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Our parasha this week ends with the story of the blasphemer. A Jew whose father was Egyptian blasphemes and is sentenced to death. What does the Torah teach us by relating this episode?

The answer may well be found in our quote. God gives Moshe a speech to give the Israelites, at the end of which He says: "There shall be one law for you, for both the proselyte and the native born, for I am God , Lord of you all." It seems that this is a lesson in equality before the law. Equality before the law must be applied both ways. It is not just there to protect the weak. It is also there to put equal responsibility on every person. Even though the blasphemer has an Egyptian father (supposedly still in Egypt, if alive at all) and is therefore socially at a disadvantage, even though the Israelite man he quarreled with may have made fun of his ancestry, there are some things that may not be done by anyone. He has equal responsibility with the rest of the Jewish people in the wilderness not to blaspheme God's name with a curse. He received the Torah at Mount Sinai like everyone else.

On another level, our Sages say that the Egyptian father of the blasphemer is the taskmaster whom Moshe killed as a young man. The Jew that the taskmaster was beating was the husband of Shelomit bat Divri, the blasphemer's mother. The taskmaster was taking advantage of his position to have relations with Shelomit without her husband knowing. Her husband had begun to suspect and that is why the taskmaster was beating him. Through this illicit relationship, the blasphemer was born. Assuming that this is widely known, the blasphemer should be an important national symbol! He represents the cruel repression of Egypt, literally born out of it. He also represents the beginning of salvation, the first act of defiance by Moshe when he killed the taskmaster. Despite his national importance, though, God commands equality before the law and hence the blasphemer is judged like anyone else.

We can see, therefore, that this episode teaches us the true depth of the concept of equality before the law in Torah. Every Jew, regardless of their birth, is held equally responsible before the law. The relieving of the inequality in society must be energetically pursued, but NOT through relieving people of their responsibility. And no one, no matter how important to the Jewish people, can claim immunity before the law. The Torah requires total equality before the law.

[Prepared by Samuel Jackman]

In this week’s parsha, we read of the mitzva, “And an ox or a lamb, he and his son you shall not slaughter on the same day.” While this mitzva seems, at face value, to rule against cruelty to animals, Ramban and Rambam, in a famous controversy, dispute the exact purpose of this mitzva and others like it.

Rambam explains, in the most straightforward fashion, that we are indeed obligated to consider the feelings of animals. He says that the pain that a father experiences upon seeing his son being killed is no less real for animals than it is for humans, and we must therefore be sensitive to it.

Ramban claims, however, that in observing this commandment, we pay no direct attention to the feelings of animals. Rather, the purpose of this mitzva (and that of shilu’ach hakein [D’varim 22:6], in which context Ramban states his opinion on the matter) is to strengthen within ourselves the characteristic of sensitivity and to drive out any manner of cruelty. In other words, our actions in this case are significant not in their own right, but rather from a greater perspective of how they reflect and affect our character as a whole.

[Prepared by Reuven Weiser.]

It is often at this time of year - in the season of Holocaust Remembrance Day, of Israel's fallen soldiers day, and of Yom Ha'atzmaut, that a Jew living in today's world can feel overwhelmed by the momentous events that occurred a half-century or so ago. The magnitude of the events which these special days commemorate, their import for the entire nation, is so great that we can find ourselves lost when we attempt to formulate an opinion of where we stand regarding them. There are many events where we see - even if we cannot understand the reasons behind it - the hand of God operating contrary to the way we expect events to unfold.

We ask ourselves where a Jew stands in his relationship to God, and where God fits into this relationship with the Jewish people in general, and each individual Jew in particular. The answer to this question might be seen when this week's parasha is examined. God, man, the Jew, spirituality, and materialism all intermingle in one verse:

The sages chose this verse specifically with which to teach that a person should give up their very lives for 'kedushat ha-shem' the sanctification of God's name - and how much more so, the "ordinary" precept of "self-sacrifice" regarding religious duties.

The Sfat Emet (R. Yehudah Arye Leib of Gur 1847-1905) explains that it is through the act of self-sacrifice that the innate holiness in a person is revealed. Where does this innate holiness come from? "Ani Hashem mekadishchem - I am the Lord that makes you holy." God instills a measure of holiness in the soul of each Jew. However, explains the Sfat Emet, this power that exists in each soul is shrouded by the material nature of man. It is the act of self-sacrifice, of giving up something physical for a higher, spiritual, cause that clears away this shroud of materialism.

It is also through this act of self-sacrifice - an effort to attain holiness - that God's name becomes sanctified. (A "Kiddush Hashem" is performed). This is a fulfillment of "ve-nikdashti betoch Bnei Yisrael - I will be sanctified among the Children of Israel."

