Sacred Responsibility in a Time of Crisis:
This week’s Torah portion, Parashat Emor, offers a detailed description of the festivals and sacred times in the Jewish calendar, but it ends with a more troubling episode: the case of the blasphemer, who speaks God’s name in a curse and is punished severely. It’s a stark contrast to the uplifting rhythms of the festival calendar that precede it. Juxtaposed, they seem to ask: how do we hold on to holiness and order when faced with chaos and violation?
The Haftarah from Ezekiel 44:15–31 zooms in on the kohanim, the priests of the future Temple. Ezekiel emphasises a purified priesthood—those who remained faithful during a time of national betrayal. They are called to a higher standard: to teach the people the difference between the sacred and the profane, and to act with integrity in both public ritual and private discipline. It’s a vision of spiritual leadership rooted in moral clarity, even in an age of corruption and confusion.
Together, these texts raise a powerful question: What does it mean to be guardians of holiness in a world that often blurs the lines between right and wrong, sacred and profane, truth and deception?
In both texts, there is a call for clear boundaries: between holy and profane, justice and violence, truth and desecration. The kohanim are not just ceremonial figures; they are moral educators, exemplars of restraint, care, and justice. When they fail in this duty—as many did in Ezekiel’s time—the nation suffers spiritual decay.
In our modern world, we face a crisis not unlike Ezekiel’s. We live in a time when truth is often distorted, when public figures can speak hate, misinformation, or divisive rhetoric with impunity, and when the institutions that should uphold justice sometimes falter. The story of the blasphemer reminds us that language matters. Words can build worlds—or destroy them.
Think of global leaders today who use language to incite violence or deny fundamental human dignity. Consider the rise of communal tensions and political violence in places like India and Pakistan, where religious identity is too often manipulated for power, and where minority groups face increasing persecution. When such blasphemy—defilement of truth, justice, and human worth—goes unchallenged, society becomes brittle, fragile, dangerous.
The Torah’s response is to sanctify time itself. The festivals listed in Leviticus are moments for resetting our moral and spiritual compass—reminders that history has meaning, that freedom (Pesach), justice (Shavuot), reflection (Yom Kippur), and joy (Sukkot) are not just emotions but commandments. We don’t just feel them—we enact them.
In a world spinning with conflict—wars in Ukraine, tensions in South Asia, environmental catastrophe, refugee crises, political extremism—we are asked not to despair but to act. To become, like Ezekiel’s priests, those who “teach My people to distinguish between the holy and the profane” (Ezek. 44:23).
This responsibility is not limited to clergy. Every Jew is called to be a priestly person, a mamlechet kohanim (Exodus 19:6)—a kingdom of priests. That means taking responsibility for our words, standing up against injustice, and choosing to sanctify time by dedicating it to healing, learning, and protest when necessary.
In today’s context, blasphemy may not be someone pronouncing God’s name wrongly—it may be allowing God’s name to be invoked to justify hatred or oppression. When people commit atrocities in God’s name—be it religious extremism, nationalist violence, or oppressive policy—that is the ultimate desecration.
Our calling, like the kohanim of Ezekiel’s vision, is to be countercultural. To hold fast to compassion in the face of cruelty. To protect the dignity of every human being. To celebrate sacred time not as escape from the world, but as preparation to transform it.
Parashat Emor and its Haftarah ask us to embrace a difficult but sacred charge: to uphold holiness in the messiness of the world. This begins with our words, our calendars, our leadership, and our courage to say: this is holy, this is not. In a time of moral uncertainty, let us be those who clarify, who sanctify, and who act.
May we rise to that calling.