Parashat Vayikra, Leviticus 1:1-5:26

This week's parsha sponsored in loving memory of Alan Newman by Joi Guttman-Young.

Our ancestors were stuck with an instruction book for obsolete tools.

On a foggy New England morning in January 1909, the RMS Republic collided with the SS Florida. As would happen on such tragic occasions in the future, the Republic sent out a distress call by wireless transmission: CDQ. This was the message that the Marconi International Marine Communication Company had put into effect five years previously, in 1904. Interestingly, just one year later, the German government adopted a distress sign more familiar to us, SOS, which would become the international standard six months before the Republic's transmission.

Confused? Full speed ahead to April 14, 1912, where in the darkness of night the RMS Titanic hits an iceberg. Sitting at the radio was Jack Phillips, who began to send out the distress signal used by British ships: CDQ. His junior operator suggested he use the newer "SOS," joking that this might be his only opportunity to use the new signal, and so Phillips alternated between the two.

Both the CDQ and SOS distress calls were received in New York City at a wireless office in the Wanamaker Department Store. Over the next few days, this small office would receive numerous bits of information in Morse Code, detailing casualty lists and other information about the doomed Titanic.

For most of the twentieth century, Morse Code was the fastest way to convey information, especially for those at sea. All this came to an end in 1999. Satellites, radio, and GPS made the system obsolete and it was replaced by the Global Maritime Distress Safety System. That's not to say that Morse Code is dead. It is still popular with ham radio operators and, in fact, a new sign was added in 2004 to represent @, so radio operators could exchange email addresses in Morse Code.

From our modern vantage point, it is hard to believe that Morse Code was at one time not only revolutionary but a necessity that could literally spell the difference between life and death. While it was available to all, in reality it was used by a few who acted as intermediaries between the sender and receiver. These intermediaries were trained in the correct language and procedure. They knew the code and the accompanying ritual.

This week we begin to read Vayikra (Leviticus), which—for the most part—is a code book we no longer understand. This central book of the Torah gives detailed instructions regarding the sacrificial cult, the proper occasions for the various sacrifices, and the correct rituals for cutting and dividing the animal, for wave offeringsand the sprinkling of blood in particular rites. This was essential information for our ancestors; it was a form of direct communication between them and God.

When any of you presents an offering of cattle to the Lord, he shall choose his offering from the herd or from the flock.
If his offering is a burnt offering from the herd, he shall make his offering a male without blemish. He shall bring it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, for acceptance in his behalf before the Lord. He shall lay his hand upon the head of the burnt offering, that it may be acceptable in his behalf, in expiation for him. The bull shall be slaughtered before the Lord; and Aaron's sons, the priests, shall offer the blood, dashing the blood against all sides of the altar which is at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. The burnt offering shall be flayed and cut up into sections. The sons of Aaron the priest shall put fire on the altar and lay out wood upon the fire; and Aaron's sons, the priests, shall lay out the sections, with the head and the suet, on the wood that is on the fire upon the altar. Its entrails and legs shall be washed with water, and the priest shall turn the whole into smoke on the altar as a burnt offering, an offering by fire of pleasing odor to the Lord.

Leviticus 1:2-9

Well, that was great as long as the sacrificial system was the mode de jour for getting God's attention. That line of communication was cut when the Second Temple fell. Our ancestors were stuck with an instruction book for obsolete tools. So what did they do? They reinterpreted. Nechama Leibowitz has a wonderful study comparing how some of the medieval heavyweights viewed Vayikra.

In one corner is the great 12th century philosopher Maimonides (Rambam) who saw the sacrificial system as being a transitional method of communicating with God. According to Rambam, this system was actually more restrictive than the sacrificial cults of the cultures that surrounded our ancestors. The long-term plan was to eliminate sacrifices all together. The sacrificial system was a weaning away from one mode of relating to God to a more mature mode.

Not so according to Nachmanides (Ramban), the heavyweight champion of 13th century Spain. The sacrificial system concretized abstract concepts. You placed your hands on the animal and transferred your sin.

Seeing that human conduct is expressed in thought, speech and action, God instituted that a person who has committed a transgression and offers a sacrifice, shall place his hands on it—symbolizing the deed, make a confession—as a reminder of the misused power of speech, and burn with fire the bowels and kidneys—which are the organs of thought and lust, and the legs—symbol of the human hands and feet, instruments which serve man in all his activities. And the blood shall be sprinkled on the altar—representing his life-blood. All this should make him realize that having sinned against God with his body and soul, he would deserve to have his blood spilled and his body burned. However, God in his infinite mercy, accepts this substitute for an atonement, and its blood in lieu of his, its main organs in place of his, the portions (of the sacrifice eaten by the priests) so as to sustain the teachers of the Torah that they may pray for him. Accordingly, the daily sacrifice is offered up because of the masses who are constantly caught up in the web of sin.

Nachmanides on Lev 1:9, translation in Nechama Leibowitz, 

New Studies in Vayikra, vol. 1, pp. 8-9

Think of the emotional effect of this ritual if you were able to so today. You would truly be removing a burden! What's more, Ramban believed that there was also a mystical aspect to the sacrifices, which is beyond the understanding of most of us.

Fast forward to our time: For the modern liberal reader Vayikra has gone the way of Morse Code. We know about it, although we never really understand it. For some it is quaint, for others somewhat embarrassing. There are many in the liberal denominations who devote little time to the early parts of Vayikra, because we cannot "relate" to this book. Rather, they focus on chapter 19, the Holiness code, or on chapter 23, which gives us the Jewish calendar, or on the end of the book, which discusses the land of Israel.

But the beginning of Leviticus is just as holy as the end, despite the fact that we no longer bring offerings to God nor look forward to the restoration of the sacrificial system. Our challenge is to find new meaning in the text, so it will resonate with us today. We must grapple with Vayikra, bringing it from the days of Jewish Morse Code to the Jewish internet age. It may no longer serve its original purpose, but we can find meaning in it that our ancestors could not have imagined. It is an ancient tool that can be used to express modern thoughts, just as Morse Code can be used to communicate email addresses.

This is not something new to us. In less than two weeks we will be observing Pesach (Passover). Interested in the Paschal sacrifice? You'd have to go to a Samaritan Pesach to see that. The central feature of the ancient Pesach observance was reinterpreted in Judaism long ago. A symbol of the sacrifice remains on the Seder plate and mention is made of it in the Haggadah, there is no lamb in the backyard that will end up on the holiday table. Changes in circumstance necessitated changes in approach and observance.

If we manage to read the Haggadah, why do we tend to struggle our way through Vayikra? Our first step is to accept the fact that Leviticus is unlike any other book of the Torah and must be approached with a different mindset. The very word for sacrifice, korban, comes from the root k-r-b, to bring close. The book of Exodus ends with the construction of the Tabernacle, which is meant to bring God into our midst. Leviticus begins with sacrifices, a way of drawing us closer to God; it is a guidebook for drawing near to God. What is the approach we need to have in reading this book?

If we say that Genesis and most of Exodus create a cascading river of narrative, then Leviticus is a still deep pool. Here, as at the end of Exodus, the Israelites remain camped in the Sinai wilderness, where they worked together to construct a portable sanctuary ( "Tabernacle" or "Tent of Meeting"). Nearly all of Leviticus presents itself as taking place at that sanctuary—where God spoke to Moses, giving instructions to be conveyed to the people of Israel.

The Torah: A Modern Commentary, revised edition, W. Gunther Plaut, p. 658

As we proceed through the book of Leviticus, forget about diving into the text, sit on the water's edge and contemplate the ripples.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel