Parshas Emor
Being born a kohen is a privilege. The kohanim are double agents. They are the agents of G-d in so far as they dispense His forgiveness to the people. And they are agents of the people in so far as they offer up the korbanot that procure that forgiveness. They are also accorded honor. They are given Terumah, they are the first to be given an aliyah and the first to be offered the blessing of Mezuman.
But along with these privileges there are also restrictions. Unlike the rest of the Jews who are permitted to express their emotions by being next to the dead before they are hidden away for good, the kohen must keep his distance, except when it comes to his close family, and the kohen gadol is not even allowed this concession. The kohanim cannot marry whom they like. They have no portion in the land of Israel (Devarim 18:1). The kohanim are crowned with royalty “for the crown of the anointing oil of G-d is upon the kohen gadol” (Vayikra 21:12). Like royalty, who cannot come and go as they please and cannot marry whom they like, the kohanim pay the price of the honor accorded to them with these restrictions. In using the word “emor” (21:1), which denotes a soft and persuasive tone of communication, as opposed to “daber” which denotes a commanding tone of communication, the Torah is comforting them for the restrictions by reminding them of the privileges that come with the position.
The reason for the prohibition against the kohen coming in contact with the dead is that it reminds one of one’s own finite existence (Kohelet 7:2). Contemplating one’s own death and the dread of having to account for one’s deeds and misdeeds when one arrives upstairs literally instills in one the fear of G-d.
But observance of G-d’s mitzvot out of fear is the lowest level of commitment and it weakens as the memory of death fades. The job of the kohen, who acted as a teacher (Mishlei 7:26), was to instill in the people enthusiasm for G-d and His Torah through the love of life rather than the fear of death. A kohen suffering from depression through contact with the dead was not the right person for that job.
“Speak to the priests the sons of Aharon” (21:1). We know that the priests are the descendants of Aharon, so why does the Torah point this out again here? It is to warn the kohanim not to let their position go to their heads. Be like Aharon who thought nothing of himself (Bamidbar 16:11) and had no interest in being appointed kohen gadol. He had to be talked into it by Moshe (Rashi, Vayikra 8:2). Don’t be like the sons of Eli who imagined they deserved the honor and then abused the privilege.
Why is Shabbat listed as the first mo’ed before the mo’adim of Pesach, Shavuos and Sukkos. which we usually associate with the word chagim (23:3)? The word mo’ed means an appointment (Shemos 25:22). Throughout the year we go about our business and do the mundane things that preoccupy all of us – even as we try, the best we can, to incorporate Hashem in our activities. But on Shabbat and the chagim we have an appointment with G-d. We clear our calendar for these meetings. The first appointment we have is once a week on Shabbat when we cease our creative work and thereby bear testimony to the fact that it is G-d who created the world and continues to do so each day: “He renews daily the work of creation.” We show up for that appointment weekly. We meet G-d each Shabbat through the special Shabbat prayers and we put aside hours of time that we don’t have during the week to study His Torah, which is the most direct way of Him meeting us.
But G-d didn’t just create the world and then retire. He didn’t put it on automatic pilot. Neither did He abandon us to the forces of astrology or to the luck of the stars (Rashi, Bereishis 15:5). He has direct input in our lives. And so on Pesach He intervened and took us out of bondage. On Shavuos he gave us a code of laws that regulate our daily lives. And on Sukkos He protected us from the forces of the elements. The mo’adim, then, celebrate both G-d’s creation of the world in the past (Shabbat) and His continued management of that enterprise in the present (chagim).
But the Exodus, the Revelation and the protection from the elements afforded by the sukkot all occurred in the wilderness, where it was clear that we could not rely on our own resources. We needed the open miracles of the ten plagues, the splitting of the sea, the well of Miriam and the Manna from heaven to exist.
How do we remember G-d after we settle down in our land and become self-supporting?
“When you come into the Land that I give you and you reap its harvest, you shall bring an Omer from your first harvest to the kohen” (23:10.) The operative words here are “that I give you.” We bring those words to life by offering up the first fruits of our success to G-d, like a sharecropper who delivers the produce of his labor to his boss.
Similarly, if you believe that after gathering in the harvest on Sukkot you have enough money in the bank to go it alone all the way to Pesach, understand that life is as temporary and shaky as the sukkot you are asked to dwell in. It is not as secure as the stone houses you leave behind (23:42). It is not the house that you built that protects you. That could go up in a puff of smoke any time, chas v’shalom. “Unless G-d builds the house, they who build it labor in vain. Unless G-d guards the city, the watchmen stay awake in vain” (Tehillim 127:1).