This week, our parasha is Emor from the Book of Leviticus. It contains many instructions for the Kohanim, the priests.  Who they can marry, how they are to conduct themselves, and how they are to eat their portions of the offerings are all included. There are even prohibitions concerning how they are to mourn the death of a loved one. Yet, far from being a dry recitation of do’s and don’ts for the priests, this portion lays out certain foundational pieces of Judaism.

A social welfare system is called into being with a prohibition against harvesting the entirety of a crop. The corners of the fields are to be left for those who are in need, the disenfranchised in the  community. The three pilgrimage festivals, marking the agricultural cycle in the Land of Israel, are set before us.  Passover (the Time of Our Freedom), Shavuot (the Time of the Giving of the Torah), and Sukkot (the Time of Our Rejoicing), each also marking a harvest time, are given their dates of observance, linking us to the Land of Israel and nature, no matter where we live. This is a linkage that in spite of the efforts of those who sought to destroy us, and in spite of our exile from the Land for 2,000 years, has not been shattered.

This Torah Portion also includes one of the most misunderstood laws in Judaism.  Ghandi, apparently not understanding its context or intent, rather famously derided it. He said that an eye for an eye would leave the whole world blind. If the statement in our Torah Portion that one should take, “an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth,” was taken literally, it would indeed be a brutal, barbaric law. However, it was never meant to be taken literally, and in fact serves as the basis for part of modern justice. The real meaning of the statement is that we are to fit the punishment to the crime, and establish just amounts of damage payments for the harm that was done.  

This section stands as a stark reminder that we must engage our brains when reading Torah.  As my teacher, Rabbi Doctor David Ellenson of blessed memory taught me, we must ask three questions of our texts. First, what did it mean in its original context, to our ancient ancestors, in their time and place? Second, what has our Tradition come to say about it? Third, and most importantly, what does this text mean to me, and how will it affect my life? This seems to be a hallmark of Reform Judaism, and the approach we are supposed to take to our religion. We are not to reject the tenets of our religion without first studying them, considering them, and then contemplating their value in living our lives in the best possible way.

While I understand what Ghandi was trying to project out into the world, namely the power of forgiveness and nonviolence, I remain proud of the statement in the Torah. It represented a major advancement in civilized society, and today it continues to guide us and challenge us to seek justice in what we do. We may fail in the endeavor along the way, but we dare not let a failure become an excuse to stop continually attempting to improve ourselves, and our society and the world.

Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Marv