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PDF for Printing - 2 pages Parshat Emor and the Haftarah of Emor both discuss the commandments and restrictions that apply to Cohanim, the hereditary priesthood of the Jewish People. The Haftarah of Emor describes in detail the role that…

Parshat Emor and the Haftarah of Emor both discuss the commandments and restrictions that apply to Cohanim, the hereditary priesthood of the Jewish People. The Haftarah of Emor describes in detail the role that the Cohanim will have at the time of the Final Redemption. It reviews their service in the Temple and the additional restrictions that the Torah places on them both during their service and in their personal life. It describes their responsibilities to the Jewish People outside the Temple, such as teaching Torah and adjudicating Halachic issues, and it lists some of the responsibilities of the Jewish People to them, such as the gifts of Challah (first bread) and Bikurim (first fruit).

According to Parshat Emor, the additional commandments are what imparts upon the Cohanim the additional level of sanctity required for service in the Mikdash (Sanctuary). Among the verses that are addressed to them, we find the following commandment addressed to the Jewish People as a whole:

As we have learned in previous Parshot, such as Kedoshim, what makes someone sacred is that they act differently than the people around them. The Jewish People have a very long list of commandments; consequently, there is an expectation that the Jewish People will have a higher level of sanctity relative to other nations. Likewise, G-d gave the Cohanim additional commandments to differentiate them from the rest of Israel, with an even higher level of sanctity. But if it is G-d who makes them sacred, as per the end of the verse, what does it mean when the very same verse says, “you will make them sacred”? In what way are we, the Jewish People, able to make the Cohanim sacred?

Rashi, distilling several Midrashim into a handful of words, explains:

One might think that if a Cohen married a divorcee, which is explicitly forbidden in the Torah, then he made a personal choice, and while he may have done something wrong, it does not affect Jewish society as a whole. However, the Torah says: “You must make him sacred”: the responsibility to observe the laws that are unique to Cohanim is theirs, but the responsibility to enforce them is ours.

The verse continues and says: “he shall be sacred to you”. That, too, is not a mere platitude, but is expressed through action. Rashi explains:

Our responsibility to keep the Cohanim sacred is expressed through the preferred treatment that we show them. Therefore, the Cohen gets the first Aliya to the Torah, and he is the first to be asked to lead Birkat HaMazon after meals. This is not much to ask; we are not obligated to defer to them in politics or business or even Torah. But this little bit is enough to embed their special status in the culture and consciousness of the Jewish People.

One might have thought that once the Temple was destroyed and the primary role of the Cohanim, to bring the offerings to Hashem, was no longer a part of Jewish life, that the sanctity of the Cohanim would disappear as well. But this has not been the case. More than three thousand years after this commandment was given, the Cohanim are still distinct among the Jewish People. This remarkable persistence is due to the sanctity of the additional commandments that the Cohanim were given, and due to the deference that the Jewish People have continued to show them. As commanded, we have made them sacred.

Ultimately, we will reach the stage of redemption described in the Haftarah, where we once again have a Temple, and need Cohanim to serve there:

At that time, there will still be Cohanim, distinct and sacred among the Jewish People.

In memory of my father, Peter Rozenberg, z”l

לעילוי נשמת אבי מורי פנחס בן נתן נטע ז”ל

#yehezkel #Israel #Emor #Shabbat #Haftarah

Dez mil noites passadas.

de repente quando se fez noite como em todo fim de dia faz, para que os olhos dos homens bons se assemelhem aos dos homens maus, e a escória mendicante se leiloem ao domínio de satanás em troca de vida farta e bocetas pros seus paus. fazia-se junto a noite e da penumbra que dela provinha, os desejos carnais que em mim ascendiam, trepavam em meu raciocínio e ensurdeciam a razão. das vontades nasceram as ruas, os transeuntes e os bares da minha cidade, é na vontade que tudo nasce, construir exige querência, a destruição sim, é involuntária e silenciosa, se faz sozinha e quando dar-se conta o que nasceu em vontade já tonou-se inexistente. eu caminhava em passos curtos e retos como sempre faço, passava por becos escuros com a certeza de ser invisível, e por querer, era. os passos detrás pela culpa de terem sido por pura ganância da minha alma de querer que fossem, redimiam-se prostrados a querubins e desfaziam-se em penitência aos meus pecados, olhando o caminho que já havia sido passado, nada se via, não era por causa do escuro da noite, e sim pela ausência de ser, tudo é enquanto é, depois de ser deixa de estar e passa a passado quando menos se espera. eu ainda era porque nascia prematuro em cada pisar novo, e ia morrendo, deixando partes minhas soltas em cada canto do mundo. ia em destino aos amores que viriam, às pessoas que seriam avistadas, habitantes de seus próprios atalhos, que se por sorte não fossem desfeitos pelo tempo, se cruzariam com os meus, tornando-os férteis de novos destinos. o homem veio retilíneo, seguia-me de frente, propositado a atravessar-me sexos e vidas, chalaceava em sorriso os trejeitos que eu tinha. dedilhar o vento, estalar os dedos três vezes por minuto, esquecia que já o tinha feito. eu descia o olhar, descia tão baixo a ponto de fecha-los sem propósito, ocultar a mim mesmo minha própria visão parecia-me melhor que encará-lo. a esperança de o ter durante o eterno, diminuía junto a distância que acrescia no tempo que tudo validava. próximos e estáticos burlava-se o tempo, confundíamos deuses e demônios, que espectadores invejosos dos prazeres humanos, perdiam a hora em seus onanismos precoces cheios de gozo. éramos amantes divinos, pornô onipotente de nossos senhores, fodidos e mal pagos, satisfeitos somente pelo fato de sermos. e na ânsia de sermos mais, íamos da estatização à correria num ímpeto, idealistas e pensantes, crentes fiéis das mentiras absolutas, confiantes que de mais perto, compartilhando corpo e alma, em cópula infindável de júbilo perene, seríamos eternos. e na ganância de sermos mais, caminhou-se escrupulosamente, e no rumo que nos traria, nos perdemos. andou-se demais, passamos de nós. olhando pra trás nada se via, e não era por causa do escuro da noite. apodrecemos em inexistência, já era dia amanhecido.

#minimalista #escritores fakes #yehezkel