Parashat Behar
Leviticus 25:1–26:2

By Jen Smith, Guest Blogger

In Parashat Behar we are instructed to assist someone who is struggling. Rashi explains that this means we should help them before they hit rock bottom, as it would require much more effort to help them recover afterward. This seems straightforward, so why does Rashi feel the need to explain it? Rashi uses an analogy: if a load is slipping off a donkey’s back, one person can fix it while it’s slipping, but if it falls, it might take five people to lift it back up.

But why do we need an analogy to illustrate such a basic principle?

We read a while back in Terumah (Exodus 25:1-27:19) that we must assist someone struggling under their burdens, even if we dislike the person (and/or their burden). Rashi explains that the Torah emphasizes this caveat because it is human nature not to jump to assist a rival, and when we do, it might be to make the person beholden to us, rather than helping them regain independence without strings (like guilt, for example) attached. This may be one of the reasons the Torah commands us to help our rivals as much as we would help our friends; not just to ensure that those in need are able to get back on their feet, but so that we may perform the mitzvah of assisting regardless of our personal feelings.

Parashat Behar focuses on helping before someone falls. While part of me might want to wait until a person hits rock bottom before helping, making them completely dependent on me, this is the wrong approach. Rashi clarifies his position based on the phrases “u’moto yado imoch” (“and his hand falters or slips within your proximity”) and “v’hechezakto bo” (“you shall hold on to him”), that the Torah emphasizes assisting while the person is still slipping. At this stage, they might need support, but perhaps not total rehabilitation.

I find there is one last hurdle that I can’t seem to clear: If we rush to help our neighbor before they hit “rock bottom,” do we rob them of the opportunity to enjoy the confidence that comes from overcoming such a difficult challenge?  How do we know when someone really needs the help, rather than just giving up easily because they’re sure someone will come to the rescue?  Last night, I decided that I’d take Rashi up on his advice as it pertains to helping my daughter with math homework (does anything involving “helping with math homework” end well?)  When I thought the struggle was too much, or her tone was too desperate, I jumped in to help. Later when I was tucking her in for the night, my daughter said this: When you just rush in to help, it’s like you are saying you don’t believe that I can do it on my own. Just like that, the student became the teacher!

By providing the analogy of the slipping load, Rashi helps us understand the importance of timely assistance. Just as it is easier to adjust a slipping load before it falls, it is more effective and compassionate to help a person before they reach their lowest point. This approach not only alleviates immediate suffering but also preserves the individual’s dignity and independence. Our challenge is in our timing and in remembering that even if our personal “loads” may not be slipping now, our moment will most definitely come. May we all have the strength to assist others, and to accept help ourselves, as we move together toward the light.

Shabbat Shalom.

EMOR
Leviticus 21:1–24:23‎ 

 By Jen Smith, Guest Torah Blog Writer

In this week’s Torah portion, Emor, which means “Speak”, God imparts a profound instruction to the landowners: 

When you reap the harvest from your land, you shall not remove the corners of your field… For the poor… shall you leave them… (Lev. 23:23). 

God’s directive to the Jewish people transcends our human understanding of charity and underscores a much deeper principle. Rather than instructing the people to give a portion of their crops to the poor, God emphasizes leaving a portion accessible for those in need. This is a subtle distinction, yes, but this subtlety carries significant weight. 

Taking from others, especially when we find ourselves in times of need, can be terrifying, overwhelming, and often humiliating. God recognizes our inherent human desire for self-sufficiency and dignity, and while we may need help from time to time, the striving for and longing to maintain our independence remains ingrained within us. 

When God instructs landowners to leave crops available at the outskirts of their land, He is recognizing the emotional burden of the needy in asking for help. Accessing these provisions discreetly, maybe even under the cover of darkness, spares those in need the humiliating task of admitting their need for help and acknowledging their dependence on others for sustenance. 

But what about the city folk? What about those individuals without tangible goods to share? In today’s predominantly non-agrarian society, this lesson still resonates beyond literal fields. Perhaps the essence of this teaching lies in anonymous giving, meaning contributing without seeking recognition or gratitude. Afterall, giving anonymously rests at the top on Rambam’s Tzedakah Ladder, making it the epitome of altruism. Such a gesture affirms that the donor’s motives are purely good, devoid of any ulterior motives or the desire to boost one’s stature. 

The more one can give anonymously, the more profound the act becomes. It transcends personal gain, focusing solely on alleviating the suffering of others. This form of giving, motivated solely by the desire to emulate God’s generosity, strengthens our connection to the ultimate source of abundance. 

By adhering to this principle, not only do we spare the recipients from embarrassment, but we also deepen our awareness of the divine providence behind our possessions. In embracing this ethos, we position ourselves to continually receive and share in the divine blessings that flow through us as conduits of generosity, and this realization contains tremendous healing power! Reflecting on the things I’ve lost that have caused a sleepless night or two in my past, I considered what it might feel like to have all the resources and comforts suddenly taken away. I could manage, easy breezy! I’m not so high maintenance.  

And then I think about the summer of 2011 when our washing machine broke the night before my first day of work at my new job and my then 2-year-old son’s first day of JCC summer camp. I spent a week (that felt like a month) washing clothes covered in food and mud in the basement bathtub while singing a version of If I Were a Rich Man Girl from Fiddler. And then I remembered the stories my great grandmother told me as a little girl about coming to America through Ellis Island, clothing stained and crusty from taking care of her three little siblings on her long journey from Poland to freedom. I decided I would sing Tradition instead.  

