D'var Torah, Parshat Emor

(I wrote this for Kesher services today)

Shabbat shalom from Paris! I wish I could be there with you to give this D’var Torah myself, but thank you to Mickey, for reading this for me.

Parshat Emor is very interesting. Truly. We get rules for the kohein, the priests, the practices for the holidays, we also get the famous phrase, “eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.” If I were to go with the latter phrase, I would probably share a story about a fight I had with my sister, Emma, and lessons I’ve learned from her. But having been abroad for a year has caused me to reflect on things more profound in my Judaism than on my relationship with Emma, without any disrespect to her. She’s the best.

So, while reading the Parshat for this week, I was caught between two observations. One, that God gives Moses and the Jewish people the important holidays, which define the lives of today’s Jews all across the world. Two, some of the rules, particularly those regarding sex and marriage, but also the consequences for not observing to the T some of the holidays are quite strict, if not violent. Women, especially those related to priests, really have a hard time of it.

I don’t know how to handle those two aspects. How could a peaceful and loving God, that of Judaism, who gives us comfort from a religious, spiritual, cultural, or traditional standpoint condone stoning and ostracizing?

Ok, well, there’s my personal struggle: how do I handle my Judaism if I am slightly offended by and I don’t abide by these rules? Moreover, how does Reform Judaism deal with rules like these, but maintain the core practices of tradition? For example, in Parashat Emor, God lays out the practices of Yom Kippur saying, “For it is a Day of Atonement, on which expiation is made on your behalf before the Lord your God. 29 Indeed, any person who does not practice self-denial throughout that day shall be cut off from his kin; 30 and whoever does any work throughout that day, I will cause that person to perish from among his people. 31 Do no work whatever; it is a law for all time, throughout the ages in all your settlements.”

Have you ever been cut off from your kin for not fasting on Yom Kippur? Or maybe you’ve all fasted.

Regardless, I think passages like this pose an essential question about how we personally understand Judaism, but also how Kesher, our Jewish communities at home, and how our movement does as well. One of the most important lessons I learned about my own attitude to Judaism and to Reform Judaism was at Cornell. It is the following: that whatever choice we make about our practices and our beliefs, that they should be conscientious and well informed. For example, I might like to hear the names of the Imahot in the Avidah, because my name is Sarah, but in Reform Judaism and in Kesher we say those names in recognition of the role of women in the Torah because equality between the sexes is an important value for us. It is for decisions like that in the Reform Judaism that is practiced today that I can personally reconcile passages like Ch. 21 verses 1-4 of Leviticus, which forbids a kohein from “defiling” himself by burying his wife, or others. The exceptions to this rule in include family members who are related by flesh, women included (mothers and virgin sisters only). While including the Imahot may seem like a small gesture, I think it’s the thought behind it that gives it power. That is to say, even though we might be finding our own paths through the Torah and halacha, it might be our personal journeys and our journey as a minyan that gives us that profound feeling that comes with being Jewish. Consider Jewish history, it’s nothing if not a long, arduous, but profound journey.

While I think my D’var so far has been more of a personal reflection than anything, I would like to indulge in one more. Being abroad for an entire year (all the Jewish holidays), has really forced me to reflect on how I was going to be Jewish outside of my hometown, New York City, and my other community, Cornell. To be completely honest, I didn’t do any of the religious practices. I didn’t feel like paying exorbitant fees for tickets for High Holidays, seders, or the like. You can’t put a price on Judaism. Meaning worship should be free. Just saying.

But that doesn’t mean that I felt disconnected from “feeling” Jewish. Even though I didn’t go to temple, because I was often the only Jew in the room for the first time in my life, I held onto what being Jewish meant to me with more tenacity than ever before. In one of my classes this semester, there was another exchange student in my class who was also Jewish, who goes to Columbia. When we realized that the other was also Jewish, there was this moment of recognition in the other, like “It’s you!” But outside a few conversations with her, and two students from Cornell studying at different universities in Paris, it was really like being Jewish alone. Which was strange for me, because I identify Judaism with community.

Then, in the end of March, France had its worst anti-Semitic attack in thirty years. Exiting President Sarkozy raised the terror alert in France to its highest possible level. I participated in my first march: a silent walk from Place de la République to Bastille the night of the attacks on the school in Toulouse. At school the next few days, I sat in class or in the library trying to work on the verge of tears. In cruel irony, I had to give an exposé on anti-Semitism in Europe in the 19th and 20th centuries the day after the attacks. Even though I hadn’t fasted on Yom Kippur, or had gone to Friday night services in a long time, the feeling of belonging remained. I missed Kesher.

My ultimate conclusion is that Judaism is a challenge. It requires each person, each minyan, each community, each movement to figure out for himself, herself, or itself, what has meaning and why. But it’s a challenge that’s fulfilling. I’m pretty sure that if I hadn’t gone through the entire personal and communal questionings that I had as a member of Kesher, I would not have had the grounding I needed to hold onto my sense of Judaism while abroad. It’s super corny, I know, but I think we all have those moments when we go through a crucial moment of self-reflection, and so it stays with us always as a benchmark or guide.

Needless to say, I am really looking forward to coming back to Kesher. I can’t wait to meet all of you who have joined this year, and I wish I were there to say Mazel tov to those who are graduating or moving on. Félicitations, nonetheless. Thanks again to Mickey for helping me organizing this, and to all of you for hanging in there and listening. Have great summers! See you in August (or hopefully earlier or by Skype)!

I would then ask you all these questions: do you feel like Judaism is a challenge? How so? How do you reconcile halacha and Torah with your everyday practice?