How can it work that our revealing of our innate holiness can sanctify God, while really it only exists because God put it there in the first place? It would appear to reveal a part of God's holiness that had always existed. No new sanctification, no revelation of any "new" holiness appears to have occurred!

The Sfat Emet answers that whilst God did give a part of His own holiness to Bnei Yisrael - it is incumbent upon them to expand it, thus meriting a new overflowing of holiness. He explains how the same is true regarding the period of the counting of the Omer in which we presently find ourselves.

At Pesach time, the element of sanctification is bestowed on all. The entire nation was released from bondage and all acquired a certain "upgrade" in their closeness to the Creator. The command then comes: "U-sfartem lachem - you shall count FOR YOURSELVES" it is this period where man acts himself - to use and hone the holiness given to him and to thus elevate it. This way, it will be that on the holiday of Shavuot, at the end of the Omer period, the two forces: the passive instilling of our innate holiness along with the new expanded, honed and elevated holiness, come together.

This double sanctification - being sanctified by God, and sanctifying Him - is represented by the offering of the two loaves that are waved on Shavuot.

Man both receives FROM God, and gives TO Him. We cannot always delve to the depths of understanding His ways, for His thoughts are not like our thoughts, and His ways are not like our ways; bwe can be conscious of the fact that the relationship between us - the sorrows inflicted, the gifts bestowed, and the cost of maintaining them - is an interactive one.

Man serves God, and God gives to man. The selfless act of self-sacrifice for the sanctification of His name is what will bring all this to light. We make Him holy - with the same holiness instilled in us by God.

[Prepared by Reuven Lavi]

In Vayikra 22:31 Hashem instructs us, "Guard my commandments and perform them." This combination of guarding and performing the commandments - shmira and asiya in Hebrew - seems to be an important one as it is repeated many times throughout the Torah. Examples of its appearance include Vayikra 19:37, 20:8, 20:22; Devarim 4:6, 5:1, 5:29; 7:12, 11:32, and 29:8.

In his work on Rashi's commentary, Rabbi Avraham ben Shlomo HaLevi Bakarat asks why are we told to guard God's commandments (mitzvot). One would have thought that asiya, the performance of the mitzvot, should be sufficient. In his own words, "Once a person is already performing a mitzva, why does God need to continue and instruct the person to guard it?" (I will address what it means to guard a commandment later.)

An even more basic question can be asked on our instructions in Vayikra 22:31. Do we even need to be told to keep the commandments? The commandments themselves imply an obligation of their performance! Imagine the absurdity of a government first passing a law prohibiting theft, and then passing a different law requiring people to abide by the law that prohibits theft.

At this point, the entire verse of "Guard my commandments and perform them" seems unnecessary as we do not need to be told to either guard or perform the mitzvot!

Sforno (on Vayikra 19:37 and Devarim 7:12) is helpful in answering our questions. He explains that shmira and asiya are not two independent ideas, but one. The basic obligation is to perform the mitzvot, however this performance should take place through one's guarding of them. An analogy: we are not being commanded to 1. run and 2. jump but to take a running jump; not shmira and asiya but asiya through shmira.

Now we can understand why we are told to perform the commandments. The instruction is not an extra one, "do what you have already been instructed to do," but rather a new idea about HOW to perform the commandments - through guarding them.

Still, the basic questions of what it means to guard the mitzvot, and what it means to perform the mitzvot through guarding them have to be addressed.

Rashi says that guarding the mitzvot means learning about them. (Rabbi Ovadia Bartenura in his work Amar Nikei suggests Mishlei 22:28 as a source for Rashi.) The Torah Temima further explains that one needs the technical knowledge of how the mitzvot are to be performed in order to carry them out properly. In other words, according to the Torah Temima guarding the commandments mean learning their laws, and performing mitzvot through guarding them means that one should approach a mitzva knowing as much as possible about how to fulfill it.

The Siftei Chachamim agrees with Rashi that guarding the mitzvot means learning about them. At the same time, he offers a slightly different explanation for the need for the learning. While the Torah Temima says that the goal of shmira is to gain technical know-how to enable performance, the Siftei Chachamim wrote that the goal of the study is to instill the mitzvot in one's heart. Asiya through shmira for the Siftei Chachamim means, in his words, "guarding the mitzvot in your heart and then doing what is guarded in your heart." I take this to mean that the performance of mitzvot should stem out of some sort of internalization of them. Spiritual/psychological preparation should precede one's doing of a mitzva.

In summary, the commandment to, "Guard my commandments and perform them" at first glance seems unnecessary. In light of Sforno, we can understand the verse to instruct not two independent ideas of shmira and asiya, but one idea - asiya through shmira. For the Torah Temima, this means performing mitzvot with some level of expertise in the technical side of their performance. For the Siftei Chachamim, asiya through shmira means that the performance of the mitzvot should be an expression of one's heart. Both agree that preparation, be it technical or spiritual, enhances one's fulfilling of God's word.

