Torah and Tea – Emor 5785
Let’s learn together for the portion of Emor—“say.” While it’s not the very first word, it’s the key word in the second verse, where Hashem tells Moshe, emor—say. But what is the Torah talking about here? The portion discusses specific laws that apply to the Kohanim—the priests—who have special rules. That’s the main subject of this parsha.
The Rebbe always emphasizes that a name is very significant. This is true for people and for Torah portions. Your name represents your soul, your unique channels to connect with Hashem and the world. A name is the way Hashem connects with that soul. Now, you might ask, if Hashem doesn’t give the name, but the parents do, how do the parents know what name to give? The answer is that parents have a kind of prophecy when naming a child. They may think they’re naming after a grandparent or just because they like the name, but behind their reasoning is a deep, inner connection to that person’s soul, the letters, the shape, the meaning, the gematria—the numerical value. The Alter Rebbe writes in Tanya that the name of everything in the world, whether it’s shamayim—the heavens, or the earth, every letter and every name is meaningful. The Rebbe says the name of a parsha is also very significant.
Some people might say, “It’s just called that because it happens to be the first word,” but the Rebbe disagrees. If you have a book, the name gives you a sense of what the book is about. You wouldn’t call a book about health “Geometry.” The name usually describes the content. The same is true for a Torah portion. Who exactly named the parshas and how is less important than the fact that this is how we traditionally refer to them. If someone asks you, “What’s the name of this week’s parsha?” you’ll answer, “Emor.” Not “Emor el hakohanim—say to the priests,” just Emor—say.
What does Emor mean? It’s an affirmative, a command: “Say!” In our context, Hashem is telling Moshe to say something to the Kohanim, but the parsha isn’t called “Say to the Kohanim,” just “Say.” There’s a lesson here. In this sicha—talk, the Rebbe isn’t focusing on how the name connects to the content, but rather, what lesson we can learn from the name itself: “Say.” What should we say? Why should we say it? The Rebbe says we need to learn something from this week’s parsha about the power of speech.
At first, you might think this is about speaking words of Torah. We know the verse, vedibarta bam—“You shall speak of them.” Maybe it means to say holy things, blessings, prayers, Torah, mitzvahs, good things. But those are explicit in the Torah; we don’t need the parsha’s name to tell us that. This is about something deeper.
The Rebbe discusses this at length. Generally, when we talk about speech, we think of what the Chafetz Chaim emphasized: what not to say. Don’t speak negatively, don’t speak lashon hara—negative speech. These are clear mitzvahs. But the Rebbe wants us to learn something more about speech. The Medrash on Emor says that Hashem’s speech is everlasting and creative. How did Hashem create the world? With ten sayings: Vayomer Hashem—God said. Creation happened through speech.
Today, we have technology like Alexa and other devices. You don’t even need to flip a switch; you just say, “Turn on the lights,” and it happens. It’s almost like God’s speech—you say something and it’s done. There’s even technology for people who can’t speak, where brain signals can control devices. Imagine, you just think about turning on the light, and it goes on. I wonder what the halachic implications would be for Shabbos! But the point is, Hashem’s speech creates reality.
The Medrash says that when Hashem says something, it happens. Nobody can stop Hashem’s word. But with human beings, even a king can say something and then change his mind. Our words don’t create reality the way Hashem’s do. Still, our speech has power.
The Medrash also says that sometimes, when people speak negatively, it brings out negativity. Moshe Rabbeinu wondered why the Jewish people suffered, but when he heard them speaking lashon hara, he understood. Sometimes, speech can ruin things for someone.
The Rebbe brings an interesting idea about the power of speech. Let’s look at the negative side first. The Talmud says that one who speaks lashon hara hurts three people: the one who speaks, the one who listens, and the one spoken about. Lashon hara isn’t making up lies—that’s motzi shem ra—giving someone a bad name with falsehood. Lashon hara is saying something negative even if it’s true. The Gemara says it damages all three parties.
But why does the person spoken about get hurt? He didn’t do anything in this conversation. One explanation is that it’s like a classroom: if a child misbehaves and nobody notices, the teacher might ignore it. But if other kids point it out, the teacher is forced to act. Similarly, when someone sins but nobody talks about it, it’s between him and Hashem, and Hashem may choose to overlook it. But when others speak about his negativity, they bring it to the forefront, almost forcing Hashem’s hand to respond. So, the person spoken about is harmed because his negativity is now out in the open.
But it works the other way, too. If you want to encourage someone to do mitzvahs, keep Shabbos, or study Torah, how do you address their negative behavior? You could confront them directly, but that often leads to defensiveness or insult. The Torah way is to help someone become better by pointing out their good qualities, praising them, and giving them self-confidence. Instead of focusing on their faults, give them positive reinforcement. Compliment them when they do something good, make them feel valued, and they’ll want to live up to that praise.
