Achrei Mot-Kedoshim: Holy is Not Better—Just Different

This week’s double Torah portion, Acharei Mot–Kedoshim, brings us to the heart of the Torah’s vision for a moral and spiritual society. The command comes quickly and without preamble: “You shall be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy” (Leviticus 19:2). But what does it mean to be “holy”? It’s a lofty word, often associated with angels, prophets, or saints—but the Torah places this expectation on all of us.

Let’s start by simplifying the term. Holiness, or kedushah, does not necessarily mean being morally superior or spiritually exalted. At its root, it means separation—something set apart for a special purpose. In Jewish tradition, Shabbat is holy because it is distinct from the other days of the week. The Torah is holy because it is treated differently from other books. So too, when God calls upon us to be holy, it doesn’t mean we are better than others—it means we are called to live with purpose, with intention, and with a heightened awareness of how we move through the world.

The medieval commentator Rashi (11th c., France) explains that this command to be holy is directly connected to the verses that follow, especially those concerning forbidden relationships. According to Rashi, holiness requires boundaries. To be holy means learning to channel our instincts and desires in sacred directions. It’s not about denying human impulses—it’s about elevating them.

Yet holiness is not just about personal discipline. It is also deeply social. The modern scholar Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (z”l) emphasized that holiness must shape our relationships with others. He wrote, “Holiness is not a private virtue. It is expressed in how we treat others: with justice, compassion, and integrity.” Indeed, the portion of Kedoshim contains one of the most famous moral imperatives in all of Torah: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18). Holiness, then, is not confined to the synagogue or the Shabbat table—it is found in the marketplace, in how we speak, and in how we care for the vulnerable.

So how do we maintain holiness—not just as individuals, but as a community? The Torah suggests it takes constant vigilance and collective responsibility. We are told not to gossip, not to place stumbling blocks before the blind (both literal and metaphorical), not to cheat in business, and not to stand idly by while others suffer. These mitzvot remind us that holiness is fragile—it can be undermined by cruelty, indifference, or injustice. But it can also be strengthened—by empathy, fairness, and restraint.

To be holy is to treat our lives as if they matter. To treat our actions as if they carry meaning. To treat others as if they, too, were created in the image of God.

Holiness is not a pedestal—it is a practice. It is not about being better than others—it is about being true to our purpose. This week’s parashah calls us not just to aspire to holiness, but to build a society that reflects it.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rafi Kaiserblueth