THE JOY OF GOODNESS
May 3, 2003
Rabbi Edward Paul Cohn
Temple Sinai
New Orleans, Louisiana
For some reason, each year when this Torah portion comes around, I
am drawn to title my sermon, "The Joy of Goodness." It's a phrase which
comes, of course, from our old Union Prayerbook and it describes the
religious fervor and satisfaction of one who earnestly attempts to do the
right by way of God and one's fellows.
"The Joy of Goodness" describes that excitement and enjoyment of
life which accrues to one who attempts to fulfill, even to an imperfect
degree, the magnificent standards of living described in our Torah portion
this morning. The Holiness Code of Leviticus 19 parallels the majesty of the
Ten Commandments. In many ways, the Holiness Code augments and
makes specific strategies by which you and I can fulfill those Ten
Commandments. In so doing, we attain to a higher level of holiness out of
respect for the Holy One, Blessed Be He.
The German theologian, Rudolf Otto, wrote a famous book on religion
which he titled, The Idea of the Holy. Dr. Otto maintained that the essence
of all religions, the mood from which they all of them spring, and which
undergirds every faith, is the abiding sense of and thirst for holiness.
But what does that mean, really? It's difficult to put into words, as
such great concepts as love and truth are similarly hard to describe.
Whatever else holiness may be, it certainly involves an attitude toward
ourselves and others. These attitudes do not constitute a definition of
holiness, but when considered altogether, they form a fairly adequate
description of the mood and aspiration of holiness.
I. In Worship, a Sense of Perfection
The Book of Leviticus begins with a description of animal sacrifices
offered in the portable Tabernacle. Like it or not, and most of us choose the
latter, these details present some reliable reflection of how earnest our
ancestors were to do the right and to offer the best to God.
The animals to be sacrificed were required to be "perfect." Now you
and I know there's no such thing, of course, as a perfect animal. Even blue
ribbon prize winners at county fairs and the Westminster Dog Show are
merely better than the other contestants, but never perfection. Yet the
person who brought the sacrifice to the ancient Tabernacle always tried to
find that which was most perfect.
As our faith and its expression have evolved through the centuries, the
perfect sacrifice upon the altar has become transformed into "the sacrifice of
the heart," which is the classic description of prayer. What we bring with us
into God's house, within our heart and soul and mind, must be as perfect as
we are able!
We know ourselves too well to fool ourselves and others about us that
we are perfect in any way. For we know ourselves to be a mixture of the
material and spiritual, the immortal and the finite, the righteous and the
ignoble. And yet, by entering these doors, we make the manifestly
conscious effort to elevate the best and the highest that is within us and to
bring our "perfect sacrifice" to God in our prayers. When we enter this
place, we bring to this hour our inner picture of what we hope to become.
In that sense, the mood of abiding appreciation and thanksgiving for the
possibility of our growth constitutes a large part of our mood of holiness.
II. To Our Fellow Men and Women--Nobility
The Book of Leviticus moves on from its concern with the Tabernacle
and its "perfect sacrifices" toward the dwelling tents of the children of Israel
and the details of their daily living. For this, also, Leviticus depicts an
exalted mood. It speaks of hearts completely cleansed of hate, "bear no
grudge to anyone; love thy neighbor as thyself."
Our Torah portion calls upon you and me to become k'doshim by
being m'kadshim--sanctifiers of life in our everyday encounters. Everyone of
us has the power within to lift our hands and hearts to restore a sense of
kedushah to human interaction and, in so doing, to lift up the name of God
in our time.
We know that we are not perfect, and that an untotally unselfish
relationship to our fellows is beyond us. And yet, are there not times when
we feel within us the urgency toward reaching for forgiveness toward others
and enlarging the benefits of mercy and goodness toward all of God's
creatures? That's what I mean by "The Joy of Goodness"! So, the striving
for nobility in our human relationships is certainly a large part of the mood
of holiness.
III. To Society-Idealism
From our daily contacts, the Book of Leviticus moves us on toward
social reconstruction. We have here described the perfect society in which
men and women, freed from debt every seven years, restored to their land
every fifty years, will succeed in "proclaiming liberty throughout the land
unto all the inhabitants thereof."
Our fathers and mothers were painfully aware that a society so
organized as to be without poverty, an onerous burden, may well be beyond
our present reach. And yet it is the eternal demand of our faith never to
cease to believe in or work for the realization of such a day. Cynicism about
society, pessimism about the human future, is to bathe ourselves and our
souls in unholiness.
So, when we raise ourselves to the mood of idealistic hope and are
confident that society can be rebuilt so as to embody the will of God as its
very cornerstone, this idealism becomes part and parcel with what we
understand as the mood of holiness.
All the great sentences of holiness represent practical impossibilities.
We can never bring a "perfect" gift to the sanctuary, nor are we able to love
our neighbor as ourselves, nor have a world of perfect happiness and liberty.
Yet, the Book of Leviticus persistently holds for us this picture of perfection.
It is a vision which ought to make us thoroughly discontented with the
imperfections of this life and should lead us to take yet another step toward
the fulfillment of the greatest sentence of all of the Book of Leviticus: "You
shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God am holy."
Amen.