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?
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.
