“Daber el kol adas Bnei Yisrael v’amarta aleihem: K’doshim tee’yu ki Kadosh Ani Hashem Elokeichem w Speak to the entire assembly of the Children of Israel and say to them : You shall be holy, for I, Hashem you G-d, am holy."  Leviticus 19:2

This week’s parshah is entitled ‘Kedoshim’ i.e. ‘Holy’ (in the plural form, since the command is to all of Bnei Yisrael that you pl. should be ‘holy’). A thinking person must then wonder: What does it mean to be ‘holy’? Rav Yaakov Weinberg zt”l (Rosh Yeshiva of Ner Israel, whose influence both there and beyond was of great significance over many years, until this day) would always say that one must try to understand the p’shat – the ‘simple, straightforward’ meaning of what the Torah is trying to say to us.

So, what do we have here, on the p’shat level? G-d is telling us that He is holy; and He is also telling us that we, as His chosen people, also have an obligation to be holy. Well, you don’t even have to be ‘religious’ to have an understanding that G-d (by definition) is elevated; He is the epitome of spirituality; and He is above and beyond (separated from) the dimensional limitations of our physical world. The pasuk (verse) is telling us that somehow, we are to emulate these G-dly characteristics. How?

We also know different variations of the word ‘kodesh’ are embedded in a so many aspects of Jewish life: We make kiddush in order to sanctify and inaugurate both the ‘holy’ Sabbath as well as all of our holidays (in Hebrew, known as mikra’ei kodesh (holy convocations). And not just on these special days, but as an ongoing imperative, we are enjoined to always strive to make a kiddush Hashem – a sanctification of G-d’s Name (the opposite being a chillul Hashem, as desecration of G-d’s Name) – in all of our daily, even mundane, endeavors. In order to sanctify and remember the names and memories of those who have lived and passed on from this world, we say the kaddish prayer. And within the holy Shmoneh Esrei (the highest ‘level’ of prayer within the framework of our daily services), we insert and recite kedusha, requesting that we might “sanctify your Name in this world, just as (the angels) sanctify it in the upper celestial chambers”. The great Temple in Jerusalem was called the Bais HaMikdash (the Holy House), and every newly married couple is enjoined to strive to make their home into a mikdash m’at (a miniature sanctuary). The most righteous amongst our people are not only known as tzaddikim, but also as kedoshim. And, if a Jewish person dies in defense of their Jewish beliefs, then they have died al kiddush Hashem – in sanctification of G-d’s Name. For those who have died this way, we are told their souls occupy an elevated position in gan eden.

Clearly, being ‘kodesh’ is not a small matter. But how to accomplish this lofty goal, the primary commandment presented at the outset of this week’s parshah? It seems that the first order of business in attempting to become ‘holy’ is to identify what holiness is. Without a more sophisticated understanding of this concept, we may continuously search for it; without the proper map, we may never find it.

There is a well-known anecdote told concerning a young wandering Jew who found a temporary landing at Aish Hatorah in Jerusalem. Rav Noach Weinberg zt”l (brother to Rav Yaakov and founder of Aish, amongst many other achievements) had several conversations with this young man, emphasizing that Israel was filled with kedusha (holiness), which made the Land and its people special and elevated. After a short stay, the nascent student decided he’d had enough ‘learning’ and embarked on a camping trip throughout the country. Afterwards, he returned to the Holy City and met once again with Rav Noach. He said to him, “You know, I traveled up and down the length of this country, but I never saw any evidence of this kedushah you were always talking about.” “You didn’t?” the Rav replied, looking surprised and stroking his beard. “But,” he continued with inquiring eyes, “did you at least see the bruski sticks?” “The what?” said the young man. “The famous bruski sticks – did you see them?” queried the Rav, looking now into his student’s eyes. “I don’t even know what they are!” said the exasperated traveler. “My point exactly,” replied the Rav, smiling gently. “Without knowledge, there is no recognition. Here at Aish we can teach you what kedusha is about.” 

