Towards Holiness: I and Thou
This week's Torah portion, Kedoshim, opens with a famous command to the Israelites: "Kedoshim tih'yu, ki kadosh ani adonai eloheichem," "You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy" (Leviticus 19:2).
I have always read this line as a topic sentence, and the many verses that follow as answers to the question of how to go about actually striving towards holiness. For example, Kedoshim commands us to revere our parents, keep Shabbat, not turn to idols, leave gleaning in our fields for the poor and the stranger, not swear falsely, not place a stumbling block before the blind, etc. From these examples, we can see that holiness is not relegated to holy time and space -- that is, we are not meant to aspire towards kedusha only on Shabbat and festivals, and not only when we enter into specific sanctified spaces; rather, holiness is something we strive towards each and every day, wherever we may find ourselves.
Building on this idea, as I re-read the opening lines of the parasha this week, I found myself struck by the plural formulation of the phrase "kedoshim tih'yu": "you (plural) should be holy (plural)." It feels like a very fair interpretation -- and perhaps the pshat (face value meaning) of the text -- to extrapolate from these two Hebrew words that the kind of holiness the parasha envisions is only possible in the context of community -- that is, kedusha resides in interpersonal relationships.
A single line of commentary in the Etz Hayim Chumash underscores this idea, citing the work of Jewish philosopher Martin Buber. "For Buber, holiness is found... in human beings recognizing the latent divinity of other people, even as God recognizes the latent divinity in each of us" (page 693).
In unpacking this line a bit more, I'll share that Martin Buber was an Austrian-Jewish philosopher (1878-1965). He is most famous for his 1923 essay on existence entitled Ich und Du (in German, of course) -- and later translated into English with the title I and Thou. The central idea of this work is that there are two fundamentally different kinds of relationships, which he represents with two different word pairs. He calls one the I-It relationship, and the other I-Thou (sometimes translated as I-You). Buber critiques the I-It relationship, which he claims is so ubiquitous in our modern society; to him, this phrase represents objectification in relationships: the way that we might treat other people functionally, as means to an end, failing to recognize their full humanity. The I-Thou relationship, on the other hand, is the aim for Buber: when we address another person as a Thou, we are indirectly addressing God. He writes, "When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them." In other words, interpersonal dialogical relationships -- the kind where human beings encounter one another fully -- is where holiness resides.
Buber sets a very high bar for interpersonal relationships. In fact, one critique of his philosophy of "dialogical community" is that it's incredibly challenging to imagine how we might ever be able to live up to this ideal in our day-to-day lives! What would our interaction with the cashier at the grocery store need to look like if we were to see them in their full humanity and encounter them as a Thou -- a reflection of the divine -- rather than as an It? What about our relationships with our co-workers, family members, the drivers we pass in traffic, the politicians on the other side of the aisle? I-Thou is a tall order, but then again, Parashat Kedoshim seems to purposefully open with a lofty aim: the command to "be holy."
As we approach Yom HaAtzmaut this coming week, it's hard for me not to lament about how far we are from Israel's own founding vision of a state "based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel" (click here if you're interested in reading Megillat HaAtzmaut, the Israeli Declaration of Independence, in its entirety). Israelis and Palestinians are, in this moment, far from being able to see one another fully. So many obstacles stand in the way -- not least of which are the events that have brought us to this moment in time (and here, I'm talking not only of October 7th and the past seven months, but also many decades of strife) and terrible leadership. As we struggle to find a way to celebrate this milestone of Israel's 76th birthday with hope, I can't help but feel that the key to forging a holy society there lies in Buber's vision of the I-Thou encounter. That is, if people could meet and connect on a deep and human level, could imagine each other as being created in the image of the divine, could hold each other's pain and trauma, and could understand that relationship and dialogue and mutual support is the key to a shared future, then perhaps they might be able to bring a holy society into being. It's painful to feel an enormous gulf between what is and what could be.
That said, if we hope that peace might someday be achieved through deep relational encounters, it is incumbent upon us to begin the work and to practice. We can begin by trying to achieve I-Thou encounters in our own lives, on a much smaller scale, and closer to home.
