Summary:
This week we begin a new book of Torah, a book which will focus primarily on the sacrificial cult in the Temple. In our portion, God instructs Moses on the five different kinds of sacrifices that were to be offered in the sanctuary:
1. The olah or "burnt offering" was a voluntary sacrifice that had a high degree of sanctity and was regarded as the "standard" offering. The entire animal, except for its hide, was burned on the altar.
2. The minchah or "meal offering" was a sacrifice made of flour, oil, salt, and frankincense that was partly burned on the altar and partly given to the priests to eat.
3. The zevach sh'lamim or "sacrifice of well-being" was a voluntary animal offering from one's herd, sometimes brought to fulfill a vow.
4. The chatat or "sin offering" was an obligatory sacrifice that was offered to expiate unintentional sins. This offering differs from the others in the special treatment of the blood of the animal.
5. The asham or "penalty offering" was an obligatory sacrifice of a ram that was required chiefly of one who had misappropriated property.
Lessons:
When teachers get together, they love to tell stories about the favorite excuse students have given them. “The dog ate my homework.” “My alarm never went off.” “Traffic was terrible.” “My computer crashed.” “No one told me.”
We use these excuses for a variety of reasons. OK - sometimes these excuses are true, but they rarely tell the whole story. It's somehow easier for us to talk about our failures when we place the control outside ourselves, as if in some way, it’s not really our fault. You can’t really blame me, when it really was my dog, my alarm, the traffic, my computer, or best of all – everyone else. It’s always easier to blame something or someone else. We don’t like to be in the wrong. It’s uncomfortable.
This week we begin reading, Leviticus - most people’s least favorite book of the Torah! Why? Take a look in this week’s parsha, we see a litany of sacrifices: the עולה olah - burnt offering, the מנחה mincha - meal offering, the שלמים sh’lamim – well-being offering, the חטאת chatat – purification offering, and the אשם asham – reparation offering. Lots of sacrifices – lots of blood and gore – all for things we’ve done wrong!
We’re not the only Jews in our history who have been uncomfortable with all these sacrifices! The prophet Isaiah writes:
“Why are you giving all of your sacrifices to me?” says Adonai; “I am fed up - have had my fill of the burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fatlings; and I have no desire for the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of male goats.”
Isaiah tells us that what God really wants from us is that we should:
“Cease to do evil; Learn to do good; pursue judgment, strengthen the oppressed, uphold the rights of the orphan, plead for the cause of the widow.”
Thousands of years later there are lessons for us to learn from Vayikra – from the sacrifices of Leviticus. First – we can thank God that our forebears took Isaiah’s words to heart. Rather than focusing on blood and gore and pursuing a Judaism of animal sacrifice, they heard Isaiah’s words and focused instead on humanity and pursuing a Judaism of justice.
However, from the sacrifices themselves there is an important lesson to be learned. Leviticus, with its animal sacrifices, gives the Israelites in their own time a toolkit with which they can repair the universe, the sanctuary, and themselves. By providing a way to fix when people have erred. Leviticus tells us that we have control over our lives and our world, that we can fix what we’ve done wrong.
There are no demons to blame for things that go wrong. Leviticus doesn’t focus on excuses. It doesn’t allow ancient Jews to say “the cow ate my sacrifice; my donkey was in the repair shop!” Leviticus doesn’t focus on the reason for the sin. Instead, the emphasis is on the response, the way in which we overcome our errors.
What a challenge to our modern modes of thinking: always seeking out someone or something to blame. Leviticus teaches us: when we mess up, we don’t prepare excuses. We own up to our wrongs and work to repair them. It takes character and moral fortitude to own our actions: to be honest about our actions with other people and, moreover, to be honest with ourselves. Being Jewish means not making excuses. This is how Leviticus challenges each of us.
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Donald Goor