Ultimately, these hiccups in life are just that: minor hurdles. Life is often painful and challenges us all with far greater losses; losses that leave us feeling the crushing pain of broken hearts and spirits, not to mention any physical pain we might endure. However, it’s essential to recognize that our possessions and every worldly resource don’t really belong to us. This realization isn’t meant to diminish your sense of ownership; rather, it highlights that everything belongs to something greater than us, including the entire cosmos. 

Embracing this truth brings freedom and peace. Ultimately, nothing is truly ours, yet everything is simultaneously within our grasp. And as I grow older, I am learning to trust that something new, something meant to be, awaits just around the corner. We are all part of a greater whole, and as such, we can partake in the abundance of this world with joy and gratitude. 

Kedoshim (Leviticus 19:1–20:27)

Guest Blogging By Jen Smith

Gossip: Preventing a Triple Homicide

In Parashat Kedoshim, we are called to embody holiness in every aspect of our lives. From acts of charity to fair business practices, from honoring our parents to treating strangers with compassion, the Torah outlines a blueprint for creating a society founded on righteousness and justice.

Central to this vision is the prohibition against gossip and slander. Do not go about spreading slander among your people. Do not do anything that endangers your neighbor’s life. I am the Lord. (Lev. 19:16)

Why does the Torah emphasize the prohibition against gossip in a portion dedicated to holiness? The answer lies in understanding the profound impact of our words on ourselves and others. Just as holiness permeates every aspect of our being, so too must it infuse our speech. Gossip, or lashon hara, not only damages relationships and reputations but also corrodes the very fabric of community and trust. It thrives on speculation, innuendo, and half-truths, poisoning hearts and minds with negativity and suspicion.

But gossip does more than just harm others—it diminishes our own holiness. The Talmud teaches us that one who speaks gossip is considered as if they deny the existence of God. By engaging in gossip, we betray our own divine potential and distance ourselves from the sacred.

Our sages teach that Lashon Hara, or gossip and negative speech, kills three people: the person speaking, the person about whom you are speaking, and the person listening.

The Person Speaking:

The speaker dies first as the speaker is perceived to be condemned by God. Within the context of Kedoshim, the presupposition that we are made in the image of God is the proverbial nail in the coffin. When we speak badly about another human being, it is to ignore – or worse, to condemn – God’s divine spark in another human being. Earlier in Exodus, the name God provides to Moses is I am that I am, or I will be what I will be. Love, kindness, and the potential for healed world if we only realize that God is one. If God is one, and we are made in God’s image, then to slander another is akin to spiritual suicide, using God’s gift of speech to stir unrest, belittle others, or share private confidences with others. That is true weather the words are Let there be light, or Let Moses speak, or even Off with her head. What are we creating in the last example? Darkness

If it isn’t enough to disappoint ourselves, often the listener also perceives the speaker to be flighty and careless at best, manipulative and mean spirited at worst. Habitual gossipers lose trust and respect as others recognize their tendency to speak badly of others, rendering them less likely to be called on for sincere counsel or intimate confidences.

The Person Being Spoken About:

The person being talked about is the first one to die, even if they are the last to know.  This person goes about their daily business, blissfully (or if not blissful, still alive) unaware of how your words are shaping their reputation, whether your words are true or not.

A reputation built over a lifetime can vanish in an instant. A person’s good name, reflecting qualities like honesty and kindness, is essential to their well-being. Unlike money, which can be replaced even at a high cost, a damaged reputation can be incredibly hard to repair. The idea of “losing face” in Japanese culture perfectly captures the profound impact of a damaged reputation, as if the person’s very identity is stripped away.

Our sages believed the very same thing. In Pirkei Avot 2:10 (Ethics of our Fathers), we read that Rabbi Eliezer said: Let the honor of your friend be as dear to you as your own; And be not easily provoked to anger.

If we believe that we are made in God’s image – B’tzelem Elohim – then we are all connected to God.

Recently, I was snuggled in front of a fire with my kids for an epic Harry Potter screening on a rainy afternoon. The premise of this chapter in the Hogwarts saga was built upon Horcruxes, which are described as regular objects (a ring, a book) and other living beings (a human being as well as a serpent) that Lord Voldemort (bad guy) used to store numerous fragments of his soul. The evil logic: If you kill one part of me, 99 parts are still alive! It is a life, but it is broken. Shattered into tiny glass pieces that can never be seamlessly restored. It is not a life that can be shared and used to support and uplift others.

The Person Listening:

The Talmud offers profound insights into the dynamics of our interactions, shedding light on the significant impact of our roles, even in seemingly passive situations like listening. It reminds us that while gossiping is widely recognized as harmful, the act of listening carries its own weight of responsibility, surpassing even the speaker in the harm it can cause.

Deep within us, we hold a sense of the inherent wrongness of gossiping about others; and we feel our transgressions, even if we won’t admit them. The Talmud’s wisdom invites us to consider the position of listener more closely. Passivity is not the same as Immunity, and sometimes it is when we are in a passive state that we can demonstrate true accountability. Unlike the speaker, who has already chosen their unholy words, the listener holds the power to stop the spread of malicious speech. This is why divine judgment rests upon them equally.

Let’s also consider the broader application of these principles. They extend beyond individuals and encompass organizations, communities, and even ourselves. In fact, even self-deprecation has the potential to be a violation of our sacred principles. By embracing our worth and potential, we honor the divine within us and contribute positively to the world around us.

This Shabbat, may we all celebrate our inherent holiness by following the light provided by our own Divine spark. Let’s spread light and love and use our words to inspire and uplift ourselves and others. Shabbat Shalom.