[Prepared by Elan Penn]

Among the topics covered in Parashat Emor is the mitzva of counting the omer, the period within which we currently find ourselves. One word in the Torah's presentation of this imperative seems to require clarification: "Usfartem LAKHEM…" - "You shall count FOR YOURSELVES…" The gemara understands the extra term as suggesting that the mitzva applies to each individual. Unlike the counting of years and shemitta cycles, which falls upon the shoulders of the Sanhedrin representing the nation, the mitzva of counting the omer obligates everyone.

Rav Shlomo Yosef Zevin adds that the word "lakhem" may also indicate the mindset with which one must undertake this counting. Generally speaking, counting something points to inherent significance to that being counted. Items are counted only because they are important enough that their number bears significance. Rav Zevin thus suggests that the counting of the omer symbolizes the attitude one must have towards his life - one of counting. Each day in an individual's life must be seen as bearing untold significance, as each day presents great opportunities for achievement. Through the ritual of counting the omer, we declare that we deem our days worthy enough to be counted, reviewed, and carefully assessed.

However, Rav Zevin observes, not all types of counting are alike. One may conduct an inventory of his assets either personally or through the services of a professional accountant. When he himself assesses his wealth, he naturally engages not just his calculator and spreadsheet, but his emotions, as well. The result of the inventory has direct and far-reaching ramifications - for his children's education, his mortgage, a new car, etc. The accountant, however, maintains an entirely objective frame of mind as he counts his client's wealth. He receives the same paycheck no matter what. He works carefully, of course, as any responsible professional would. His heart and soul, however, remain some distance from the procedure.

When we "count our days," when we review our life and assess our accomplishments and failures, we must do so "for yourselves." The Torah requires that we look upon our days as profoundly relevant to us, and assess them in a manner befitting the counting of one's dearly held possessions. Indeed, our most precious asset is time. The mitzva of counting the omer teaches us that we must view our time as bearing enough meaning and significance to "count" it, to carefully examine how productive it has been. The extra word "lakhem" adds that this process must receive our utmost attention and concern, that we review our accomplishments and shortcomings in life with the same care and passion as a businessman infuses into his assessments of his holdings.

[Prepared by David Silverberg]

This verse is the source of the counting from Pesach to Shavuot known as Sefirat Ha-omer. There seems to be one word in the verse that is incorrect. We start to count on the second day of Pesach; however, the Torah seemingly alludes to a counting that should start on a Sunday, the day after Shabbat. In fact, this misled the Baytusim to always start counting Sefirat Ha-omer on Sunday (Menachot 65a). Rashi on verse 11 quotes Rav Yosse who proves that the weekly Shabbat cannot be the reference. Rav Yosse notes that if the Shabbat mentioned in the Torah were the weekly Shabbat then we wouldn't know from which Shabbat to count. Nonetheless, the language is still problematic. If the Torah meant the day after Yom Tov then why didn't it say so?

The Maharal explains that in general one can't start a counting from a random point in time; rather, there must be some form of closure to the previous period in order to enable the beginning of a new one. The Torah specifically refers to the shivitah aspect of Yom Tov, the resting indicated by refrain from work. Termination of work is a break that indicates that the missions of the preceding period have been completed, enabling a new counting. The Yom Tov component alone, the higher state of holiness, is not sufficient to allow the beginning of new period indicated by counting (Gur Aryeh 23:9).

The message of the Maharal is a powerful one. One shouldn't perceive Yom Tov as merely a holy day, but rather, one must view it as the culmination of the proceeding days as demonstrated by refrain from work. Thus, Sefirat Haomer should not merely be a counting in anticipation of Shavuot but a period of preparation for the receiving of the Torah on Shavuot.

[Prepared by Yossi Kra.]

Parashat Emor addresses the prohibition of offering on the altar animals considered "ba'alei mumin," meaning, animals with physical defects. The Seforno, commenting on 22:27, observes that in many instances a blemished animal will actually be worth more than its non-defective counterpart. A healthy, beefy bull with a split eyelid will wear a far more respectable price tag than a scrawny, emaciated one without any defects. Yet, while the former may not ascend upon the altar, the latter may be offered.

This perhaps reflects a principle that requires constant reinforcement. Value and worth in the eyes of the Almighty often differ or even in conflict with value and worth as determined or established by society. Just as the market price of a cow tells us little of the Torah's viewpoint towards the animal, so does people's assessment of a certain ideology, attitude or mode of conduct often not reflect our religion's perspective in that regard. Before espousing or rejecting any belief or approach, we must go to our sources and determine the Torah's attitude, rather than reaching conclusions based on societal norms or fads.

[Prepared by David Silverberg]

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