I feel incredibly fortunate that I am already surrounded by small examples of these efforts in my day-to-day work and life. Here a couple of examples:
Over the last couple of weeks, I reached out to the college students of the Kavana community to see how they are faring, and I've heard back from so many of them. I'm happy to report that their responses to my questions were sensitive and nuanced. As you'd probably imagine, they expressed the full political and ideological range that any of us might expect of Seattle-raised Jewish college students at this moment in history. In addition to detailed descriptions of the protests happening on their campuses and their assessments of their administrations' handling of protests, antisemitism and more (which varied, of course), many also sent me photos from Passover seders, videos and descriptions of their personal engagement in Jewish/campus life (from tefillin pics to keffiyeh pics!), and examples of art they had created reflecting on what this year has meant on a personal identity level. Most importantly, though, many of them relayed stories about engaging in meaningful dialogue and drawing on their Jewish values as they've tried to create openings for real conversation on their campuses. It's incredibly heartening to me to have these windows into their lives, and particularly meaningful during this week of Parashat Kedoshim to reflect on the ways that Kavana's young adults, having imbibed our community's foundational values, are now indeed working to build holy community in the world beyond.
Another example that is fresh in my mind comes from last night's Kavana Board meeting. The group was discussing our upcoming Annual Partner Meeting (a week from Sunday!): a springtime event that has come to be so prized among our community members that we often hear people say that this is one of their favorite events of the year! I believe that this is the case in part because -- in addition to conveying important information and sharing reports each year -- the board always builds in opportunities for dialogue, face-to-face conversations, and deep personal connection. This year, in particular, one exercise will have people connecting in a multi-generational "turn and talk" format, very intentionally working to forge community across difference, really seeing and learning from one another in a deep way a la Buber's vision of holiness.
This kind of intentional interpersonal encounter is precisely what we're hoping to achieve, as well, through Kavana's upcoming Processing Space on May 23rd. As described in the event blurb, "Kavana will curate a space where each of us can practice unraveling the complex swirl of our thoughts and feelings, articulating our personal reactions with nuance, and listening deeply and reflectively to others who may or may not share our views." (Click here to register for this event.)
Other upcoming events in the broader Seattle Jewish community also provide opportunities to engage in true spiritual practice around these ideas. Next Tuesday evening, TDHS is hosting a program called: "A Debate for Heaven's Sake: Are Anti-Zionism and Anti-Israel Advocacy New Forms of Antisemitism?" Professor Kenneth Stern and David Bernstein, who hold divergent views, will engage with one another and with the community. Knowing that everyone who might attend will be bound to encounter at least some ideas with which they disagree, this event could be viewed as a chance to practice holy listening. And the following Sunday, May 19th, the Stroum JCC is hosting a workshop called "Speaking Across Conflict" -- offered in conjunction with Resetting the Table, and co-sponsored by the JCRC, etc -- designed to help participants safely explore differences and discover ways to creatively problem-solve and respond to escalating, charged and polarizing conversations. For anyone interested, this is a chance to gain foundational skills to facilitate deep, relationship-based conversations.
Finally, some of you may have seen the beautiful letter drafted this week by a large group of Jewish students at Columbia University who wanted to be able to speak in their own name. This is a deeply relational letter, addressing peers with whom they disagree; I appreciated its tone and approach as much as its content. In fact, Jewish Studies scholar Joshua Shanes takes issue with some of the content, but also managed to write a thoughtful response that serves as a beautiful model for how we might see one another and engage in debates and an exchange of ideas respectfully -- even and especially when we disagree -- in ways that recognize one another's humanity and dignity. To me, both of these writings contain some modicum of kedusha (holiness).
On this week of of Parashat Kedoshim, I want to challenge each of us to try to "be holy" by engaging in the deep relational work that Buber calls I-Thou. This might entail sitting face-to-face with another human being who we don't know well and asking questions from a place of curiosity (rather than to convince). This might entail engaging in a hard conversation -- teasing out points of disagreement respectfully -- while still listening deeply. This might entail trying to go through a week -- or maybe just a day or part of an hour -- with conscious attention placed on the idea that every other human being we encounter is a reflection of the divine, and that through our interaction, we have the potential to bring holiness into the world. Whatever your starting point, I suggest we each begin small and close to home, in the holy work of striving to see the hidden divinity in one another.
And then, from that small starting place, I pray that we may be inspired by the Talmudic principle about holiness: "ma'alin ba-kodesh v'ein moridin," that "we (aspire to) ascend in holiness, and never descend."
Wishing you a Shabbat Kodesh, a holy Sabbath,
Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum
