For Amos Klaiman, our most recent Bar Mitzvah, holiness is listening and playing music. Watching him and his sister Lillie play piano prior to services last Saturday I could see why. To the few of us present in our sanctuary, the moment was magical.
Holiness for our Biblical ancestors was a lot more rigid and a lot less fun. As described in this week’s Torah portion, Kedoshim, holiness is a series of rules and regulations. Familiar rules like “love your neighbor as yourself” and “don’t put a stumbling block in front of the blind,” and obscure ones like not eating a three-day-old sacrifice. Still, when we are commanded to “be holy, because God is holy,” it feels more like a threat than an aspiration.
In truth, holiness is both a celebration of life, and a duty we share with one another. To play piano like Amos and Lillie requires hours and hours of work and dedication. They must feel both the joy and the love of the task. When those two qualities come together, we, human beings, realize our full potential.
Mostly, we feel holiness when it is absent. When human beings hurt one another, as we see in Ukraine, all our hearts are heavy with pain. As Martin Buber once wrote, “when senseless hatred reigns on earth and people hide their faces from one another, then heaven is forced to hide its face. But, when love comes to rule the earth and people reveal their faces to one another, then the splendor of God will be revealed.”
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alex