Adonai called Moses. It’s funny how we spend so much of our energy, buying resources, attending meetings, conferences and concerts, practicing rituals, watching videos, listening to music or sermons or lectures, etceteras and so on, trying so get God to hear us or notice us, or feel like we’ve somehow gotten closer to Him. Yet, here Moses is just being Moses and it is Adonai who initiates the conversation. It’s funny how my experiences with God, the most powerful connections in our relationship together, have not been based on the stuff I’ve been doing, really, trying to manipulate Him in my direction. He usually grabs hold of me when my mind is completely on something else. It’s like I walk around the corner, on my way to the bank, and there He is standing right in my path. It’s funny because we think of God as being omnipotent and omniscient. We think of Him in terms of sovereignty and power. Yet, so little do we consider Him understanding that He has free-will to do as He pleases, to go where He wills and to address us in our lives as He determines. We think of Him more like the switchboard operator functions on terms of pre-determined rules with precision: distant and invisible, powerful yet unseen. I’m glad that this is not the God whom I have come to know, whom I’ve met with in the quiet times of my day (not my quiet times of personal devotion); but walking with Him unexpectedly. This isn’t to suggest that times of study and worship and prayer are not essential to our relationship. If it were not for them, when the Most High knocks on my door, I likely wouldn’t even recognize Him. It could just as well be George Burns or Morgan Freeman. Yet, when He speaks to me, then hears my thoughts and prayers in this aside from my day, there is no question as to Who I have met with. I am awed, exhilarated, exhausted, grateful He has let me go but mourning His leaving, curious, heavy, weightless, disoriented but absolutely aware and focused upon what has just occurred. Moses met with God in ways that we likely never could imagine experiencing. God called him up (Vayikra). Yet, we should never be surprised should, along our quiet daily pursuits, He choose to do the same with us. After all, He’s God. He can do what He wants. And He loves you very, very much.

When I worked as a manager, I had a number of employees who answered to me to perform duties as an extension of the decisions that I made. While some of the things I needed people to do were very important (sometimes even a matter of life or death), others were actually very mundane- often to give them something to do so that their shift would go faster and be more interesting for them. I concocted a rule: when I’m asking, I’m asking. When I’m telling, I’m telling. The Hebrew word tzav means to command, not ask, not suggest, not to speak in any ambiguity at all. I’ve had, over the years, a number of people make it clear to me that they don’t appreciate being told what to do. I had one supervisor (who lasted only a short while) who explained to me that he became a supervisor because he didn’t like to be told what to do so he got in a position where he did most the telling (a very confused young man). It is this natural inclination of mankind that stands against our ability to walk in close fellowship with the Most High. We push out our chests and huff at His Torah, "I don’t like anyone telling me what to do." David says this in response: Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me: then shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression. Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD, my strength, and my redeemer. (Psalms 19:13-14 KJV) The word "tzade" (translated presumptuous) is obviously related to the word "tzav". It means arrogance or self-will. It carries the idea of coming out from under authority: to do things my way, to avoid those who have the authority to tell me what to do. When Moses was told by God to command Aaron and his sons, the relationship was clear: "I’m not asking, I’m telling." The manner in which the priests were to perform their function in worship was not a negotiable. It is unfortunate that so many who describe Adonai Tzavaot, The commander of the hosts (those under His command), as their God are so flippant and wayward with respect to His commandments. As we open His Word, His Truth, His Tzavaim, may we hear with obedient hearts, not with the ear to twist the words to our own liking, not with the ear that repels any personal application but to "shammah", to hear obediently, and to live acceptably under His command.

