kedoshim

parasha kedoshim, leviticus chapters 19-20

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kedoshim

You shall be holy

You shall be Holy, because I, Adonai your God, am Holy.

This verse always strikes me as one of the heaviest in the entire Torah.

But what does it actually mean, to be Holy? The holier-than-thou crowd is out, as are those righteous folks who make it their business to let the rest of us know how sinful we are.

I think it’s obvious that there’s more to it than just being a “good person.” But even scrupulously keeping all the mitzvot doesn’t earn you the title. It’s more about what’s happening in your heart and mind. Are you being dutiful, obeying God because you want to do the right thing? That’s undoubtedly commendable.

But, Holiness is something beyond that, less about what you do and more about who you are.

When I think of a Holy person, specific religion aside, I think of someone who lives with one foot in each world and walks in both of them smoothly, concurrently. Grounded in this physical world, filled with the joy of being alive, and at the same time being ever conscious of the One-ness of God and their connection to that One-ness. It’s that connection that keeps the doorway open, that allows for a human being to be a conduit, making space for goodness to naturally flow through them, coming from the Divine and then broadcast out to manifest healing in the world. One can see it in their eyes, in their aura that extends beyond their physical self, casting blessing on everyone within their sphere just by being present. To meet someone like that is a rare thing. When we do, we’re left inspired, awed, and humbled. Such an encounter makes me long to climb to that spiritual level, to be as One with God as is possible while remaining human and alive.

But, why is it so rare, so difficult to be Holy? One would think that being Holy is our natural state! Are we not made in the image of God?

If God is Holy, then we are intrinsically Holy.

So, what keeps us from Holiness, and what does it take to attain that state of being?

There are 613 mitzvot in Torah, and if you were going to bind them together with a ribbon and put them in a box, these words, “Be Holy,” would be engraved on that box. Each mitzvah within it is an ingredient in the Be Holy recipe.

613 mitzvot seems a tall order. But not really.

Lots of them are easy. They’re the kind of things that any decent person living successfully in a society would do, even without being told to.

Lots of them are moot. They’re the kind of things that only pertain to the Temple and/or to living in the land of Israel.

Some of them are hard. The ones that are hard for you may not be the same ones that are hard for me.

But I’m wondering, what makes them so difficult for us?

Kedoshim also tells us not to put a stumbling block in front of the blind. Beyond the literal meaning, it’s about not setting someone up to fail. We should put that bottle of scotch away when a recovering alcoholic comes to call.

How we treat others comes as a result of the way we think about them, and that’s an extension of how we think about and subsequently treat ourselves. The challenging mitzvot, the ones that are a struggle for us to keep, those are the stumbling blocks that we put before ourselves and then blindly trip over, again and again.

We tell ourselves stories. Our stories comfort us and make us feel safe, and so we hide behind them. Kedoshim tells us not to lie, yet we lie to ourselves. When we tell ourselves truth, we have clarity, a cleared mind.

It takes some serious personal housecleaning, removing everything that works as a blockage to the Divine energy that naturally wants to flow through us. I imagine those things as stones that have fallen into a passageway, making it impossible to pass through without first removing them, one by one.

But if we keep reading we find that the answer to the question, “what does it mean to be Holy?” is given to us sixteen verses later.

You shall love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.

When Hillel the Elder was addressed by a gentile, saying “teach me the entire Torah while I stand on one leg, and I’ll convert, Rabbi Hillel replied, “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. This is the whole entire Torah; the rest is its explanation. Go and learn.”

In simple terms, we’re supposed to love ourselves, and then love our neighbor as much as we love ourselves—because it’s impossible to love someone else more than we love ourselves.

Love your neighbor.

Who is your neighbor?

It’s clarified in verse 34 of chapter 19.

The stranger who sojourns with you shall be as a native from among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. I am the Lord, your God.

So… everyone is your neighbor.

And we have the capacity to be empathetic because we know what it is to suffer.

If “Be Holy” is the inscription on the box that holds the mitzvot, the words printed on the ribbon that bind the mitzvot together are “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Because love—love of others, love of ourselves, love of God—is what ties them all together. It’s what binds the universe, keeps it cohesive, maintains the existence of existence.

So now we have a new question. What is love?

Is love a feeling in your heart? Kedoshim also tells us “You shall not hate your brother in your heart.” The feelings in your heart are the seed, but the seed is only a potential for love. Feeling love in your heart is wonderful! But beyond making you feel good, loving someone in your heart has no value. While that feeling is nice for you, it does nothing for the person you claim to love.

Love is a verb. An action word. Love is what you do.

 

So, to love completely, to be the embodiment of love, is the answer to the question, “what does it mean to be Holy?” In this physical world of conflict, struggle, and ego it’s no easy task. But beyond this physical world, beyond the veil that separates the worlds, Love is the only reality.

