Emor 2013 A response to the tragedies in Boston and West, TX: The fine line between sanctity and desecration, blessing and curse

Emor 2013 – The fine line between sanctity and desecration, blessing and curse
Rabbi Rachel Goldenberg

“livracha v’lo liklalah, l’sova, v’lo l’razon, l’chayyim v’lo l’mavet…
for blessing, and not for curse; for sustenance, and not for destruction;
for life, and not for death.”

My family and I were in Boston to see the Marathon two weeks ago. We were in Newton, with my cousins, many miles from the finish line, and we only went for a couple of hours in the late morning. We brought a picnic and sat in the sun on the green grass, and it was beautiful. I found myself moved by the grace and the strength of the bodies of these runners. What an amazing thing to be right there, watching the best male and female marathon runners in the world glide by as if 26 miles was nothing to them. And then to see the packs of more “normal” people, but serious runners nonetheless, displaying enormous endurance, resilience and strength.

And then there were the costumes! Apparently runners who are raising money for charity will sometimes garner support by pledging to wear something outrageous if they raise a certain amount of money. So there were men and women (but mostly men) running in tutus, swan outfits, fairy wings, and superhero capes. We even spotted a hot dog costume! It was such a joyous celebration of life and vitality, of the capacity and the beauty of the human body.

We went back to my cousin’s house, energized and inspired what we had witnessed. And then, several hours later, came the news of the bombings at the finish line. In that moment we saw so clearly how the human experience is one of standing on that terribly thin line between celebrating life and experiencing death and destruction.

Our Torah portion this week stands on that same that same line.

This week we read instructions regarding the sacred offerings the people bring to God through the priests at the Tabernacle. The people are instructed to be extra careful when they bring an offering to sacrifice to God that they may not make an offering of an animal that has a blemish, is flawed or has been maimed. To do so would be an act of desecration – not of holiness.
Upon first hearing this law, we might find it problematic in its suggestion that God only accepts perfection. But that isn’t my sermon tonight.

This week I read this text differently. The message this week, I think, is to recognize that there is such a thing as a flawed and unacceptable offering to God. In those terrible bombings at the marathon, we saw how an offering or an action can be easily twisted from serving God and serving life to serving the opposite – serving death. These two young men, and unfortunately, many religious extremists across the globe, have been led to believe that killing innocent people and terrorizing entire communities and nations is a holy act – an offering to God.

What then, as a religious leader, can I say about what it means to be a person who participates in religious acts, a person who strives to live a spiritual or a religious life? To be a religious person is to participate in the sacred – it means striving to align our actions with what we believe serves God and serves a greater purpose. And it also means that we walk a thin line. Our Torah portion highlights how easily service to God can be distorted into service of something that is not holy.

The Torah instructs the priests to be scrupulous in making sure that everything offered on the altar is without blemish or defect – that it is offered with the correct intention – to serve God and life.

Then, later in the Torah portion, we read a story about a fight between two men in which one man commits blasphemy by pronouncing God’s ineffable name out loud as a curse. The blasphemer is ultimately stoned to death as punishment. God has revealed God’s very self to the people of Israel by making known God’s very intimate, personal name, YHVH. But there are boundaries around how we may use this name. If the name is not used intentionally, as a way to draw close to God and serve God, then the name loses its sanctity and God is diminished and distorted.

As I studied the parasha this week I was surprised by this notion – that God needs US to be careful about how we use God’s name and how we approach God. In a sense, just as God has made us fragile beings who walk a thin line between life and death, so too, God has made God’s self vulnerable by giving us ways to come close, and by revealing God’s name. Because a spiritual connection to something beyond us is available to us, that connection is inherently exposed to distortion and misuse, sometimes with tragic results.

“livracha v’lo liklalah, l’sova, v’lo l’razon, l’chayyim v’lo l’mavet…
for blessing, and not for curse

As people on a journey towards a spiritual life, this parasha calls us to ask ourselves – Have I dedicated myself and my actions to something beyond myself? Are my offerings to the world and to others offerings of life and of beauty – offerings with a greater purpose?

Of course, we know, and we have seen so clearly these past couple of weeks, that even if we do dedicate ourselves to life and to beauty and purpose, we are still vulnerable to destruction. Therefore, we are so much the more so required to celebrate the life we’ve got. In fact, in our Torah portion alongside all of this worry about the sacrifices, and the stoning to death of a blasphemer, we also have the commandments to celebrate the festivals of Sukkot, Pesach and Shavuot – these holidays which are meant to be seasons of outpouring of joy. And so, given this fine line we walk, we celebrate and give thanks as much as we possibly can, as we walk.

Two days later after the bombings at the Boston marathon, we learned of the explosion in the fertilizer plant in the town of West, Texas.

It’s not like I’ve spent a lot of time there. But any Reform rabbi who has worked in Dallas, Texas knows the town of West, because it is the only decent rest stop between Dallas and Greene Family Camp, the Reform Movement summer camp in Bruceville, TX. When I lived in Dallas, I stopped in West several times a year, on my way to and from camp or a retreat. We would stop at the Czech Stop to get warm kolaches – these delicious Czech pastries filled with jelly and sweet cheese.

Boston. . . West, TX . . . Two very different tragedies. One perpetrated by people whose intent was to kill. The other, a terrible accident, the cause of which remains to be seen. But both, experiences of terrible pain and loss and grief – both, reminders to give thanks and celebrate life in the moment, because that is all we’ve got.

That day of the plant explosion, my Texas colleagues and I traded warm kolache memories on facebook, trying to hold on to the good stuff. And when I think back on that day in Boston, I try to hold on to the memories of joy, strength, endurance, the grace of those amazing runners, the tutus.

“livracha v’lo liklalah, l’sova, v’lo l’razon, l’chayyim v’lo l’mavet…

We pray these words every year as we make the transition from the winter rainy season to the summer dry season in the Land of Israel. We recognize that our very existence is dependent on that which is out of our control – how much or how little rain falls during the year to sustain us. And so we pray, given the fragility of life, that our efforts, our work, our time on earth should be for blessing and not for curse; for sustenance, and not for destruction; for life, and not for death.