Parshat Vayikra – Humbling the Self Before the Other | Four Types of Sacrifices

Torah: Humbling the Self Before the Other

It’s no secret that this world is becoming more and more polarized. I’ve experienced this in many settings, but perhaps the most difficult is in discourse surrounding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In many of my group interactions both internally and with guests this year in Israel, it’s become clear to me that we no longer know how to have conversations with each other. We’ve forgotten how to afford the other a basic level of respect. There is no baseline assumption that their statements are not intended to cause us harm, but come from a genuine place, even when they may be antithetical to our very existence and values. While there are many strategies for healthy communication, I want to suggest one such strategy from our parasha.

Parshat Vayikra explains, in what at times is excruciating detail, the specifics of the different sacrifices that can be brought to the Mishkan. In one such instruction, it says “Any meal-offering that you offer to Hashem shall not be prepared leavened (chametz)…” (Leviticus 2:11). The Torah here is prohibiting leavened bread from being brought as a sacrifice, instead instructing the Israelites to bring matzah for their meal-offerings. All this talk of matzah and chametz leads us to a big question: What do chametz, matzah, sacrifices, and Passover have in common?

Rabbi Binny Freedman points out that many commentaries compare chametz to the evil inclination. For example, the Rambam compares the rising of dough to the swelling of ego and sexual desires. In the Talmud, Rabbi Alexandri ended his daily prayers with: “Master of the Universe, it is revealed and known before You that our will is to perform Your will, and what prevents us? On the one hand, the yeast in the dough, the evil inclination that is within every person” (Berachot 17a). Rabbi Freedman teaches that every Passover, we gather up all the chametz and destroy it. This does not only have to be a physical process, but can be accompanied by a spiritual seeking out of those forces and attitudes within us that are holding us back and that distance us from the Divine. So what does this have to do with sacrifices?

The bringing of sacrifices (korbanot) is an human act in an attempt l’karev, to come closer, to the Divine. Some sacrifices (see T’fillah section) are brought to atone for sins, while others are brought out of gratitude and praise for Hashem. All of them evoke awe in the one sacrificing, a humbling before the Creator. They would take of their own time and resources (which was even more time consuming after the Temple was built) to find Divine favor.

Imagine now a conversation where, instead of blindly trudging down the path of righteousness, we stopped ourselves in humility to realize that we may not be 100% correct. That there may be a kernel of Truth in what the other person has to say. That even if we wholly disagree, the person before me is made in the image of the Divine, and there’s a basic a level of respect and benefit of the doubt that we should afford them. How different might that look?

May it be your will, Holy Blessing One, that we are able to open our hearts to others and to ourselves, to be challenged and to challenge, with a loving spirit and an open hand.

T’fillah: Four Types of Sacrifice

Previously, I have taught about sacrifice as a Rabbinic model for prayer. Today, I want to go even deeper, by exploring the different types of sacrifices as models for different types of prayers. There are four different types of offerings presented in our parasha: (1) Burnt-offerings, (2) Meal-offerings, (3) Peace-offerings, and (4) Sin-offerings. ArtScroll says the following about each one:

“A burnt-offering may be brought by one who has intentionally committed a sin for which the Torah does not prescribe a punishment, one who failed to perform a positive commandment, one who had sinful thoughts, and by everyone who comes to Jerusalem for the Three Pilgrimage Festivals. Similarly, it may be brought by anyone who wishes to raise their spiritual level.”
“A meal-offering consists of nothing more than flour, oil, and frankincense and is most likely brought by a very poor person. Because he extends himself to bring an offering despite his poverty, it is as if he had given his own soul.”
Peace-offerings are brought voluntarily by a person or a group of people who are moved to express their love of God and their gratitude of His goodness, and to enhance their closeness to Him… Alternatively… its name symbolizes the peace that results when the legitimate needs of all groups are satisfied.”
“Sin-offerings atone for deeds that were committed inadvertently, as a result of carelessness… As Rambam points out… such deeds blemish the soul; for if the sinner had regarded them with the proper gravity, the violations would not have occurred.”

