This week’s Parsha, Emor, discusses all the major holidays of the Jewish calendar. Although these holidays are also mentioned elsewhere, our Parsha adds detail, such as Shofar on Rosh Hashana, abstention on Yom Kippur, lulav and Etrog on Sukkot. However, when discussing the holiday of Shavuot, the Torah briefly discusses a seemingly unrelated topic regarding leaving the corners of a field and droppings of one’s harvest for the poor (23:22). After this one Passuk, the Torah goes back to describe the rest of the holidays. Why was this seemingly random law of charity inserted into the discussion regarding the holidays?

Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky explains that the Torah is declaring that the commandments to be kind, giving and loving of others is just as non-negotiable as the commandments to keep Shabbat, Pesach and Sukkot. We have a divine duty to be kind, even if we would have been kind anyway, and especially if we would have found justifications to the contrary. This obligation is not always easy to adhere to, but even more rewarding when we do.

Parshat Kedoshim includes the famous Mitzvah (commandment) to “love your neighbor as yourself” (19:18). Rabbi Akiva exclaimed that this is a great principle of the Torah, but what does it really mean, and it is really possible to love someone as yourself?

Rabbi David Fohrman explores the context of this commandment and provides practical insight. The commandment starts the Passuk (verse) before, when we are instructed to 1) not hate our brothers in our heart, 2) admonish your fellow, 3) don’t take revenge or hold a grudge, and finally 4) love your neighbor as yourself. There is clearly a process that ends in love, and it ironically begins with hate. If someone does something wrong, the Torah is saying that it’s ok to hate it, but it’s not appropriate to keep that hate in your heart. Rather, privately tell them about it in, communicate for their sake as well as yours. That way you won’t hold a grudge or end up doing something to retaliate. Being open and honest with those around us in a constructive way will allow us to at worst understand them, and at best to love and respect them.

Parshat Acharei Mot contains the broad instructions to “keep my laws and rules (those that can be understood along with those that can’t) that we should perform and live by them…” (18:5). Rashi explains that living with the laws and rules brings eternal reward, and the Mishna (Makot 23:2) adds that “performing” includes avoiding negative actions in addition to performing positive ones. In one Passuk we are asked to 1) keep, 2) perform and 3) live by the laws of the Torah, but how are we to understand these three different directives? 

The Lekach Tov offers a unique reading of the Passuk: Performing the laws and rules is a level of observance that is required to maintain our relationship with G-d. However, to gain eternal benefit from those laws and rules requires that we not only perform them, but also keep them safe. But what does it mean to keep laws and rules safe, and how do we do it? One answer lies not only in adhering to Rabbinic restrictions designed to prevent missteps, but by increasing mindfulness. The Torah is filled with laws and rules that involve sensitivities toward others, from appreciating G-d’s gifts to appreciating the plight of the convert. This all-encompassing Passuk highlights not only the basic (2) performance of commandments, but the benefits of (1) being mindful of others’ situations, which will lead us to (3) live a life full of purpose and perpetual giving, which is its own eternal reward.

Parshat Metzora describes the prescribed treatment for the “nega” (malady) of Tzara’at, which includes 2 birds (one is killed, the other is freed), cedar wood, a scarlet thread, an ezov branch and a 7-day wait (14:4). Rabbi David Fohrman points out the only other time a “nega” is mentioned in the Torah is when G-d describes preparation for the 10th plague with the Korban Pesach (Exodus 11:1). Similar to Tzara’at, it includes an ezov branch, wood (door frames), and two birds/nations, one going free, while the other perishes. Why is the processing of purifying the metzora mirror that of the Pesach offering?

Rabbi Fohrman suggests that the Pesach offering was the first time that the Jewish family entity was created, a cohesive family unit as a part of a nation. The person afflicted with Tzara’at distanced themselves from the community by speaking slander, and must be quarantined until they learn to appreciate both the family and community that we are all a part of.

As we head into Pesach, we reconnect with family, with our heritage and past, and teach our children about our history. Just like all the ingredients in purifying the metzora and those of the korban Pesach are items with life (wood/trees, branches, birds, etc) so must our family experience be filled with life, hope and lessons from the past in order to inspire a better tomorrow. 

One of the maladies discussed in Parshat Tazria is the tzara’at/nega (lesion) that affects clothing (13:45-59), which the Gemara (Eruchin) explains that although it is often caused by speaking negatively about others (Lashon hara), it can also be induced by “stinginess”, a derivation of the word “Tzara’at” being “tzar,” or narrow. A strange rule is introduced when the Kohen observes that the lesion doesn’t change its “ayin” after being washed (13:55). Typically an “ayin” is an eye, but what does an eye have to do with a lesion found on clothing?

