This past week we commemorated Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance day, and a beautiful story appeared in the New York Times about a Torah that had been hidden during the Holocaust that had been restored and rededicated in a synagogue in New York. Many Torahs that were lost, hidden, or stolen have been restored and returned to their proper place in Jewish communities, but there was something particularly interesting about this Torah. A rabbi who runs a foundation called Save a Torah had heard from Auschwitz survivors that just days before the Germans arrived, a Torah had been buried in their town in Poland that soon was renamed Auschwitz. After years of searching, the rabbi miraculously was able to find the Torah, buried in a metal box in a cemetery in the town - but four panels were missing.
Why would the Jews have saved a Torah from destruction but removed four sections? The rabbi placed an ad in the Polish newspapers, asking if anyone had parchment with Hebrew letters and offered a nice reward. A priest called the next day, saying he knew exactly what the rabbi was looking for and that he had the four sections of the Torah. Not only that, but the priest had been born Jewish and was himself an Auschwitz survivor. The four panels had been carefully chosen and brought into Auschwitz, they were folded and hidden, but just before the Jews who had them were put to death, they gave them to the priest for safekeeping, who held on to them for the next 60 years.
What was on those four particular panels? The article mentioned that one of them was the 10 Commandments, but I want us to think about this: if you could only take four pages of the Torah with you, what would you choose? And why?
I did some research and was not able to find out what the content of the other panels were, but I want to talk about why I would choose today’s reading as one. Kedoshim is the centerpiece of the Torah. It contains what Rabbi Akiva called klal gadol baTorah, the great principle of the Torah, and contains the essence of what I would go so far as to say is the entire purpose of our lives.
Kedoshim Tihiyu, Ki Kadosh Ani Adonai Eloheychim. Be Holy, for I, Adonai your God am Holy. What does this mean?
Sarah (the bat mitzvah girl) says: Being holy means being a good person and following God’s image and laws.
I want to look at this more closely. Throughout the parasha, the Torah says, “Ani Adonai” I am God, or “Ani Adonai Eloheychem,” I am Adonai your God. Over and over:
Revere your mother and father, keep Shabbat, I am God.
Leave food from your harvest for the poor, I am God.
Don’t put a stumbling block before the blind, I am God.
Show respect to the elderly, I am God.
Love your neighbor as yourself, I am God.
Love the stranger as yourself because you were strangers in the land of Egypt, I am God.
You get the idea. About 15 times in this one chapter, this is repeated. Why? It’s got to be more than just God trying to show us who’s in charge: “Do this because I’m God and I said so.” I think it’s much deeper than that. God is saying that “Ani Adonai” depends on us being holy in these ways. When we act with holiness: caring for the vulnerable, treating others with respect and honesty, not hating, insulting or deceiving people, we make God present in the world. If we are holy, then “Ani Adonai” is real.
Do you remember how the Blues Brothers used to say “We’re on a mission from God”? They probably didn’t know that they were teaching deep Torah. Kedoshim is saying that we are all on a mission from God. Our actions bring God’s holiness into our world. When we love our neighbor, God is present. When we visit the sick, God is present. When we comfort the mourner, feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, God is present.
Let me illustrate with a story:
There was a man who feel asleep in synagogue. He started dozing off during the Torah reading. It happened to be next week’s parasha where God commands the Israelites to bake 12 loaves of bread and display them in the sanctuary as an offering to God. Half listening and half dreaming, the man woke up thinking that God had sent him a message to offer12 challahs. Being a wealthy man, he went home, baked, and came back the next day with 12 challahs, which he placed in the ark.
He prayed before the ark, Master of the Universe! I’m not the most pious man, but I try to do what you ask of me. Please accept this offering from your humble servant. And he left. Later that day, a poor man came into the synagogue to pray. He stood before the ark crying, “Master of the Universe! I am a poor man and my family is hungry. Please listen to my prayer, the prayer of your humble servant.” The poor man stood there weeping, when suddenly, he caught a whiff of fresh baked challah coming from the ark. Oh! Thank You. Thank You, Master of the Universe! And he took the challahs and headed home to his family.
The next day, the rich man came back and prayed before the ark. Oh, Master of the Universe! You have received my offering. I am forever your grateful, humble servant! And he brought more challahs to place in the ark. Later, the poor man returned to the synagogue, “Master of the Universe, thank You! The challahs were delicious. I had enough to feed my family and to share with the other poor people in my neighborhood, but again my family is hungry. Oh, Master of Universe, please hear my prayer!” And again, he took the challahs from the ark, “Thank You, Master of the Universe, Thank You for answering my prayer!”
This went on for weeks and months - the rich man’s offering was received by God and the poor man’s prayer was answered by God. Until one day, the rich man and the poor man showed up at the same time. They looked at each other, they looked at the challahs, wait, uh, you, uh. . .? They realized that everything they believed was being shattered; the rich man’s offering wasn’t received by God, and the poor man’s prayer wasn’t answered by God, after all! But the rabbi, who had been observing the exchange of challahs all this time, spoke up. She said: “Yes, God is receiving your offering, and God is answering your prayer. See, ours are the hands of God! Continue to give and receive the challahs.” Ours are the hands of God.
That’s what it means to be holy: to be on a mission from God, to be the hands of God in the world, to understand that God needs us to make God’s presence manifest. This is the piece of Torah that I would bring with me, God forbid, to Auschwitz or to anywhere.
And it’s the Torah that our dear friend Ida Gelbart, who herself survived concentration camps, teaches at the end of her memoir. After living through hell as a teenager and losing her parents and much of her family, Ida writes in the Epilogue of her book Usurped:
“The question most frequently asked about the Holocaust is: ‘How can I and the rest of the Jewish people believe in God, after what has been done to us?’ [Her answer] Done by whom? It was done by people and not by God. God gave us this earth and created people in [God’s] own image. He gave us a mind with which to evolve and with which to work toward our betterment, to grow and to love one another. Like a father who has faith in his children’s integrity and ability, God gave us the tools we need to live. What did man do? He used this mind of his to invent matters of his own – like hatred, wars, killing, persecution, and a holocaust. We can’t blame God for our shortcomings. God waits for us to start behaving more like God’s children.”
Kedoshim Tihiyu. Be Holy, because God needs us to be holy.
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