Each of these cases represent different points in our lives. In the first, we intentionally act to come closer to the Divine because we’ve done something to distance ourselves from the Divine. In the second, we may not have long to pray, or might not connect to the words in a given moment, but we still show up with whatever we able to bring to that moment and that relationship. Like the half shekel for the Temple, there are no excuses; Everyone participates. In the third, we seek to come closer to the Divine from a place of gratitude and praise. The fourth is perhaps most akin to the High Holidays, where we beseech forgiveness for all the things we’ve done throughout the year, but also has hints in the daily tachanun prayer, where we also ask for forgiveness.

Which model of prayer could you use today?

Sam Blustin is an alumnus of the Conservative Yeshiva (2014-2015) and a current Rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary (Class of 2020). You can view more divrei Torah at www.samblustin.com or contact Sam directly at samblustin@gmail.com.

Parshat Tzav – What Does It Mean To Be Shalem? | The Eternal Offering

Torah: What Does It Mean To Be Shalem?

One of the sacrifices which the Torah expands upon in our parasha is the zevach shlamim, the peace-offering. It’s particularly interesting here, as it states that the Israelite must bring the sacrifice “with his own hands” (Vayikra 7:30). This is a more active participation in sacrifice; the worshipper actually takes part in it. But what is this peace-offering?

Rabbi David Tzvi Hoffman (19th-20th century, Germany) presents two seemingly conflicting understandings.

“Shlamim is derived from the root meaning ‘peace’ or ‘perfect’ (shalem). It signifies the state of mind of the worshipper who enjoys peace and contentment and recognizes that this has been achieved thanks to his cleaving to God. Or it may be that he seeks to attain such a state of perfection and deliverance, since at present he suffers from despair and longs for God to help him and restore his equilibrium. All this he expresses through the shlamim, seeking his own peace and well-being through cleaving to God.” (Commentary on Leviticus)

On one hand, we bring this peace-offering when we feel whole and content with our lives and want to says thanks, and on the other hand, we bring the peace-offering from a place of pain and a cry to feel unity with the Divine. That we feel both of these emotions at different times is clear, but what happens when we feel both at the same time?

Yossi Klein Halevi illustrates this tension in his bestseller “Like Dreamers: The Story of the Israeli Paratroopers Who Reunited Jerusalem and Divided a Nation.” In the book, he follows the soldiers from a particular paratrooper unit which helped reunite Jerusalem in the Six Day War, showing how the capture of Jerusalem, the West Bank, and Gaza led these fighters in remarkably different directions, some becoming settlers and others radical leftists. The title demonstrates this tension: the longing for the land of Israel and its capital to be reunited with the reluctance to rule over another people.

We see this tension in our Jewish communities at home as well. Look at the coverage of AIPAC versus IfNotNow last week. At least in the narrative that IfNotNow wanted to tell, they pitted themselves, demanding the immediate end to occupation, against AIPAC, the war mongering right wing one state supporting advocacy group who could care less about Palestinians. Despite the fact that that definition of AIPAC is completely unfair to them, my point is important. We are constantly attempting to pit ourselves against each other, painting the other as too radical, outside the bounds of allowable discourse. What we learn from this parasha is that we can actually stand in the middle of this tension; we don’t need to take one side. We can feel delighted in the wholeness of Israel and in the access to previously unavailable historical and religious sites while still taking deep issue with the occupation of a people who we have no interest in ruling over.

So who should be on the inside of our communities? The wholeness-offering teaches us that those who place the desire to come closer to the Divine at the center of their lives live within the bounds of community. On the same issues we may feel whole or broken, or both at the same time. But if we can come to the table together to discuss l’shem shamayim, for the sake of heaven, instead of shouting down and silencing those who we perceive to be at odds with us, then we can truly be echad, whole and at peace. Reb Simcha Bunim, talking about the phrase in Psalm 147,“He who heals the broken-hearted”, taught

“a broken heart is a good thing. And the healing is that he is cleansed from despair, so that the heart remains without any despair… in a state of joy…. One needs a broken heart, but one also needs it complete. One needs both together, brokenness and completeness.” (Ramatayim Zofim, chap. 5)

For Reb Bunim, the brokenness is necessary because it leads us to a process of self-analyzation, a desire to constantly improve the self. But we must also know how to rejoice in who and where we are now. The two are necessary in balance. Ideally, these traits should be balanced inside of the self, but at the very least, on issues of communal significance, these various voices must be present inside of a healthy community. By allowing both voices to balance each other, it prevents us from stagnating, which separates us from the Divine.

