Parashat VaYikra, Leviticus 1:1-5:26

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In today's day and age, should some mitzvot not be done?

Study with Baruch Sienna

This week we begin the book of VaYikra, (God called), titled Leviticus in English as it mostly revolves around the sacrificial cult of the Levites. Most of the initial chapters of this parasha describe the offerings in graphic detail: the kidneys, the liver, the entrails, as well as the grain and oil and frankincense.

Many modern readers (and especially us vegetarians) are a little uncomfortable with the book of Leviticus. But it is not only because of the blood dashed upon the altar. We understand 'sacrifice' as a relatively negative term, where you give something up for a later or more worthwhile cause (as in a sacrifice play in baseball, where one player is 'out' so another can make the homerun. When parents 'sacrifice' for the children, it means they do without so that their children can have a better life. In contrast, the Hebrew word, korban, does not carry this meaning at all. It comes from the root karov, which means close. The korbanot were seen as a vehicle to feel close to God. The purpose of the sacrifices was to participate in worship, effect atonement, and offer thanksgiving. So part of our discomfort is a 'disconnect' with the concept of 'sacrifice' altogether.

From the first chapters of Leviticus we learn that one of the main purpose of the sacrifices was to atone for sin. Here is another concept we struggle with. The word for sin in English automatically carries with it the (Christian) association of 'Original Sin' (not a doctrine in Judaism). The general word in Judaism for transgressions is aveirah- the opposite of a mitzvah. A mitzvah is something you are supposed to do (or not do). An aveirah is when you do the opposite. In Judaism, sin refers to behaviour, not to an immoral state of being. The most serious sin is pesha: you know the act is wrong, (and you might not even feel like doing it) but you do it to rebel and defy God. I see this as 'sticking it to the Man.' Then there is avon. Avon refers to an act you know is wrong, but you do it because you have an uncontrollable desire or lust for the forbidden item (sex and lobster come to mind here). Finally there is the all-purpose, everyday, run-of-the-mill sin, cheit. Compared to the other two, cheit is pretty mild. In Hebrew, cheit is a technical term taken from archery when you miss the bull's eye. In Judaism this kind of 'sin' means (literally) 'missing the mark.' When you sinned, you've missed an opportunity; you could do better. A cheit is when you were at least trying to do the right thing, or trying to not do the wrong thing, but didn't quite make it.

Unlike the first two, cheit is a sin that could be done without knowing. This is the subject of our verse (Lev. 5:17). Even though the person didn't know it at the time, there is still a punishment for their misdeed. Atonement still needs to be made. Clearly the pshat, or intended meaning of the highlighted verse is talking about inadvertent sinning - doing something by mistake. The text continues that the priest makes atonement for the sin that was committed unwittingly. Only after the person "did something not to be done" they realized their sin, and they must offer a sacrifice.

Because, of course, sacrifices are no longer offered, (unlike sin, which sad to say, is still with us), all this talk about korbanot is somewhat hypothetical and abstract. Rabbi Elyse Goldstein is fond of telling the story of staying with an Amish family (many years ago) as part of an undergraduate sociology paper on the role of women in old world religions. The family was very hospitable, but clearly agitated at her arrival. They were very interested in learning about this new person's traditions, but were concerned (and with nervous glances at their own farm animals), 'Where exactly was she planning on doing those sacrifices.' Obviously they had never met a 'Jew' before, and their only exposure to 'Judaism' was the Bible. They didn't know that liberal Jews have excised the descriptions of sacrifices from the liturgy. The Conservative liturgy, retains the language of the Musaf prayers, but subtly changes it to read: "the sacrifices our ancestors offered" and instead turns the prayer into a prayer for the return of Jews to their land and the restoration of worship of God, "with love and reverence as in days of old" (instead of with goats and sheep). For most Jews, the only reminder of actual sacrifices is zro'a, the charred bone (in our family's case, the vegetarian substitute: a roasted beet) on the seder plate that represents the paschal lamb, whose blood was smeared on the doorpost. The Passover Seder is a ritual-filled evening, yet unlike the Samaritans (who still barbecue an entire lamb on Passover), we no longer have lamb on the menu. Jews no longer practice a Judaism, that requires sacrifice.


That we no longer offer sacrifices is hardly an earth-shattering revelation. Should we believe/pray for the restoration of sacrifices is a more interesting question. (Not all rabbis believed that the sacrifices would in fact be restored, even in the Messianic era and when the Temple was rebuilt.) Even more challenging is imagining a ritual practice that is no longer practiced or relevant. What would happen if Judaism still required sacrifices? Luckily (is that sacrilegious to say?), we don't actually do them anymore, and they remain on the printed page (of Leviticus) where (for liberal readers) they can be metaphors. Orthodox prayerbooks still retain prayers for the restoration of the Temple and the sacrifices, and I would guess that many in the Orthodox world do not read the prayer as metaphor, although some modern Orthodox might imagine the Temple restored but prayer being radically different from the Temple worship of two thousand years ago. But metaphor or not, we don't consider often enough just how the destruction of the Second Temple, by wiping out the sacrificial cult, forced Judaism to radically evolve. Like it or not, our Judaism of today is not the Judaism of a thousand years ago, or even a hundred years ago, (regardless of what movement you belong to- witness the now in vogue 'bat mitzvah' celebrations at Orthodox synagogues!).

Recently the Conservative movement made the news with the historic announcement that it would accept gay and lesbian Jews into its Rabbinical school, and allow same-sex commitment ceremonies. I don't want to talk about this specific issue right now -- (I promise I'll tackle it in a future week) -- but rather the (inevitable) reaction of the rest of the Jewish world. The Reform and Reconstructionist movements said "What took you so long" and the Orthodox (and not a few Conservative Jews) said "This is the end of Judaism for the Conservative movement." In other words, this bold break with tradition was seen (predictably) to be the 'last straw,' just like each time the Reform movement broke with tradition with its pronouncements: declaring the dietary laws as not binding, its first woman rabbi, or patrilineal descent. Of course, Judaism is not infinitely flexible. Almost two thousand years ago, the Jewish followers of a charismatic teacher named Jesus, started to make changes in Jewish ritual and Jewish belief, and today we call their descendants Christians.

But in our case, abolishing the sacrifices did not mean the end of Judaism, and in fact, the 'Judaism' that would have evolved had we continued with sacrifices would probably be unrecognizeable to today's Judaism (and Jews). The creativity of the Rabbis allowed them to annul the prohibitions of the seventh year (Hillel's prosbul), and declared that the laws of stoning the rebellious son were never enforced. Retaining ritual and staying connected to our past is generally a good thing. And finding meaning in ritual is easy enough. But while some mitzvot seem to not have expiry dates, are some, like sacrifices, temporary or limited to specific times and places?

We began with our verse that talks about the sin (cheit) of doing something that we shouldn't. The chasidic rabbi, Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, turns this verse on its head by (mis)reading the verse as: "one of Adonai's commandments which should not be done." For him this suggests that sometimes if one is going to perform a mitzvah in an improper way, better not to do it at all. I am sure that many would disagree with that. But for me, his reading hints at the even more challenging and provocative notion, that perhaps there may be some mitzvot, that in today's day and age, should not be done altogether.

 

Shabbat Shalom

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