A Teaching for Parashat Emor by Leah Julian

This past Pesach I was reading through some new haggadot in order to prepare for my family’s seder, and I came across a new tidbit that I had never learned before. It was about the meaning of charoset. I have to confess something to you. Before this I never really thought much about charoset beyond what I was taught in religious school as a kid- that it symbolizes the mortar the Israelite slaves used to build the pyramids, and that it’s yummy. I was not aware that there is a whole debate in the Talmud (Pesachim 116a) about the meaning and purpose of charoset. One rabbi argues for the standard “mud/mortar” meaning and that the spices in charoset represent the straw in the mud. Another rabbi says that we eat it “In memory of the apple tree” (Pesahim 116a). Which apple tree? The only apple tree mentioned in the Bible is in Song of Songs (8:5) where the female lover tells her beloved “under the apple tree I roused you.” While the rabbi in the Talmud does not elaborate on what he meant by “in memory of the apple tree,” the author of the haggadah I was reading, Gabriella Spitzer, provided a beautiful and powerful explanation of this rabbi’s interpretation, based on that line from Song of Songs: the apple tree is where Israelite slaves would meet their lovers in secret and share intimacy and leisure time together. One of the most oppressive aspects of slavery in Egypt was that there was no time to be with loved ones- there was no time for anything except back breaking work. Enslavement not only involved oppressive work and working conditions but also oppressive constraints on time and cherished relationships. According to Spitzer, then, we eat the charoset to remind ourselves of the sweetness of the freedom to be masters over our own time, and the sweetness of using that time to be with the ones who make our lives sweeter. 

I find this explanation of the meaning of charoset incredibly beautiful. I think all of us who live in this fast paced capitalistic world, know what it’s like to not be in control of our own time- how maddening and desperate that can feel. In many ways, time is all we have and we have so little of it. When anything or anyone tries to take that away from us, it feels oppressive. Being masters of our time, being able to use it in the ways we most desire with the people we love the most- that is one of the sweetest things any of us may ever experience.

Jewish tradition loves to mark time. We have holidays to mark the seasons, we have a holiday to mark the end of the week, we have holidays to mark history, we have life cycle events for specific times in our lives, we have special blessings for all of these holidays and events, and we even have a blessing for doing something for the first time or for the first time in a long time: the shehecheyanu. Jewish tradition loves to mark time because Jewish tradition understands that time is sacred. Our calendar is one of the hallmarks of the Jewish tradition, and it lays out a beautiful map through which our lives are guided. 

All of this, the map of our calendar and the ways in which we are supposed to mark sacred time, comes from this week’s parsha- Parshat Emor. In Parshat Emor, the “moadim” , the fixed times we are supposed to celebrate, are laid out. We get Shabbat, we get Pesach, the Omer, Shavuot, Yom Kippur, Sukkot- and many of the laws we are supposed to observe in order to celebrate each of these holidays. It all begins though in Leviticus 23:2, with a curious command: 

God says to Moses “Speak to the Israelite people and say to them”:

 מוֹעֲדֵ֣י יְהֹוָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־תִּקְרְא֥וּ אֹתָ֖ם מִקְרָאֵ֣י קֹ֑דֶשׁ אֵ֥לֶּה הֵ֖ם מוֹעֲדָֽי׃

These are My fixed times, the fixed times of יהוה, which you shall proclaim as sacred occasions.

God says YOU (the Israelites) shall proclaim MY (God’s) fixed times as sacred. What does this mean? Isn’t God just telling us when the holidays are- what more actually needs to be said and done? Shouldn’t we just do what God says? 

The traditional rabbinic understanding of this is that in Parshat Emor God gives the Jewish people an outline of the calendar but it is only through the decree of the Sanhedrin, the rabbinic court, that it is put into force. It is the Sanhedrin who are to fix the dates so that Pesach occurs in spring, and that Shavuot occurs in the summer when the first fruits are picked, and that Shabbat falls every 7 days. The Or HaChaim, an 18th century commentary on Torah, says “the Torah had to say…”these are the appointed seasons of the Lord which you are to proclaim,” to inform us that we are entitled to adjust the part of the calendar dealing with those days to suit our needs. This is followed by the respective dates in the first month, the third month and the seventh month which are liable to be affected by adjustments made by the Sanhedrin.” So while we are commanded to mark these sacred occasions, we are allowed to fix them at times that work for us. For instance, when the Sanhedrin fixed the dates of the calendar that we now celebrate to this day, when they first did this thousands of years ago they chose dates and times of year that were conducive to Jews living in diaspora to be able to travel to Jerusalem for the festivals. They also chose dates based on when the weather was best for each occasion. There were human and climate related considerations to take into account, and this was all by design. We weren’t just supposed to do something because God said to, we were supposed to do it in a way that worked for us. We were supposed to work in partnership with God to make time sacred. 

The Sanhedrin are long gone now, and their work in fixing the calendar is long over. However, this idea of being commanded to mark time but in ways and at times that work for us is eternally relevant. In bringing us out of Egypt God gave us back our ability to mark time on our own terms. God gave us responsibilities but gave us the freedom to fulfill them in ways that work for us. Rabbi Elyse Goldstein reminds us that Leviticus 23:2 tells us that “though the festivals are appointed for God, they are not actually appointed by God… once we as humans proclaim a day holy, it becomes holy to God.” This is true not only for the moadim, the fixed sacred times that God sets out in Parshat Emor, but for all the times we set aside in our lives as sacred. When we make time for a family dinner and proclaim it as sacred- it becomes sacred to God. When we set aside time to read that book we’ve been itching to read- because reading it will provide us with rest and rejuvenation- that time becomes sacred to God. When we fix that Thursday afternoon yoga class with our friends as part of our weekly rhythm because it helps us connect to our bodies and our cherished relationships- that time becomes sacred to God. 

Unfortunately we are not all in control of our time all the time. While we may not be slaves to Pharaoh anymore, we are still in some ways slaves to other forces: work, systems, technology, and more. Our time is taken from us by so many forces that are out of our control, and yet we still have the power to set aside time and make it holy. The root of the Hebrew word for holiness or sacredness, kedusha, kuf-dalet-hey literally means “set apart.” Something only becomes sacred when it is set apart. That is true for objects and it is true for time. When we set apart time for things and people who are important to us, we are making time holy. When we make time holy to us, we make it holy to God. 

Time is easy to take for granted. I think that’s why the lesson about the meaning of charoset struck me so deeply. I often take for granted that for the most part I get to choose how I spend my time. The idea of that being taken away from me makes me feel panicky. Reflecting on the sweetness of the lovers meeting under the apple tree has made me realize how much I value being able to maximize my time doing things that are important to me, with people who are important to me. Obviously this isn’t possible to do at all times, because sometimes we have to spend an hour on the phone with the insurance agent. But when we are able to set aside time for the important things, to make it holy, it doesn’t just become holy to us, it takes on a whole other level of cosmic meaning. It is a declaration of our freedom. It is an affirmation of our inherent dignity as human beings who are created B’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God. 

On this Shabbat and in the week ahead may you have moments of holiness that you yourself choose- that you actively set aside and make sacred. May we all exercise our freedom of time responsibly and joyfully, and may we all come to know the gift of our time and realize the sacred gift of our lives. Shabbat shalom.