Parshat Emor
by Rabbi Avi Billet
According to Rambam (Maimonides) in his Sefer Hamitzvot (book of Commandments), there are two mitzvot to be gleaned from the verse: “Do not desecrate My holy name. I must be sanctified among the Israelites. I am God [and] I am making you holy.” (Vayikra 22:32 )
The first is a negative commandment not to do anything to give God or His Torah a bad name (Negative Commandments #63), and the second is the mitzvah of Kiddush Hashem, to enhance the reputation of God and His Torah (Positive Commandment #9).
In his depiction of the positive commandment, Rambam brings examples from history that the ideal way to sanctify God’s name is to be willing and ready to die for the sake of His Name. Utilizing a lesson taught by the prophet Isaiah, Rambam writes, while referring to a period when enemies have dominance over the Jewish people and are murdering men, women and children that “[even] children should not fear death and should give up their lives, and publicize and strengthen their faith, and sanctify The Name before the masses.” I'll add that to get to such a level requires a very high level of education and connection to our faith that must be modeled for our children and lived by example day in and day out. Perhaps what we might call "living al Kiddush Hashem."
The commandment to avoid desecrating God’s name is what Rambam calls “the opposite of sanctifying God’s Name.” And it carries three possible forms of violation. First, that whoever is put into a position, under duress of an enemy nation, to violate any mitzvah in the Torah, or in times of peace to violate either the laws of murder, immorality and idolatry, must not succumb to the pressure to violate the law (this is the reverse of Positive Command #9).
This kind of violation (meaning if one does the sin anyway), however, is the most lenient, as it involves coercion or force. The person is not sinning out of desire to sin, but out of desire to stay alive.
The second kind of violation also does not come from desire to do the sin or the forbidden act. Rather it is an act of rebelliousness and the removal of the Heavenly yoke of responsibility. It’s not the sin itself which is the intent, but the motivation for the sin, such as perhaps to “spite God,” is a key factor.
The third type of violation is on a personal level, when an individual who has a stellar reputation does even a single act which is viewed by the masses as an “Aveirah” (sin), as an act which is not worthy of being respected. Even if the act turns out to be permissible, God’s Name could still be disgraced through the deed in question. An example cited by the Talmud is of a rabbi who takes a nice piece of meat from the butcher, but does not pay for it right away (this would not apply in a credit-card society). Another example: Cutting a line might not be illegal or a Torah prohibition, but it could very well be a chillul Hashem.
While we can all write essays about those that fall into the third category, it is the second category that is becoming more and more apparent in our “I have a blog world,” where every week (if not every day) another person comes out with an essay or a book on “why I left Orthodoxy.” Inevitably the person will write about certain things s/he loves about Orthodox Judaism, but how “I still can’t get over the contradictions.” The loudest ones are often ex-Hassidim who could not find another option under the tent of Orthodoxy (maybe they were always told that Modern Orthodoxy is not Jewish).
Most humorously, a person will make a claim such as “I went through 12 years of day school education, so I know all I need to know.” Or “For a long time I enjoyed the davening in our shul because it’s spiritual. But now it’s empty to me.”
With all respect to our yeshiva and day school system, products of it do not “know everything they need to know.” And davening in shul is not meant to be “spiritual because there is singing.”
We can all name Torah giants who passed away in the last few years. Rabbis Yosef S. Elyashiv, Ovadia Yosef, and more recently Shmuel Wozner and Aharon Lichtenstein. These leaders knew all there is to know, and they never stopped learning.
Prayer is not supposed to be spiritual because there is singing. It is the individual’s responsibility to tap into the words one is saying, have them enter the heart, and impact one’s soul.
More importantly, as Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein was famous for saying, it is OK to live with questions. We don’t have all the answers, and maybe we never will have all the answers. But just because a couple of things bother someone does not mean it is OK to air your personal dirty laundry on the Huffington Post.
“My story must be heard!” Actually, it need not be heard. Your story and your personal “crisis of faith” (which is not really a crisis, but is just your own baggage) is only a chillul Hashem, a desecration of God’s name.
Let us all become more knowledgable and more in touch with our faith so we can always be a source of Kiddush Hashem, of sanctifying God’s Holy Name. And then, we will happily read your tale of triumph over adversity in the Huffington Post.
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