Summary of the combined portion of Acharei Mot – Kedoshim

Parashat Tzav contains all the instructions regarding the sacrificial cult, culminated by the installation of Aaron and his sons as priests in the Tabernacle.

Parashat Acharei Mot contains the atonement practices of Yom Kippur, including the fascinating ritual of the scapegoat and all the questions it raises about the idea of dedicating one animal to the Eternal One and a second to Azazel (whatever that may have signified!). The portion continues to explain many things about shechitah, the ritually permitted slaughter of animals. It warns about contact with idolaters and their practices. The logic of the texual flow is pretty obvious to this point: Yom Kippur, slaughtering of the scapegoat, slaughtering in general, avoidance of idolatrous practices (which were based on different sacrificial rites). We then start to read about forbidden sexual relations. To a modern mind, this is a complete digression. But the connection would have been obvious to ancient peoples. Sex formed part of the religious ritual in various fertility cults. Many of the things that were expressly forbidden to Jews were condoned or even encouraged among other local peoples. Our laws kept us separate, preserving our unique identity and tribal unity. After all, “separate” is another way of understanding the Hebrew term kedoshim, which begins the second portion. The word obviously has associations with the concepts of holiness or sanctity, but its primary meaning is “set aside,” usually for a special purpose.

The jewel of the portion, and arguably of the whole Torah, is the verse from the Holiness Code: Love your neighbour as yourself – I am the Eternal One.”

Commentary by Rabbi Janet Burden, Ealing Liberal Synagogue & West Central Liberal Synagogue

Why is it so hard for us to fulfil the seemingly simple commandment, “Love your neighbour as yourself”?

Rabbi Jonathan Wittenberg once put his finger on it for me by observing that in both the English and the Hebrew, the words, “Love your neighbour as yourself” can quite easily be misread as “Love your neighbour who is like yourself.” It is easy to care for someone we identify with, with whom we feel at ease. That’s natural enough. And there is nothing wrong with seeking out those with whom we feel kinship. In fact, we do this regularly, every time we attend a synagogue or a Jewish social event.

But to be holy, we have to do something that transcends the natural - to love the stranger, our neighbour who is not like us. We need to make a leap - not of faith, but of imagination. To imagine the humanity of “the other” and to accept what that humanity demands of us.

As a holy people, consecrated to God, we are called upon to be a channel for holiness into the world. We have to “live out” holiness in some way. I think that way is precisely to respond - personally, directly - to some of the unholiness that plagues our world.

For me, this week, it means looking again at what I can do to challenge the endless demonisation of asylum seekers in this country. One thing I know can make a difference is to write to my MP to express my concern about the general tone of the debate. But if that kind of lobbying isn’t your style, perhaps you will decide to send a cheque to Asylum Aid, or to the Refugee Council. Perhaps you will join J-Core, the main Jewish group in this country dealing with interracial relations.

It may not seem like much, but as it says in Pirkei Avot, Lo Alecha:

It is not up to you to complete the work, neither are you free to desist from it.

May the Eternal One make us the instruments of peace and holiness. Amen.

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