Parashat Emor 5786
Rabbi Shmuel Rabinowitz, Rabbi of the Western Wall and Holy Sites
Parashat Emor deals with the unique status of the kohanim who served in the Temple. The Torah sets a particularly strict standard of conduct for them: they must maintain a special level of purity and avoid contact with the dead, except for their seven closest relatives.
At first glance, these laws seem to apply only to the kohanim. But when we look deeper, a profound and highly relevant human message emerges – one that speaks to each of us.
This portion is read during the days of the Counting of the Omer when Judaism emphasizes mutual respect and love between people as preparation for receiving the Torah on the festival of Shavuot. The Torah was given at Mount Sinai when the people stood “as one person with one heart,” without division.
During this same period, 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died because they did not treat one another with respect. Their teacher was the one who coined the famous teaching: “Love your fellow as yourself – this is a great principle in the Torah.” Precisely because of this, the expectation from his students was especially high, and their failure was considered particularly severe. Every year during the Omer, we seek to repair that flaw.
Against this background, it is interesting to consider the wording of the opening verse of the parasha:
“Say to the priests, the sons of Aaron, and tell them: none shall defile himself for the dead among his people, except for his close kin…”
(Leviticus 21:1–2)
Seemingly, the law could have been phrased more directly and simply, specifying who a priest is allowed to become impure for. Why does the Torah choose a more general and somewhat ambiguous wording: “he shall not defile himself among his people”?
Rabbi Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye, a leading disciple of the Baal Shem Tov, offered a Hasidic interpretation that sees a moral hint: the prohibition is not only about physical impurity, but also about a “defilement” of attitude. A person considered a public figure or someone of status must be especially careful not to look at others with arrogance or dismissal. That too is a form of impurity. Therefore, the priest is commanded: “he shall not defile himself among his people.”
This idea is sharpened in the famous Talmudic story (Shabbat 33b) about Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and his son Rabbi Elazar. After 12 years of hiding in a cave, they emerged and saw people engaged in ordinary worldly activities. Their initial reaction was harsh: how could people abandon spiritual life for temporary matters? According to the description, their gaze burned whatever they saw. Immediately, a heavenly voice declared: “Have you come to destroy My world? Return to your cave!” And so they returned for another 12 months of reflection.
When they emerged again, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai had undergone a profound transformation. He learned to view the world with greater acceptance. In contrast, Rabbi Elazar still viewed reality with sharp criticism. The difference between them became clear: wherever Rabbi Elazar saw fault and reacted negatively, Rabbi Shimon intervened, corrected, and healed. He had internalized that everyday life is also part of a complete picture full of value and meaning, and that every person has a unique role in the world.
Many years later, the Talmud recounts another incident involving Rabbi Elazar:
Once, Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Shimon was returning from his teacher, feeling proud because of the Torah he had learned. He encountered a man who was extremely unattractive. The man greeted him: “Peace be upon you, my rabbi!” but Rabbi Elazar did not respond. Instead, he said: “How ugly this man is! Are all the people of your city as ugly as you?”
The man replied: “I do not know, but go and tell the Craftsman who made me how ugly is the vessel He has made.”
When Rabbi Elazar realized he had sinned, he dismounted from his donkey, prostrated himself before the man, and said: “Forgive me!” The man replied: “I will not forgive you until you go to the Craftsman who made me and tell Him how ugly is the vessel He made.”
(Talmud, Ta’anit 20a)
The Talmud continues: they arrived in the city, and the townspeople, who knew of Rabbi Elazar’s greatness, pleaded with the man to forgive him, explaining that he was a righteous person who had momentarily failed. Only after their urging did the man forgive him.
Following this, Rabbi Elazar entered the study hall and through recognition of his mistake, formulated a guiding principle for life:
“A person should always be soft like a reed, and not hard like a cedar.”
Here we have a familiar human situation: a successful person encounters someone he perceives as inferior and fails to treat him with proper respect. And it is the “simple” person who responds with a statement that shakes his perspective: “Go to the Craftsman who made me” – meaning, we are all created by one Creator, all possess value, and no one has the right to look down on another. Rabbi Elazar immediately understands his mistake and, from that awakening, teaches a fundamental principle: a person must train himself in humility and acceptance of others – to be flexible like a reed that bends in the wind, rather than rigid like a cedar.
This idea was most strongly expressed by Rabbi Akiva. Before becoming one of the greatest sages, he himself, despite being modest and of good character, felt distant from Torah scholars, sensing that they looked down on ordinary people. From that place, he arrived at the great declaration of loving one’s fellow as a central principle of the Torah.
The message that emerges from all of this is clear: true greatness is not measured only by knowledge or status, but by the ability to see every person as equal in value. A healthy society is not built on rigid hierarchy, but on mutual recognition, respect, and shared responsibility.
In our world, where social, cultural, and economic differences often create deep divisions, this call is more relevant than ever. If we can remove even some of the labels, stereotypes, and the urge to compare and elevate ourselves above others, we will discover a different society, one based on respect, goodwill, and partnership.
Perhaps this is the deeper lesson of Parashat Emor: true purity is not only in external actions, but first and foremost in the way we look at others.