The Talmud tells a story about the grandson of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. He wasn’t interested in learning or following the right path. The rabbis tried to help him, and eventually, they told him, “We’re going to call you Rabbi, give you smicha—rabbinic ordination, and honor you.” Normally, you earn smicha after studying and behaving well, but they reversed the order to encourage him. In the end, because they were positive and gave him honor, he became a great scholar. Their encouragement turned him around.
The Rebbe says that just as speaking negatively brings out negativity, speaking positively brings out the good. When you praise someone, you make Hashem look at them favorably, because you’re revealing their goodness. When I first became a rabbi in Sharon, I had to do a funeral for someone who wasn’t particularly righteous. I asked my brother-in-law, an experienced rabbi, what to say. He told me, “Every person has something good. Just find the positive and speak about it.” As I grew in the job, I realized that pointing out the good isn’t lying—it’s helping people become better. Your words can make a real difference, just like Hashem’s speech creates reality.
Emor—the name of the parsha—teaches us to find and speak about the good in others, especially when we’re tempted to rebuke or condemn. The Rambam says that a Talmid Chacham—a Torah scholar—should speak gently. For everyone, but especially for a scholar, the way to help is by bringing out their good qualities, not by focusing on their faults.
In the past, rabbis might have rebuked people harshly to bring them closer to Yiddishkeit. But today, especially with Chabad and outreach, we realize that every Jew is a child of Hashem and deserves to be reached out to positively. We don’t compromise on halacha, but we find ways to include and uplift. If someone isn’t keeping Shabbos, we don’t reject them; we show them their value, their soul, and how meaningful even one mitzvah is. The Baal Shem Tov says Hashem loves every Jew more than a parent loves an only child born in old age. Tell people how important their mitzvahs are, how much Hashem loves them. Speak the good, and you’ll help them turn around.
The Rebbe says even more: if you help someone with their financial or physical needs, if you are positive with them, you bring out their best. My son Levi Yitzchak’s strength was loving people and giving them a good feeling about themselves. He didn’t focus on their shortcomings; he told everyone how great they were. His motto was to speak from the heart, and people can tell when you mean it. That’s what brings people in and inspires them to put on tefillin, keep Shabbos, and do mitzvahs. Hundreds of people were impacted by his gentle, kind words. He didn’t have any power except his mouth—speaking kindness and being gentle. That’s how you achieve success: by saying positive things. That’s Emor.
It’s not just about saying; it’s about feeling that way about others. Don’t just give a sales pitch—really believe in the greatness of every Jew. If you truly love them and see their greatness, your words will have even more impact. Sometimes, words can accomplish what hands and feet cannot. Gentle, kind speech brings out the hidden greatness in others, making it visible to all, and inspiring them to do great things. That’s the power of speech, and the lesson is to always use speech positively, never negatively. To do that, we must train our minds to see others in a positive light. If you look at others kindly, you’ll speak kindly, and you’ll help them and yourself become better people. This positivity snowballs, affecting children, grandchildren, and the world, offsetting negativity and making the world a better place. That’s the message of the parsha.
There’s another point in the second sicha. It talks about people who are ready to give up everything for the love of Hashem. We say it every morning in the Shema: “Love Hashem with all your heart, soul, and being.” What does it mean to love Hashem with all your soul? Even if it means giving up your life. We learn from this portion that sometimes you must give up your life for Hashem. Throughout history, there have been Jewish martyrs. The Rebbe points out that sometimes a martyr sanctifies Hashem’s name by being ready to die for Him, reaching the level of venikdashti—sanctification. But sometimes, Hashem does a miracle and saves the person, like with Hanania, Mishael, and Azarya, who were saved from Nebuchadnezzar. That brings an additional sanctification, because not only were they ready to give up their lives, but Hashem saved them as a reward. The Rebbe discusses the difference between these approaches, but that’s for another time.
May Hashem help us sanctify His name not by giving up our lives, but by speaking positively—tying these two ideas together. If we speak and act kindly, what do others say? This is the kiddush Hashem—sanctification of Hashem’s name—that Levi made in his lifetime. He made Hashem’s name beloved by so many because he showed that being part of Yiddishkeit is beautiful. When Jews fight and curse each other, that’s a desecration. But when we reach out with kindness, that’s venikdashti—sanctifying Hashem’s name. People see the beauty and want to be part of it. That’s the idea of kiddush Hashem.
Until next week, may we all use our speech to bring out the good in others and sanctify Hashem’s name in the world.