decisions and remember one critical fact: the land of Israel was given to us in God’s unbreakable covenant with Abraham and the Jewish people. It is our destiny, an inescapable truth, regardless of our personal views. Every step we take must reflect this truth, allowing us to emerge from this war, reaffirm our covenant with God, and move toward a happier time when we can fully express ourselves and proudly retain our place as a thriving Jewish nation of incredibly special individuals. Shabbat Shalom.
Copyright 2024 Eliezer Hirsch