Therefore, may it be your will, Master of the Universe, to support us in this brokenness and wholeness, and allow us the humility to create communities who can rejoice and challenge together.

T’fillah: The Eternal Offering

Last week, we revealed the depths of four different types of sacrifices. Parshat Tzav opens up by going into detail regarding one of them: the burnt-offering. As we said, the burnt-offering was to be brought by one seeking to raise their spiritual level, whether by proactive action or to make up for a momentary lapse of recognition of the Divine in daily life. Now, we find out something deeper:

“It is the burnt-offering [that stays] on the flame, on the Altar, all night until the morning, and the fire of the Altar should be kept aflame on it… The fire on the Altar shall be kept burning on it, it shall not be extinguished; and the Kohen shall kindle wood upon it every morning; he shall prepare the burnt-offering upon it… A permanent fire shall remain aflame on the Altar; it shall not be extinguished.” (Vayikra 6:2, 5-6)

Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, in Likkutei Torah (Devarim 78d), explains “that the altar is the heart of the Jew. And corresponding to the two altars of the Sanctuary, the outer and the inner, are the outer and inner levels of the heart, its surface personality and its essential core. The altar on which the continual fire was to be set was the outer one. And for the Jew this means that the fire of his love for God must be outward, open and revealed. It is not a private possession, to be cherished subconsciously. It must show in the face he sets towards the world.”

How do we reveal our love for the Divine in the world? When do we consciously hide that fire? Unintentionally? How can become more conscious of it? What steps can we take to feel more comfortable expressing this fire?

Seder – Our Love of the Land of Israel

“Go and learn what Lavan the Aramean wanted to do to our father Jacob”

When we tell the story of the Exodus on seder night, we don’t actually tell the story from Shemot itself, but rather from Deuteronomy, which begins with the passage “Arami oved avi.” And lest you thought historically this had some tie to sacrifice on Passover, this text actually used to be recited by those bringing first fruits to the Temple on Shavuot. Why then did the sages choose to include this text in our haggadot? Rav Soloveitchik (1903-1993, America) taught:

These verses contain an additional feature that the Haggadah saw as important to highlight, namely, Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel. There is an inextricable link between the Exodus and our coming to the Land. The Exodus was only the prologue or the introduction to our acquisition of the Land.

When we give thanks to God for the Exodus, we must immediately associate it, link it, with the gift of the Land, for this was the ultimate goal of our being brought out of Egypt.

When Jews would come to Jerusalem carrying their first fruits, they would stand before God in the Temple. It was a chance to thank God for the miraculous Redemption and the gift of the Land. Tonight, at the Seder, this paragraph serves the same purpose. The great emphasis may be on the Exodus story, but recognizing our Land as a precious gift is an indispensable and inseparable part of our praise on Passover. (Noraot HaRav, vol. 8, p. 63)

Rav Soloveitchik points out here something fundamental to the seder: We were not just redeemed from Egypt, but we were redeemed from Egypt for the purpose of serving God and settling in the Land of Israel. This linkage teaches us that recognizing and appreciating the gift of our homeland is a necessary and important step in our ultimate redemption, whatever that may look like. We must start from a place of love and appreciation, and the rest will follow from there.

This Pesach, may we be blessed with an open heart and a generosity of spirit, allowing us to recognize the Divine in everyone and everything.

Chag Kasher V’Sameach!

Parshat Acharei Mot-Kedoshim – What Seeds Have You Planted? | The Proper Intention

Torah: What Seeds Have You Planted?

When you shall come into the Land, and you shall plant all types of food trees, you shall regard its fruits as uncircumcised (orlah); for three years they shall be uncircumcised to you, they shall not be eaten. (Vayikra 19:23)

Two years ago, before studying at the Conservative Yeshiva, I spent a week volunteering on a vineyard in the Galilee. Working there was a transformational moment for me; I felt in some small way that I was like one of the early pioneers (albeit in much better living conditions), tilling the land and helping to make my ancestral homeland bloom. I harvested the grapes, painted the new building where the grapes were stored, and took the UTV out on the Israel trail to see the beautiful sites around me. It happened that my visit coincided with Tisha B’av, our day of commemoration for many of the worst tragedies to befall the Jewish people. That afternoon, while still fasting, I got up and went to work on the land. In that moment, I felt the contrast between Jewish helplessness and Jewish power. Here I was, on the saddest day of the Jewish year, living in the Jewish state, working the land to make it blossom!

