Parashat Emor concludes with one of the only narrative passages in all of Chumash Vayikra - the story of the man who blasphemes. Although the account is brief, it must be of critical importance, for otherwise, why interrupt the halachic flow of Vayikra, a Chumash suspended in time with almost no dateable events, to tell us about a single foul-mouthed boor? So, let’s turn our attention to the concluding few verses of the parashah, and work backwards from there.
“He came out, the son of an Israelite woman, he being the son of an Egyptian man, into the midst of the sons of
What follows is the Divine word to Moshe, instructing him to have the man put to death for his blasphemy, and indicating the penalty for other crimes – all of which are cases of smiting/striking, whether animal or person, whether the result is death (=murder) or injury (called here a “blemish”).
Several question arise regarding the Mekalel, as the blasphemer is referred to in the Torah. First, whence did he come out? He actually doesn't exit, but rather, enters into the midst of the camp of
Literally, this is referring to the preceding passage, which describes one of the “perks” of the Kohanim – they get to eat the “Lechem Hapanim” that rests on the golden table in the sanctuary of the Beit Hamikdash before it is distributed, still warm and fresh, a week later. The bread is described as “holy of holies”, coming from Hashem’s sacrificial offerings, and the privilege is a “hok olam” – an eternal decree.
O.K., so the last word preceding the account of the Mekalel is “olam”, but still, how does that help us understand the explanation, “he came out of his ‘olam’”? Did he bolt from inside the sanctuary, after being denied a fresh piece of the Bread of Presence, run into the midst of the camp and scream, “Gevalt!!”?
Almost. Because our Sages tell us that this man, lacking a Jewish father, though Jewish, was tribeless, and therefore was quarrelling about where – that is, with whom - he should rightfully pitch his tent. When the dispute heated up – and perhaps blows were exchanged, since subsequently we read of the punishment for inflicting a blemish – the Mekalal lashed out in all his humiliation and all his fury – against Hashem.
What precisely did he do to Hashem? He punctured the Name. The fundamental meaning of the root N-K-V, translated above correctly in context as “to specify”, means “puncture”, “penetrate”. And, having punctured the protective sheath of fear and trembling which guards the sanctity of the Name, he reamed it out – “he blasphemed” is actually, “he made light, insubstantial”. The Holy Divine Name was “shown” as empty, insubstantial, meaningless.
What an ironic twist. Here this poor chap, jealous of his pedigreed fellow Jews, wanting to also taste the Eternity of the Presence viscerally, desperate to find his place, if not among the Kohanim, then somewhere, and, suddenly, he jettisons the whole enterprise.
"It’s his mom’s fault!!" That’s what the tradition might seem to imply, when it interprets her names as implying too much fraternization with all sorts of passers-by. But even it we don’t go there, we can understand how being raised in an environment where speech, the instrument of deepest connection to the substance of the other, but here reduced to chatter and empty banter, would result in a blemished sense not only of the Other, but also, and more critically, in a falsely inflated notion of entitlement and NO trepidation before the holy.
Our parashat begins with an unusually twist on a familiar introductory formula: “Vayomer Hashem el Moshe, emor el hakohanim b’nei Aharon vayomer aleihem” – Hashem said to Moshe, say to the the Kohahim, sons of Aharon and say to them.
Usually, it would have used daber in place of emor: SPEAK to the Kohanim, not SAY. First the act of speech, then the content. Rashi explains: it’s to warn the adults regarding the minors. This comment of Rashi’s has generated many, many creative interpretations, but the original context is in the gemara (Yevamot 114a) . There, it means that the Kohanim may not render their children impure with their own hands, even though the children themselves may not yet be subject to the mitzvot for which impurity is an impediment.
Now: tum’ah is a halachic category. If there is no halachic consequence to the tum’ah for the minor, why should it matter whether he, though he be a Kohen, be tame’? True, he might render others impure, but Rashi’s comment is, “to warn adults regarding minors”! The concern is for the minor himself! And his situation is remedied by speaking to him gently, so that the content get through, not overwhelmed by the “envelope”, the speaking of an adult which often pre-empts, for the child, WHAT it is that is being said. In order to make sure a child is not blemished inside, in a way that won’t be manifest for years but is all the more serious for its long latency, the Kohanim, who bless with their speech and utter the Divine Name, must transmit that content through an attitude toward speech in which holiness comes through in both utterance and message. Parent models this to child – this is the inner essence of the oral tradition, the sense in which the whole Torah is names of the Divine.
The opposite of Mekalel, one who makes light of, is Mechabed, one who imparts weight, substance, one who honors. In a world in which delight is taken in letting the air out of all things of standing and substance, by running them through with the blade of our flightiness and inconsequence, let us warn the still-child inside us of the potential for purity, of our inescapable role as guardians of the sacred, and of that delicious, warm, nourishing presence that, though it abide the long, long week in the recesses of the sanctuary, will melt, still warm, on the praising tongues of our patient, expanding awareness of the Holy.
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