They shall be holy to their God and not profane the name of their God; for they offer the Eternal’s offerings by fire, the food of their God, and so must be holy.
Vayikra 21:6
Is holiness innate? Is it something intrinsic to the people of Israel that makes all its members automatically holy—even when this holiness is not the result of holy deeds, thoughts, or the observance of the mitzvot?
Is a Jewish criminal holy?
Nowhere in the Torah does it say that the Jewish people are holy—only that they should be holy.[1]
In traditional Jewish thought, the Jews are considered holy in a covenantal sense. They are “set apart” or dedicated to a specific Divine purpose, rather than inherently morally perfect. This status stems from the covenant with God, which calls upon them to become a “kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”[2]
This means that they are only holy when they fulfill their mission as a kingdom of priests.
Separation and Engagement
Does this imply that Jews must withdraw from the societies in which they live? Must they avoid contact with people of other religions and nationalities because they need to be “set apart”?
The answer is no.
Israel, in imitating God by being a holy nation, must become an example to humankind. Just as God does not withdraw from the world, so too Israel must radiate a positive influence through every aspect of Jewish living—while still maintaining a distinct identity.[3]
Universal ideas are impersonal. Only within a personal relationship can they become actualized. They must be embodied by a particular people who see in them their mission.
The Jewish mission is grounded in a personal encounter with the living God. This encounter is so powerful that it spills outward into the world.
This mission is not fulfilled by retreating from others, but by engaging with them and, ultimately, transforming reality. It is a great responsibility. And while it is uniquely expressed through the Jewish people, it is not exclusively their providence; any non-Jew may also take part in this mission. Separateness is not exclusivity. It is not at all racist. It is an expression of dedication.[4]
The Danger of “Implied Holiness”
In his famous work Ha’amek Davar, Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin (the Netziv) offers a remarkable comment on the verse cited above. Referring to a passage in Yechezkel (44:19), he notes:
When the priests leave the inner court of the Temple and go out to the people, they must remove their priestly garments and change into ordinary clothing, so as not to “imply holiness” through their attire.[5]
This final phrase is open to interpretation. While not explicitly found in the Torah, many commentators understand it as referring to the future Temple. The Netziv, however, offers a deeper insight:
The priests must not appear holy merely because of their garments. These clothes are meant solely for service in the Temple. Outside of it, the priests are like any other people—and they should look like any other people. If they attempt to appear superior or set apart in daily life, this is not an honor to God but an act of arrogance and conceit.[6]
This does not mean that the priests cease to be priests when they leave the Temple. Their obligations—such as blessing the people and avoiding contact with the dead—remain fully in force.[7]
But it does mean that they must live among the people without projecting superiority, without turning holiness into a form of self-aggrandizement.
Holiness in Public Life
At the same time, the Netziv’s insight also stands in opposition to a slogan common during the days of the Enlightenment: “Be a Jew at home but a man in the street.” It is as if one should be ashamed of one’s Jewish identity in the public domain.
To be holy is not only a private commandment. It is equally a public one. Holiness must be lived in the community, in society, out in the open. Whether among one’s own people or among strangers, one must never be ashamed of one’s Jewishness or of the mission it entails.
And yet, this is far from easy.
Holiness in a Time of War
In our days, the command to “be holy” has become even more challenging.
Israel is engaged in a difficult war against the Iranian regime and its proxies. At stake is not only its own security, but the wellbeing of the entire region and the world beyond. It is once again fighting Amalek, which if unchecked, could bring the whole world to unthinkable devastation.
How do we remain holy when we are forced to kill? How do we uphold the doctrine of “purity of arms”?[8]
We would do well to recall the famous words of former Prime Minister Golda Meir:
We may forgive the Arabs for killing our children. But we will never forgive them for forcing us to kill their children. We do not rejoice in victories. We rejoice when a new kind of cotton is grown and when strawberries bloom in Israel.[9]
This must remain the constant message of Israel’s leadership.
We do not hear it often enough—and that is deeply troubling.
It would be for naught for Israel to win the war, but lose its soul.
Questions to Ponder
- If the Torah commands us to be holy, what does that imply about our current state? Are we ever truly “holy,” or always in the process of becoming?
- What is the difference between being “set apart” and being “superior”? How can one avoid confusing the two?
- Why might the Torah insist that holiness must be lived publicly, not just privately? What are the risks of each approach?
Diving Deeper
The tension between moral aspiration and the harsh realities of war has occupied many Jewish thinkers.
Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein writes:
The question is not whether war can be justified, but how, even when justified, it can be conducted without eroding the moral fabric of the individual and the community.[10]
Similarly, Michael Walzer observes:
Even when we fight just wars, we must fight them justly—and the line between necessity and excess is always perilously thin.[11]
How does Rabbi Cardozo’s concern—that Israel not lose its soul—fit into this broader conversation? Is it possible to institutionalize moral restraint, or must it remain a personal struggle?
Notes
[1] See Vayikra 19:2: “You shall be holy,” not “you are holy.”
[2] Shemot (Exodus) 19:6.
[3] See Rambam, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot De‘ot 1:6–7, on imitatio Dei.
[4] Cf. Tosefta Sanhedrin 13:2; Rambam, Hilkhot Melakhim 8:11 (on the righteous among the nations).
[5] Netziv (R. Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin), Ha’amek Davar, Harchev Davar to Vayikra 21:6. Yechezkel (Ezekiel) 44:19.
[6] Netziv (R. Naftali Tzvi Yehudah Berlin), Ha’amek Davar, Harchev Davar to Vayikra 21:6.
[7] See Bamidbar 6:23; Vayikra 21:1–4.
[8] On “purity of arms” (tohar ha-neshek), see Asa Kasher and Amos Yadlin, “Military Ethics of Fighting Terror,” Journal of Military Ethics 4, no. 1 (2005): 3–32.
[9] Attributed to Golda Meir; widely cited in discussions of Israeli ethics of war.
[10] Aharon Lichtenstein, “The Ideology of Hesder,” in Leaves of Faith, vol. 2 (Jersey City: Ktav, 2004), 26–27.
[11] Michael Walzer, Just and Unjust Wars, 4th ed. (New York: Basic Books, 2006), 34–35.
