Timeless Torah

To the Kohanim: “Each of you shall not contaminate himself...They shall be holy to their G-d.” To the Children of Israel: “Hashem’s appointed festivals that you are to designate as holy.” The two dominant themes of this week’s reading repeatedly refer to a particular class of people and specific days as holy. What exactly is holy? What makes one group of individuals or dates holier than others?

I remember the first time I went to Israel. It was the holiday of Succos, or as the Torah titles it, the Season of our Rejoicing. It was with great anticipation that we left our hotel and walked through the old Jewish quarter. Our first glimpse of the Wall was magnificent. I could not have painted it better. The sun was setting behind the Western Wall and the sky was lit up a fiery red. At that moment, the emotion that coursed through me was one of spiritual inspiration, one that I will never forget.

Yet even that was insignificant when compared to what happened when I finally reached the Kosel. In truth, I was a little hesitant to approach. Was I holy enough? Wouldn’t G-d see through me at such close quarters? I was still apprehensive, when I began to offer my prayers and rarely have I davened so sincerely, as that first time standing so palpably in Hashem’s holy presence.
If someone were to ask me to describe in one word what I felt then when I was touching the ancient stones, I would have to respond, holy. But short of going to Jerusalem, is there nothing in our paltry experiences on this side of the Atlantic that can help us understand the feeling of being alone with G-d?

The word holy needs to be defined for our American brothers and sisters. What holiness is to be found here in our culture of commercialism, which can be utilized as a metaphor for the real thing? Over the course of time it has become clear to me that few things today are treated as holy. So where in our world of sophisticated cynicism and shattered idols can we discover the one spot where everyone universally acts with old fashioned reverence? The only place is in front of the ATM.

Even in bustling downtown, where crowds jostle each other carelessly, we all give a wide berth to those standing in front of the ATM. We offer this courtesy to others in the hope that others will do the same for us. Those waiting in line stand a respectful few feet away. The reason is simple: we don’t want others to see what is going on in our bank account, and we know that everyone feels the same way.

As our turn finally arrives, we don’t have to be flustered and hurry. No one beeps their horn or starts getting agitated if you have to try more than once. For is there anyone amongst us who has not experienced our request being turned down the first time? Politely we insert our piece of plastic and the machine, without raising its voice asks us for only one piece of information: Nothing too difficult. Something we’re bound to remember but no one else can decipher. Thus we enter our PIN# and wait for the good, or the bad, news. Chamber music might be appropriate as we wait for the brutal truth.

Without any accusatory fingers or raised eyebrows, our balance to date is made clear. We have made deposits, but too many withdrawals. We are flirting dangerously with the overdraft. And if we’re thinking there must be some mistake, there is a record of all our recent transgressions, (excuse me, I meant to say transactions). As we finally come to grips with what we do and don’t have to our credit, we make a final request. And without any begrudge or warning, that perhaps we had better put something in before we take more out, we receive our money. Truly, we have been touched.

On a similar note is our approach to the Wall. At times there are thousands of people, all waiting to touch the rocks that have seen and heard it all. Yet no one admonishes you if your prayer is too long. In fact, your tears only evoke their sympathy, and also thankfulness, that whatever troubles have beset you, should stay far away from them. Like the anonymous plastic bank card we may all hold the same Prayer Book and recite the same Shema. At the same time we are fully aware that we each have a personal spiritual identification number. Maybe it is to be found in the crumpled up note we’ve placed in between two stones, maybe in the attendant thoughts that accompany our tefillah. Regardless, at the Wall, we can’t hide our spiritual deposits, withdrawals, remaining balance, or if we have any credit left with the Bank upstairs.

It seems that the money industry has usurped our best words for what we seek in a holy relationship with G-d; Fidelity, Trust, Bond, Interest, Provident, Security, etc. King Solomon predicted this more than two thousand years ago when he stated that if you want to achieve authentic awe, you must, “Seek it like silver.” So what is Holy? Being alone with the holy truth.