Sacred Time and Real Life: Where Ideals Meet Reality (Emor 5786)

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 At first glance, the Torah’s presentation of the festivals in Parshat Emor appears carefully structured and complete. From Pesach, through Sefirat HaOmer to Shavuot, and onward to the Yamim Noraim and Sukkot, the parsha maps out the sanctity of Jewish time with precision. Yet in the midst of this ordered sequence, a seemingly unrelated verse appears:

“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not completely remove the corners of your field… you shall leave them for the poor and for the stranger.”

Why interrupt a discussion of sacred time with agricultural laws of charity?

One approach, offered by the Ramban, reframes the question entirely. This verse, he suggests, is not a general repetition of the laws of pe’ah and leket, but refers specifically to ketzirat haOmer—the harvest performed for the sake of bringing an offering in the Beit HaMikdash. The Torah is teaching that, even when one is engaged in a lofty spiritual act, one must not lose sight of the needs of others. Devotion to Hashem does not exempt us from human responsibility; it demands it.

But the message does not run in only one direction. The Torah is not diminishing the importance of mitzvot or spiritual aspiration—far from it. The festivals themselves, and the entire surrounding framework, testify to the centrality of sacred time and divine service. Rather, the Torah is weaving together two dimensions that must remain inseparable: commitment to Hashem and sensitivity to people.

A second approach helps sharpen this point further. The placement of these laws here may indeed relate to Shavuot – the time of the giving of the Torah. The Torah deliberately shifts from the Beit HaMikdash to the field, from sacred ritual to the demands of physical labor. Because the true test of Torah is not in a protected, “sterile” environment, but precisely there—in the sweat and strain of a long day’s work.

It is relatively easy to live a life of Torah in moments of inspiration, in the Beit Midrash, or immersed in the sanctity of Yom Tov. The real question is whether that same Torah accompanies us into the field—into the pressures of work, the frustrations of daily life, and the complexity of human interaction. Does it still guide us when we are tired, preoccupied, or stretched? Does it shape not only what we aspire to, but how we act?

That is why this verse appears here. The journey from Pesach to Shavuot is not only a movement through sacred time; it is a movement toward integrating Torah into life itself. The mitzvot of the festivals and the mitzvot of the field are not competing values, but complementary ones. One without the other is incomplete.

Parshat Emor reminds us that a life of Torah is measured not only by moments of elevation, nor only by acts of kindness, but by the ability to hold both together—faithfully, consistently, and even under pressure.

Shabbat Shalom!

Comfort from our Calendar: Re'eh 5784

In the middle of Moshe’s lengthy oration to the Jewish people about their history and destiny, he surprises us by inserting a review of the year’s calendar holidays. The calendar has always been central to Jewish life and its survival. Indeed, during the dark regime of Stalin, Soviet Jewry was forbidden from owning or possessing a Jewish calendar. 

The depth of Soviet Jewry’s loyalty to its inner faith is evidenced by the fact that, somehow, millions of Soviet Jews still knew when the Jewish holidays would occur. For the calendar is the rhythm of our lives. It evokes memory, hope and a feeling for the timelessness of Jewish life and its traditions. As such, the mere existence of the Jewish calendar posed a threat to the cruel and atheistic Communist regime that ruled in its time over a large part of humankind. In reality, for the Jewish people the calendar does not only mark the passage of time gone by: it also focuses on time that is yet to come—on the future—which always offers brighter prospects than they experienced in the past. 

One of my younger grandchildren proudly told me that he had calculated how many years in the future a certain anomaly on the Jewish calendar regarding the date of erev Pesach would occur. I bless him that he lives to see it—but he is already certainly enthusiastic about the prospect and looks forward to its happening. 

By supplying us with a vision of the future, our calendar gives us a chance to feel that we are to some extent the masters of our own fate and that we can, by our own efforts, have some influence in determining our destiny. 

The Jewish calendar marks the progression from one holy day to the next. We are always on the way to celebrate and commemorate our obligations to serve our Creator. Though numerous sad days have been introduced into our calendar since the time of Moshe, the Jewish calendar still remains upbeat, exuding spirit and joy, family and hospitality, compassion and appreciation of life and its bounties. 

The parsha of Re’eh almost always falls in Elul, the month that leads us into the glorious days of Tishrei, to our days of awe and compassion and to Succot with its celebration of Torah and its commandments. The review of the Jewish year, which occupies a great deal of this week’s parsha, is therefore most fitting, for it prepares us not only for the month ahead but for the coming year generally. Though our future remains unknowable, we can nevertheless fee; secure, comforted by the centuries-long consistency of our calendar. Since our calendar reminds us daily of our uniqueness as a people and of the eternity of our Torah and our faith, this week’s review fits well into Moshe’s overall message. It also reminds us the passage of time is itself one of life’s gifts that is bestowed upon us by our Creator.

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein