A man travels to the Indian holy city of Benares, seeking holiness. When he gets there, he is overwhelmed by the sheer number of temples and shrines, and not at all certain which is the holiest among them. He approaches an incredibly old monk, telling him that he is seeking the holiest place in this holy city. The monk quickly points to a golden-domed temple in the distance and tells the visitor that is the spot. The monk explains that accessing the temple requires a variety of rituals and following many rules, all of which help to embody the holiness of the place and the values for which it stands. Failure to follow the rules down to the last detail means the visitor may not enter the sacred shrine.
The man is a bit surprised, and even a little put off, especially since he never really equated holiness with so many rules. So, as many often do when we receive an answer we don’t totally love, he asked another monk to point him toward the holiest site in Benares, in case asking a different monk would bring him a different answer. The monk placed one hand on the seeker’s shoulder and pointed toward his chest. “That is the holiest site in Benares.” The man was thrilled, and he left Benares, never visiting the temple toward which the first monk had directed him.
This week’s Torah reading suggests that as sweet as that story may be, and as much as many of us may appreciate its insight about where “true holiness” is found, the story paints a picture of a false dichotomy regarding holiness—one we are invited to shatter, to even greater insight and wisdom. This week’s parsha teaches: Were we to ask, “Is the sacred to be found in a rule-filled building or within each of us?” the answer would be, “Yes.”
Most of Parashat Emor is devoted to rules governing the priests who serve in the Tabernacle and, later, the Temple. The stated regulations cover the priests’ bodies and their families, and which sacrifices may be offered by them and by those wishing to worship at the Temple. For many people, the long list of rules is numbing, or even the opposite of sacred. Some might even go so far as to say that it all sounds rather pagan. I would not, but I appreciate that response, all the same.
In fact, I think that there are times when all of that structure and regulation is essential to finding and nurturing the sacred. Whether the rules governing a certain holy place or the rules that we agree to observe in all sorts of settings, those rules can seem totally arcane, and even upsetting, to outsiders, but they are critically important to those “playing the game.” Part of the power of ritual—be it religious ritual, family ritual, athletic ritual, or any of the other parts of our lives that have their own rituals—is its rigor. And even when some of the details are annoying, we all know that there is a certain kind of liberation found in giving ourselves over to them. That is the wisdom of the first monk in our story, and the insight of most of this week’s Torah reading.
But, it is not the only wisdom.
The first wisdom invites and even demands a balancing wisdom—a counter-wisdom, if you will. That wisdom is the one of the second monk: that the sacred is within us, and its presence in the world depends entirely upon our knowing that and declaring it.
Not once, but twice—in Leviticus 23:2 and again in 23:4—in the middle of all these externalized regulations, the Torah declares in reference to the holidays, “These are the holidays of God, which you [the people] are to declare at their time; these as you declare them are my holy times.” And if the meaning is in doubt, the Sages clarify it a thousand years later in the Mishna by explaining, “I [God] have these holy times—these and no others.” In other words, the sacred is to be found where we say and when we say, because we have that within us. That is the insight of the seeker’s encounter with the second monk. Parashat Emor suggests that the two insights are inextricably linked and interdependent.
Ultimately, we are all looking for some experience of whatever we mean by sacred. This week, we can celebrate that even as there are many places that are sacred and many definitions of what sacredness is, we can all benefit from both these tools in finding the sacredness we seek: looking outward and looking inward, knowing that the answer is yes, to both of them.
Listed for many years in Newsweek as one of America’s “50 Most Influential Rabbis” and recognized as one of our nation’s leading “Preachers and Teachers,” by Beliefnet.com, Rabbi Brad Hirschfield serves as the President of Clal–The National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership, a training institute, think tank, and resource center nurturing religious and intellectual pluralism within the Jewish community, and the wider world, preparing people to meet the biggest challenges we face in our increasingly polarized world.
An ordained Orthodox rabbi who studied for his PhD and taught at The Jewish Theological Seminary, he has also taught the University of Pennsylvania, where he directs an ongoing seminar, and American Jewish University. Rabbi Brad regularly teaches and consults for the US Army and United States Department of Defense, religious organizations — Jewish and Christian — including United Seminary (Methodist), Yeshivat Chovevei Torah (Modern Orthodox) Luther Seminary (Lutheran), and The Jewish Theological Seminary (Conservative) — civic organizations including No Labels, Odyssey Impact, and The Aspen Institute, numerous Jewish Federations, and a variety of communal and family foundations.
Hirschfield is the author and editor of numerous books, including You Don’t Have To Be Wrong For Me To Be Right: Finding Faith Without Fanaticism, writes a column for Religion News Service, and appears regularly on TV and radio in outlets ranging from The Washington Post to Fox News Channel. He is also the founder of the Stand and See Fellowship, which brings hundreds of Christian religious leaders to Israel, preparing them to address the increasing polarization around Middle East issues — and really all currently polarizing issues at home and abroad — with six words, “It’s more complicated than we know.”