The Chidushai HaRim explains that there is a double meaning for the word “ayin”. It means “eye”, but it’s also the letter ayin used in the word “nega”. It turns out that if you move the ayin in the word “nega” to the beginning of the word, it forms the word “oneg”, which means “joy.” The Torah is telling us that if the person doesn’t shift their perspective, they and their clothes remain unclean. Luckily, turning stinginess to joy only requires a slight adjustment to our perspective, and has the effect of reorienting us entirely.

People often associate stinginess and joy with finances, but the truth is that happiness has little to do with money, and a lot to do with our attitude. Our Parsha is highlighting that focusing on others’ happiness has the benefit of increasing their happiness, and the fringe benefit of adding to ours as well. 

Parshat Tzav lists the various types of sacrifices one would bring. The first one described is the Olah, which is completely sacrificed, with no opportunities for the priests to partake, and he brought twice a day, every day (6:2). This is followed by the Micha, Chatat and Asham offerings. The last one described is the Shlamim, given as an expression of gratitude (not related to any sin), and that is shared with the Kohen and the donor as well (7:11-15). Is there a reason for this particular order?

It could be that the sequence is a practical lesson for us: Relationships need to start with constant selfless giving. Parents are introduced to this form of giving early on, even before the child is born, but it’s true for all our relationships, with friends, spouses and G-d. If you follow that with devoting a portion of your efforts to others (Mincha offerings), followed by apologizing when we do something wrong (Chatat and Asham offerings), we’ll hopefully get to the point of thankfulness (Shlamim offering) and those around us for all that we have been blessed with.

Among the intricate laws presented in Parshat Vayikra is that “If a soul touches something impure… and the fact escapes him, he is unclean, and guilty” (5:2). From the text alone it is unclear if he is guilty of touching something impure or of forgetting that he’s unclean and subsequently touching something holy that he wasn’t allowed to touch. Commentaries differ in their interpretation. The Ramban points out that becoming pure is not a sin, and touching something holy while one is impure is not a sin. If that’s so, what is this person actually guilty of?

The answer may lie in the ambiguity of this law. Guilt is not borne of the specific act of accidentally becoming impure, nor of unintentionally touching a holy object. Rather, the guilt stems from an overall carelessness for one’s actions. That may also be why our Passuk describes a soul rather than a person, because our actions affect our souls, whether intentional or not. The Torah could be teaching us that both our actions and their consequences impact our soul, and require care and thoughtful diligence. 

Parshat Behar includes the rare occasion of the Torah asking a question for us. When describing the laws of Shmita (leaving the land unattended every seventh year), the Torah says “and if you should say ‘What will we eat in the seventh year?'” (25:20). The answer given is that G-d will supply enough food in the sixth year to last three years, long enough for the land to start producing again. Why is the Torah asking the question for us, rather than just letting us know that food will be supplied?

Rabbi Lazer Gurkow answers that if you read the Passuk carefully, it says “if you should SAY”, demonstrating that the question is less of a quarrel and more of a statement of submission. When asked with humility, G-d rewards our trust with plenty. The Torah is not only informing us of the Shmita plans, but also showing us that our attitude and disposition when asking tough questions is as important as the questions themselves.

Among many things, Parshat Emor lays down instructions for the Kohanim (Priests) to remain holy. Instructions include not coming in contact with dead bodies, and growing their beards and hair (21:1-5). Recanati (13th Century) points out an interesting difference between the instructions for the Kohamin to remain “holy”, and those of the Levites to be “pure”. What is the difference, and why?

Recanati goes on to explain that being pure is simply a result of avoiding anything unclean, while being holy is an active quality of setting yourself apart. The Levites had to shave their hair, while the Kohanim grew it because ridding yourself of impurity requires shedding the past, while being holy requires working on yourself for the future. As a people, we need to be both pure AND holy, and learn to merge the past with our future.

Parshat Kedoshim is one of several that tries to instill “Jewish Values”, one of which is the commandment not to steal. In an effort to drive home the point, the Torah uses several terms that seem redundant, when it says “Do not steal, do not deny falsely, and do not lie to one another” (19:11). Other than making sure we get the point, what is the significance of these specific forms of honesty being listed?

The Gemara in Makot (24a) sheds some light by saying that the Torah is telling us to speak the truth in our hearts, like Rav Safra did. The Gemara goes on to tell the story of Rav Safra who was davening (praying) when someone came to buy something from him. When Rav Safra didn’t respond because he was praying, the buyer raised his price several times, until finally Rav Safra finished praying and responded. Rav Safra insisted on selling the object at his original price, even though the man offered more because in his heart Rav Safra agreed to the first price.

The Torah is driving home that we should not steal in actions or words. That means not manipulating people to get what you desire, not distorting words to fit your opinion, and not frivolously demanding from others. If we live by these Torah values, we’ll hopefully fully value them.