Acharey
Mot- Kedoshim |
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Dr Annette M. Boeckler | ||
Acharey Mot-Kedoshim [Leo Baeck College Devar Torah 2013] Written by Dr Annette Miriam Boeckler This week’s double portion Acharey-Mot
Kedoshim (Lev
16-20) contains two central texts of Progressive Judaism since its
beginnings:
the most debated one and the most adored one. The founders of Progressive Judaism in the 19th
century despised the antique Yom Kippur ritual with its goats and bulls
and
blood and priestly rituals as depicted in Acharey-Mot. It was
regarded
as meaningless for today and most progressive congregations thus
changed the
traditional avodah service on Yom Kippur praising these goats-
and bulls-rituals
into something that would express modern thinking, something about
God’s
presence in the universe from creation to redemption, or something
similar. Leviticus
16 – and animal sacrifice in general - became a litmus test for
progressive
Jews worldwide. Classical Progressive Judaism also changed
the torah
readings on Yom Kippur: Why reading Leviticus 16 (“Achare Mot”)
when it
has become meaningless. Instead of it the most beautiful passage just a
few
chapters behind became THE prominent text in Progressive Judaism, read
in many
congregations since the 19th century on Yom Kippur morning
and
quoted a lot during the rest of the year: Leviticus 19: Kedoshim.
This
passage, containing verses as “Love your neighbour as
yourself” was seen as the
best summary of the ethical values of the torah, dealing mainly with
social
justice, expressing brilliantly the ethical values of Progressive
Judaism. The relationship between rituals and ethics
was one of the
themes of the late Rabbi John Rayner z”l. In a sermon he once
said: “The truth
of the matter is that there are in Judaism, as in every other
tradition, both
religious and secular, rituals which, not to mince words, are silly,
either
because they symbolize an idea that makes no sense or because there is
no
intelligible connection between the symbol and the idea it is supposed
to
symbolize. ... But that leaves plenty of rituals which are not
susceptible to
either of these objections. The Sefer Torah, the Sabbath candles, the
Kiddush
wine, the Matzah and Maror, the Shofar, the Sukkah, the Chanukkah
Menorah –
these and scores more are acceptable rituals because we can understand
and
approve what they symbolize and because we can understand and
approve
the way in which they symbolize it. But granted that they are
acceptable, we still have to ask: How important are they?”[1]
According to Rabbi John Rayner a ritual only has its right, if it would
make
you “spiritually fit as a person to act rightly towards other
persons. ... If
it becomes an end in itself, then it is a selfish enterprise, as
selfish as
taking drugs.” Rituals themselves are “as important to the
religious person as
finger exercises are to the pianist ... ritual is not the practice
of
religion. To practise religion is to lead the good life and to work for
the
good society.” Transferred to this week’s double
parasha it would mean that
its first part, Acharey Mot, would be just the warm up for Kedoshim
(if not an obsolete ritual anyway). Should there is not enough time for
any
warm ups, one may start with the main activity, it’s of course
not
recommendable but possible. A good pianist can pretty well produce at
least
some music without finger exercises in advance. I disagree with John Rayner on his
subordination of rituals.
(I dare to, as we had good similar discussions during his lifetime and
he loved
my questioning.) In my opinion ritual and ethics are as inseparable as
the
portions Acharey-Mot and Kedoshim this week, because it
is only
the ritual side of Judaism that makes our social action Jewish.
If
compared with a pianist, then Acharey Mot would be the first
part of the
piece he plays, which sets the tone, Kedoshim the second.
Therefore, in
my view, for a Jewish life – not only in its orthodox
interpretation but
generally - the mitzvah of laying tefillin is indeed as
important as the
mitzvah of loving your neighbour as yourself, because as we have a
responsibility for our world, we also have a responsibility for our
spiritual
Jewish heritage. The common rituals create both, community across
boundaries
and personalized Jewish identity. We learn something important in the
ritualistic first half
of this week’s portion, Acharey Mot, that is missing in
its ethical
second half, Kedoshim: “Tell your brother Aaron that he
is not to
come at all times into the holy place.” (Lev 16:2). There are
people who have
certain ritual functions. For them there is a time for closeness to God
and
there is a time for not coming into God’s presence. And this is
not so because
of cultic uncleanness – as we learned so much about in last
week’s parashah,
but now even somebody who is holy ex officio, must not enter
God’s presence
except when ritually authorized and in a special ritual way, only with
incense
to create enough fog and mist to not to see the ark itself, the place
under God’s
presence. Till today most rituals are time bound and their performance
defined.
This is, how they become special and how they make a certain moment
exceptional. Israel knew that God’s presence rested
above the tabernacle
constantly and that God’s presence was among the people of Israel
the whole
time – we can trust that God is there -, but obviously
God’s holiness is not
something to be approachable at any time of free choice, something
difficult to
understand in these times and days, where anything has to be available
immediately 24/7. We need to be reachable constantly, we twitter our
feelings
or just gained knowledge into the world on spot, information has to be
resourced immediately from anywhere with our phones or ipads. We would
expect
that one can enter into God’s presence at any time from anywhere,
wouldn’t we?
But the ritual side of Judaism teaches us, that this is not possible.
Encountering
God means periods of waiting, of distance, of profane or less holy
activities
outside of the darkness of the holy of holies. The more easy we get
access to
something, the greater the loss of its value and specialness.
God’s liturgical presence
however, is most special. It is connected with fixed ritual times and
fixed
ritual manners. Holiness is beyond our availability and power
and
spontaneous needs. Coming from this ritual understanding of
holiness, the
second half of this weeks parasha, originally so easily understood as
the ethical
essence of Progressive Judaism, now becomes difficult. Israel is told:
“You
shall strive to become holy, because I am holy, says your God”
(19:2). If God’s
holiness means, that God is the ultimate separate, mostly not
approachable,
what does it mean, that we should ourselves strive to become holy like
God?
Suddenly this beautiful chapter may suddenly even question Progressive
Judaism’s universalism. But maybe “you shall strive to be
holy” is not the
headline of the mitzvot that follow – as it is often understand
(already Rashbam
did so), but just one single mitzvah in its own? (Rashi understood it
as a
individual commandment about sexual relationships connecting chapter 18
and 19.)
Or is Nachmanides right who said: “God is saying: Just as I keep
Myself
separate, you too must keep yourselves separate.” But then again,
when reading
chapter 19: what in it would be something, that would make us special?
Are not most
of these noble predictions common, humanist rules for good social
behaviour in
general? What is this “holiness” that God has and that he
asks us, his people,
to imitate? Something to think about this coming shabbat. Dr Annette M. Boeckler is lecturer for
liturgy at Leo
Baeck College and responsible for the management of its library. [1]
Sermon Nr 623, 20.3.1976 Shabbat Tzav, LJS. (copy held in Leo Baeck
College
Library) All following quotes are taken from this sermon. |
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source: www.annette-boeckler.de |