The word Shemini means "eight". This is a good example of the difference between English or Greek and Hebrew. In English or Greek, eight means eight, as in that which comes after seven but before nine. Hebrew is a bit more complex. In Hebrew, seven represents a complete cycle: there are seven days to a complete week. The eighth day represents a new beginning. The word "tish-ah" , which means nine, carries the idea of turning a corner. This presents in the minds of many Jewish scholars that Leviticus chapters 1-8 compose a complete idea. Chapter 9 begins something new, or at least, a new beginning in the continuity of thought. It is this idea of starting over or starting fresh that we seem to get so frustrated with, while Adonai is continually wiping the slate clean and starting over with our lives. The image of the potter at the wheel is so vivid at this. While the on-looker sees him fashion a pot, then collapse it time after time, we think as though his previous efforts were wasted; but each time the vessel becomes more pliable with less impurity, fewer and smaller pockets of air. The experienced potter would never consider "getting it right" on the first try. What fun could that be? The repetitive nature of Torah, the revisiting of similar ideas if often burdensome to the immature. The idea of leaving off something undone, knowing we will be visiting it again is often cumbersome. Yet, there are layers of growth and understanding that we have not yet attained to; and while we, as the pot on the wheel, consider ourselves ready to be fired for use, the Master Potter has a better plan for us, one that we are not yet prepared to invision… so we spin and collapse, and renew , over and over again. Shemini becomes altogether familiar to us. It may be our perspective that causes our grief and frustration. Our sights are on a destination for which we are not prepared. We find ourselves waiting, wandering around familiar paths of this garden of God’s Word. Yet, we arrogantly look over the beauty as trivial and routine. To begin the text with Shemini is to see these places with a sense of newness, of re-beginning, as though it were someplace fascinating we have never before encountered, seeing the same things again for the first time, observing and experiencing new levels of understanding and relationship. There is something yet here that Adonai would have us see. Look closer. Find the newness and the beauty in Shemini. It is there, again, for the first time.

What a strange combination that we should read and discover as we consider the portions of Torah for this week: the conception and destruction of life, presented together here as if though they flow like a single thought. The process of birth is sacred and beautiful to me. I’ve been in the presence of that moment more than a few times. It never changes. It never becomes familiar. I’ve been in the presence of one man as he breathed his last breath. I suppose, in much the same way, I couldn’t imagine it ever being casual or mundane. There is more time, more paper, invested by our Lord in the Torah upon the subject of leprosy than any other single subject. It would seem that our mortality, and our being confronted with it, is instrumental in the cohesive message Adonai is compelled to send us. It’s important that we be reminded, that we be faced with how we come into this world and immediately turn to understand what it means for us to leave it. It’s important to take stock and look into ourselves, peering through the looking-glass of God’s Word. It is anticipated that we won’t find pleasure in the thing that we see- yet somehow understand that God does (find pleasure in us). The process of participating in bringing a new child into the world is joyous but agonizing. By the time my second son was born both my wife and I were on oxygen. The process of leaving this worldly husk is somehow both grueling yet peaceful. Somehow they are the same. Somehow they are both equally and vibrantly a demonstration of God’s love for us. I think the lack of balance between birth and leprosy is that we can easily understand how birthing is a beautiful, while painful experience. The other end is harder for us. We don’t understand. I really, probably, don’t want to understand… we just want it to go away, to be over. If our heart’s desire is to grow closer to understanding the ways of Adonai, it is important to begin to see things the way that He sees things- and the condition of our mortality is very much a part of that.

We don’t like to play games that we have no chance of winning- such is the perspective of those who confuse their conduct with saving grace of Adonai. For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9 KJV) Yet, we don’t like to put any effort into games that are "in the bag." If we know that we are going to win, why break a sweat? Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible. I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air: But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. (1 Corinthians 9:24-27 KJV) The problem that is often understated is that what our faith is selling is not salvation from damnation in Hell (though such is the result of such a rejection of God). The focus of our pursuit is an intimate relationship with our Lord, Father and King. Those who "just want in" have no concept of the God nor of the salvation that is being offered. Those who want in according to their own merit have no consideration of the kind of salvation that is required. Neither consider that our God defines Himself according to His holiness and draws us to Himself according to His own will. These things cannot be reconciled in our human understanding; but must be learned through His Spirit as we walk ever closer to Him according to His Word.

It may be that this is the most central passage to all of the Bible, all found neatly wrapped in this one little word. "Kedoshim" means, "the Holy ones." All the Bible, if summed up in a single idea, defines the possibility of man to stand before God in holiness: to be His Holy ones. It is common in rabbinic interpretation to see the title of each portion as the thesis of the entire portion. You couldn't go wrong with "kedoshim." In the mitzvotim, this statement, "You shall be holy as I am holy," is interpreted that we should conduct ourselves in a manner that is demonstrative of the will and agenda of the Most High: that we are to do all things as His representative, to do as He would, were He found in the same circumstances we find ourselves. The Parasha Kedoshim is profound in that it is possibly more detailed in practicality than any other portion.

