At the recent wedding of my nephew, I remarked to his father, my youngest brother, how I noticed he shed quite a few pounds since the last time I saw him. With admiration I inquired about which "diet" plan he chose to accomplish this feat in a relatively short time. Playing it down, he revealed to me a novel idea he came to on his own: he decided he would only eat when he was truly hungry!
The notion struck me instantly. He was so right! We grab food out of convenience or simply to excite our taste buds. If we only eat when we must, we will easily reconquer our health.
After my amazement at discovering this evident truth, I realized that within it lies our greatest attribute as a Heilige Yid.
We pray three times a day: You are holy, and Your Name is holy, and holy ones praise You every day, forever.
This third blessing of the Amidah, known as Kedusha, follows that of Avos — where we mention our privilege of praying to the G-d of our Patriarchs, and Gevuros — where we acknowledge G-d’s might.
The first two are certainly relevant in the context of prayer, for it is in the merit of our forefathers that we became worthy of G-d’s pledge to them, to utilize His ultimate power to provide for the promises made to them. But how is our assertion of G-d’s unfathomable holiness relevant to prayer?
The famed commentary on Tefillah authored by 14th-century sage, Rabbi David Abudraham, asserts that the "holy ones" who praise You daily are not referring to angels, but to us. We are the holy ones who are told by G-d: You shall be holy — because I am holy, having placed a holy spark of His own kedushah, the tzelem Elokim, in us.
So, in essence, by stating that "holy ones praise You," meaning ourselves, it is essentially reaffirming G-d’s holiness — that our kedushah stems from Him.
But we are still left with the question of how this fact weighs into our prayers.
Sixteen years ago, I wrote the following in the bulletin:
You shall be ‘holy’! Is this within the reach and expectation of everyone?
What is this holiness? Is it a feeling, a status, a state of mind?
We generally connect the concept of kedushah with extraordinary levels of devotion and service — the Temple, the Kohanim, a Sefer Torah — all imbued with special and elevated qualities. How does this relate to every man?
The translation of the word kadosh as "holy" is a misnomer. The Torah uses this word to describe a prostitute as a kedeisha (female) or kadesh (male) designated for immoral purposes! Certainly, this has no connection to holiness!
The commentaries explain that the root k-d-sh is used to describe something designated with a distinctiveness that separates it from its normal use or environment — for better or worse. Something that goes beyond its regular and expected use is described as possessing kedushah. A Kohen has special responsibilities that set him apart from the rest of us. The Temple is a space occupied by the Divine Presence that calls us to act reverently. A Sefer Torah is treated with special regard because of its unique and sacred content. A harlot too is a kedeisha because she is designated for a specific, albeit negative, role that separates her from normative society. Kedushah is a state of being distinct and apart from the norm. Rashi informs us that perushim — being abstemious — is synonymous with kedoshim.
Is that it? Aren’t the qualities we gain from being apart from the norm the real goal? Why emphasize the medium rather than the objective — the elevated status of becoming eminent?
The imperative to be holy is to emulate G-d. The Sifra teaches that lest one think we can be as holy as Him, the Torah adds: "My kedushah is exclusive to Me."
How is it possible to even entertain a notion of being equal to G-d?
The legendary Rosh HaYeshiva of Telshe, Rav Mordechai Gifter, famously taught: the Zohar says "Leis asar panui minei" — there is no space void of His presence. From the most sanctified to the most profane, the Shechinah occupies and fuels all existence. Despite His presence in the lowliest of entities, G-d remains unaffected. That’s the ultimate kedushah — engaging with the material world yet remaining uninfluenced by it. To remain aloof from whatever we are associated with and be defined solely by our relationship with Hashem.
"Yakhol kamoni" — one might think there are no limits to what we engage in, so long as we stay detached. Therefore, the Torah says: "Ki kadosh ani" — only G-d has that ability. We must limit ourselves to the areas the Torah permits.
In any physical activity we engage in, the Torah expects us to act with kedushah — to remain unaffected by the activity. A person can eat with enjoyment yet remain "above" the food, which is reflected in how he eats. If one allows hunger and appetite to govern his eating habits, he loses that detachment — his kedushah. The same applies to sports or leisure — when the activity influences your behavior or emotions inappropriately, you lose the opportunity for kedushah.
Kedushah — separateness, being unaffected — is not just a means; it’s the goal. Our greatness, as beings created in the image of G-d, is in being able to remain uninfluenced.
We must control the medium of physicality and not fall victim to it.
We are expected to be kedoshim — to engage with the world around us, but to stay removed and unaffected. We must maintain our dignity, emotion, and behavior in a way that reflects the neshama — that divine spark that defines every act with the spirit of Hashem and His Torah.
We declare in our prayers that our lives are meant to project kedushah — to mindfully use the physical world without letting it rule us.
This mindset is a prerequisite for purposeful prayer — only someone who can resist worldly temptations can truly know what they need and what to pray for. That’s why kedushah comes right before the blessing of Binah — Insight — where we ask for clarity to implement kedushah in our lives.
Indulging in pleasures mindlessly rarely satisfies. But infusing our bodies and souls with a “Holy Diet” that regulates our intake with purpose is guaranteed to bring lasting contentment.
Happy and holy dieting!
באהבה,
צבי יהודה טייכמאן