Unbeknownst to me, I was actually fulfilling the mitzvah of planting fruit trees in the land (and also, incidentally, coming into the Land willingly). On the above verse, the Or HaChayim (1696-1743, Morocco and Jerusalem) taught,

Three mitzvot are enumerated here: 1) To come into the Land [willingly], as Chazal (the Rabbis) say, ‘Anyone can force [others] to ascend to Eretz Yisrael’ (Ketubot 110b). 2) To plant all types of food trees, in order to enhance the Land. 3) To keep the laws of Orlah.

He teaches from our verse that in Eretz Yisrael, it is a mitzvah to plant trees, and not just regular trees, but trees that bear all types of foods. Like our Creator, who in the story of creation planted trees in the Garden and commanded them to sprout fruits according to their kind, we should plant in Eretz Yisrael. Indeed, Vayikra Rabbah (25:3) brings a Midrash teaching us thus.

Yehudah ben Simon began: ‘You shall follow the Lord your God’ (Devarim 13:5). Is it possible for flesh and blood to follow the Holy One Blessed be He… Rather, this means that at the beginning of creation the Holy One Blessed be He engaged in planting first, as it says, ‘The Lord God planted a garden in Eden (Bereshit 2:8). Similarly, when you enter the Land, engage in planting first, as it says, ‘When you shall come into the Land, and you shall plant’ (Vayikra 19:23).

Not only are we commanded to plant, teaches the Midrash, but in the very act of planting we are emulating the Holy Creator. Two years ago, by beginning my year harvesting grapes, I was claiming my stake in the Land and doing my part to manifest the Divine presence in this often troubled land.

As we approach Yom Ha’Atzmaut, Israeli Independence Day, it is important to be grateful for the miracles that occurred and the sacrifices of many thousands who died in creating and sustaining this Jewish state of ours. However, we must also take an active role, planting anew and sowing the seeds for our own vision for what the Jewish state could be.

This Yom Ha’Atzmaut, ask yourself, what seeds have you planted? And may the Holy Blessing One bless us that we may taste of the sweet fruits that we have planted.

T’fillah: The Proper Intention

“When you sacrifice an offering of well-being to the LORD, sacrifice it so that it may be accepted on your behalf” (Vayikra 19:5).

Throughout the Talmud, there is a tension between being commanded to say the prayers and needing the proper kavannah, intention, while saying it. On the one hand, we’re commanded to say the prayers at their proper times. But if we didn’t have the proper intention, do we have to pray again?

One such example is found in Talmud Berakhot 16a (you can find the full text here). The sages are debating the Mishnah, which claims that laborers can recite the Shema while standing on precarious surfaces. The Gemara then asks, can it be true that they didn’t require kavannah, proper intention, to say the Shema? No, they resolve, the workers can only recite it when they are idle from their work, so that they can focus their hearts. Here, the Rabbis define proper intention as refraining from thoughts of physical work and to focus on the words of the prayers themselves.

On the above pasuk, Rashi comments: “From the very outset, you must slaughter the sacrifice with the intent that [it is for the purpose of causing] contentment [to God, as it were,] for your acceptance [by the Divine]. For if you think an invalidating thought regarding it, [says God,] the sacrifice will not gain your acceptance before Me.” According to Rashi, a person must intend that the sacrifice will actually be a sacrifice when it’s killed. You can’t accidentally kill an animal, and then decide you want to offer it. As we’ve established in previous weeks, prayer is based at least in part off of the sacrificial system. So it’s interesting to note that here, in sacrifice, proper intent is necessary for the sacrifice to be accepted; merely offering it is not sufficient.

Just like in sacrifice, prayer too requires proper intent, namely, to block out our mental to-do lists and to focus on the words of the prayer themselves. The Rabbis recognized that this is really tough though, so they restricted the amount of liturgy that we truly need to have full attention for to a minimum. However, the ideal is to be present for as much of our prayer as possible, both with the words of the text and our personal response to them. Start small. You can begin with the first words of the Shema or the first blessing of the Amida, and work your way up from there.

May the words of ours mouths and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing to you, O Lord.