The Hebrew word "emor" means to speak or to say. It's a very common word in the biblical text (as you can well imagine); but it's not the only word that is used. The word "davar" is also sometimes translated "speak" or "say". So, what's the difference? The word "emor" focuses upon the person who is to do the speaking. The word "davar" (it means "word") focuses upon what is being spoken. As the title of our portion, this can be quite poignant. It is not only our responsibility to receive the information for ourselves; but also to share with others. It is not just the words that are to be held in honor as God's spoken will; but also the manner in which I choose to use them.

BeHar is "the Mountain", specifically Mount Sinai in the context of Scripture. BeKhutotai are the Statutes of Adonai. We often seek after the "mountain-top" experience with Adonai. A huge multi-million dollar industry has emerged, trying to fill the emotional need to draw close to God. There are quiet retreats in pristine wilderness areas, family centers and week-end getaways, traveling speakers and musical performance groups: all offering a chance at that emotional "high" which we describe as what it means to be drawn into the presence of God. From the Hebrew perspective, this is a bunch of nonsense. It doesn’t matter where you go or who you bring or what quality of performance is available to you- if you don’t bring Adonai with you, you’re not going to really find Him there. Lots of folks are confused by the rush of adrenaline or the emotional elation that they get from a good performance and describe this as having "met with God." They seldom realize that this same state of being may come to them at any other kind of entertainment and is the "sell" offered by most daytime television. Meeting with God is not about personal gratification- it is about being drawn into holiness beyond our comprehension. It is recognizing that He is greater than our comprehension and that we are so very small. Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts. (Isaiah 6:5 KJV) We don’t need to go looking in the Yellow pages nor searching the web to find our "mountain top". That’s not to say that there are not some really good opportunities out there, and a good retreat can be a powerful tool. Yet where you find God is not out under the pine trees. It is in beKhutotai (the statutes of God).

The portion of this week has a continuous theme of ownership. We are commanded to remember in what we do and how act, whose is whose. We are His possession, living on His creation, reaping the rewards of His labor. Sometimes it’s difficult to remember this, as He tarries long in His coming. Sometimes we are inclined to claim ownership for ourselves, thinking all of this is ours. Adonai gave us the Sabbath- not taking from us what is ours but offering to us what is His. So many have argued against this in twisted logic: "You worship on your Sabbath and I worship on mine." But… we’re not talking about my day of rest or your day, we’re talking about His. So many consider their offerings and sacrifices (in whatever form they take) as a declaration of piety and righteousness, offering to God of our substance and the fruits of our labor. Yet, all that we have and possess is really His that was offered to us to enjoy and appreciate and to share with Him and others. The Sabbath year is not about agricultural husbandry. It is about remembering whose is whose. The land is not ours. We are tenants. All of these things that we hold onto so tightly and enjoy so liberally are placed in our possession by Him. The Sabbath remembrance, both weekly and every seven years is bout remembering whose is whose, that we are His workmanship, created for His glory. Now He is a gracious and compassionate King. He doesn’t impoverish us by taking the best and greatest portions of our labor. He simply offers to us an opportunity to rest in Him, remembering Who He is and whose is whose. We spend so much of our time and energies grabbing for ourselves and claiming what is rightfully (or wishfully) ours. That’s the world we live in, and like it or not, we’re very much a part of it. Unfortunately, so many have to cling to the grabbiness: "If I let up for a moment, someone will take it from me." It reminds me of sitting around the table with my children when M&Ms are being served. Don’t we realize that Adonai’s bag has no bottom and that it flows to us continually? If we realized this, how difficult would it be to share, knowing we would never run out? How difficult would it be to lean back and relax, to walk away in confidence, to go next door and offer some to the neighbor, to enjoy what has been given to us. We don’t believe it. And that’s why the Sabbath is such a very difficult concept for us to accept- that we are not giving away what is ours but that we are sharing with Him and with others what is His.