Beyond the level of p’shat, there are deeper levels of interpretation and understanding. Both the Ramban zt”l and Sforno zt”l have presented drashos concerning the meaning of kedusha:

Ramban maintains that the concept of holiness is not limited to the observance of any particular category of commandments; rather, it is an admonition that one’s approach to all aspects of life be governed by moderation and restraint. Kedusha means that it is not enough to simply observe the letter of the law; rather being holy means to ‘sanctify yourself in what is permitted to you’ [Yevomas 20a] by observing an additional degree of separation and recognition in all areas of human endeavor. Sforno similarly maintains that for the Jewish people to rise to a level of an Am Kodesh (a Holy Nation), they would have to avoid the hedonistic practices of the surrounding nations, emulate the Creator as much as possible, and adhere to the commandments. The Hebrew root of the word for ‘holy’ is kuf • dalet • shin (kodesh) and its connotation implies separation due to a difference in kind from something else [Stone Chumash].

What, exactly, is the ‘difference’ or ‘separation’ which we Jews are supposed to observe (literally, ‘see’) in this world which will make us into both ‘holy’ individuals and a ‘holy’ nation – clearly, something which our Creator desires of us. In what way should our vision of the world differ from everyone else’s? This should be the key to unlocking the door to seeing kedusha and becoming ‘holy’.

There is a Midrash Aggadah in the Gemara [Menachos 29b] which can give us an insight into this question. The Midrash tells us that our physical world was created with the letter heh (see graphic). This letter is a combination of the letter dalet (on the right) and an inverted yud (on the left). Why these two letters? Because a dalet is a representation of physical dimension (length & breadth) while a yud is a representation of spirituality (i.e. it is without physical dimensions – just a ‘dot’ – and normally ‘floats’ above the writing line).

How does the rest of the world see the world we live in? They merely see the dalet, a place of physical dimensions, but without inherent spirituality. It is a place where we should ‘eat, drink and be merry’ without restraint – the more, the better. An obsession with physical indulgence and fulfillment is the essence of an Epicurean philosophy (Google it; it still exists) and the basis of the Hebrew term epikuris – one who denies the Torah’s admonitions and commandments. It is not that the yud does not exist; it is rather that they studiously choose to ignore it. Alternatively, they maintain that spirituality is achieved through physical indulgence without restraint.

We are different from the rest of the world in that we strive to infuse its physical structure with spirituality whenever we are able. It is an acknowledgement that G-d is the Creator, that He gave us the Torah, and that every aspect of the physical world has a spiritual dimension attached to it. When the Torah tells us that “you shall be holy, for I, Hashem you G-d, am holy”, it is telling us that we have a job to do in this world:  To combine its physical dimension together with its spiritual counterpart – to make sure the world resembles the letter heh, which includes both the dalet and the yud. In this way we are partners with Hashem, sharing his vision of Creation and the way the world is supposed to be. In this way, we ourselves become holy.

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Our Chachamim (Sages) have given us an essential tool which will enable us to fulfill this mitzvah and help us to accomplish the task laid out above. By reciting brachos in association with all the myriad aspects of our physical existence, we are able to ‘bring down’ G-d’s Presence into the world and make a kiddush Hashem by doing so. Saying brachos – over food (both before and after), before and after the performance of mitzvos, praising G-d, petitioning G-d, thanking G-d for all His kindness and for all manner of wondrous physical phenomena, acknowledging G-d’s role as Creator and Master of the Universe – one hundred brachos every day [Menachos 43b] strengthen the ties between the physical creation and the spiritual essence attached to every aspect of our physical world.

This very acknowledgement acts as a kind of restraint, which in turn leads to holiness. I.e. I do not partake of every food offering in the world (nor every physical experience, for that matter), in deference to the laws of kashrus. Furthermore, I do not partake of permitted foods until I have made a bracha over them, thereby fulfilling the Talmud’s admonition to ‘sanctify yourself in what is permitted to you’ (see above). Ironically, the act of making a bracha is a restraint that is coupled with joyful anticipation: Contemplating one’s actions before acting makes every aspect of life meaningful; otherwise mundane acts are raised to a higher level; no part of my life is meaningless. Every day, I have the golden opportunity of experiencing a spiritual high! Here is the secret:  the otherwise mundane aspects of the physical world are the keys to achieving immortality, the entranceway to eternity. Who could ask for anything more?

The restraints of being ‘holy’ are not defined by feelings of limitation (as the Epicureans would claim), but rather by feelings of expansion and joy – since now I am a partner with the Creator in His vision of how the world should be. Bonding with Hashem through this concept of holiness is nothing less than transcendence on the highest level.