Is your connection with the Holy One so complete, is your love for the One Who Spoke and the world came into being so powerful that it consumes you with all your heart, all your soul, and all your might, allowing the mitzvot to flow through you because to do anything else would break your heart?

Most of us might not be there now—I know I’m not—but God promises that we will get there. We read, “You will love Adonai your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your might.”

This isn’t an order. It’s a prophesy. May it come to fruition speedily, in our days.

So what shall we eat?

In Beresheet, Adam and Eve are given all the fruits and vegetables that spring from the earth for their food. A vegetarian diet is the one that God originally imagined for us. A vegetarian diet is on a higher spiritual level than one that includes meat. That’s just the way it is.

And I say this, without apology, as someone who is not fully vegetarian.

When the human desire for meat became undeniable, God gave us permission to add it to our diets, but in a very controlled way. We are only permitted to use a small group of animals for food, and they must be prepared and eaten in a very particular way. For the ancient Israelites, an ordinary dinner consisted of lentils and vegetables—meat was reserved for festivals, for special times. Even in more recent times (relatively speaking), most Jews reserved meat for Shabbat and ate vegetarian meals for the rest of the week. Our sages believe that when the messianic era arrives, we will all shun even the thought of using animals for food. We will all be vegetarian.

Since a vegetarian diet is clearly Holier than one that includes meat, I’m going entirely vegetarian this Shabbat. There will be no meat vs. meatless option.

 Often in art, Holiness is depicted by a halo. Aura-readers say that this is an accurate depiction; Holy people have a glow of golden light around and above their heads.

 So let’s make a halo on our plates!

 

We’ll start with our usual Golden Shabbat Challah, but this time we’ll form it into a heart shape and begin our meal with love. It’s not hard to do. Use half the dough in the Golden Shabbat Challah recipe to make one long, 3 strand braid. After you transfer it to a baking sheet, bring the two ends together in a point. Then find the middle of the circle and make an indent to form a heart shape. Continue on with the instructions in the recipe—allow it to rise for a second time, brush it with your egg wash, and bake as usual. You can use the second half of the dough to make another heart or a standard 6 strand braid.

 

Sometimes the use of one ingredient becomes a springboard for an entire menu. Lentils du Puy are grown in the volcanic soil of the Puy region of France. They’re smaller than other green lentils and are more flavorful. One of the things that make them special is that, when cooked properly, they retain their shape rather than turning mushy like many other varieties, giving you tender little morsels that have some bite to them. My menu began with a recipe for Lentils du Puy that was inspired by one created by Thomas Keller. Keller uses a confit of garlic that takes the lentils to a heavenly level. That sounds like fun to me.

 

Confit of anything is prepared by taking said anything and cooking it submerged in oil. It may be a little extravagant, but I did my garlic cloves in walnut oil. It made them even more delicious, and I was left with a little jar of garlic infused walnut oil, a precious ingredient indeed.

 

Once I decided to use these lentils, the whole menu, as it unfolded in my brain, evolved into a very French vegetarian meal.

  

So here’s the plan. I’m going to make a spiced French vegetable stew—not spicy, just fragrant with spices and herbs—with enough different vegetables to keep every bite interesting. We’ll start our halo by piling a generous serving of this stew in the middle of our plates.

 

I’ll prepare the lentils as if for a pilaf and add the coarsely chopped cloves of garlic confit. The lentils will be spooned onto the plates, creating a ring around the vegetables, and then garnished with a drizzle each of balsamic vinegar and that garlic walnut oil we just made.

 

For a golden finish to our halos, we’ll complete our plates with a ring of golden rice around our lentils. To make the rice, melt a small knob of butter in a saucepan, add the rice and toss it for a minute or so to coat the grains with the butter, and add ¾ teaspoon salt per cup of rice. Then add your boiling water—2 cups water for each cup of rice— and add just a pinch of saffron to the cooking water. That will give it a heavenly flavor. And, add a bit of turmeric to deepen the color. Cover the pot and steam the rice over very low heat for 15-18 minutes. Allow it to stand, covered, for 5 minutes, then remove the cover and fluff with a fork. Put the cover back on, slightly askew, so that it stays warm without cooking further.

 

For our first course, I’m going to go with America’s favorite French dish—cheesy, melty, French Onion Soup. Although often made with beef stock, the original version of this soup was made with a rich onion broth that is then simmered with loads of caramelized onions and fresh thyme. So yes, it’s vegetarian, and yes, it’s kosher dairy.

 

And, for desert … It’s not unusual for the same dish to show up as authentic in more than one cuisine, differing only in name. I’m going to take advantage of making a fully vegetarian meal to make one of my favorite dairy desserts, Spanish Flan … or French Crème Caramel … topped with a dollop of freshly whipped cream.

Bon Appétit!