Vayikra 5
Nisan 5767 / March 24, 2007
I don’t know how
many of you rushed out to see Mel Gibson’s movie “Apocalypto.”
In my book it had many a strike against, not the least of which it was produced
by Mr. Gibson. But beyond that it was yet another movie in an obscure language.
(I confess that I have often enjoyed foreign films, even if it means reading
the subtitles, preferring, however, foreign films where I know a little of the
language.) But most importantly, the
biggest strike against it was all of the gore. I am not a big fan of gore. And
the movie was filled with violence. Countless people are killed and some are
sacrificed alive, with their hearts ripped out. Yuk. From the perspective of
the early 21st century, we can readily adopt a holier than thou
attitude and decry such worship.
If we frame the
descriptions of Leviticus against the savagery and brutality of Mayan practice,
clearly Leviticus comes out ahead. But, I suspect most of us are not eager to
re-establish the
And yet, let me
briefly suggest that if we just go “ugh” and shrug our shoulders as we read
through the descriptions of the sacrificial order—and the Biblical descriptions
are tame compared to what the rabbinic expansions of the text offer, blood
being dashed nearly everywhere--, then we will have missed out on some enduring
lessons.
First, if you paid
attention to the core of this morning’s reading, about the Asham,
the sacrifice offered for a transgression that only comes to light later, you
will have seen that there is a sliding scale. The reading begins by stating
that the one who has sinned brings a female from the flock, a sheep or goat.
But then it continues by stating: “But if his means do not suffice for a sheep,
he shall bring to the Lord, as his penalty for that of which he is guilty,
turtledoves or two pigeons…” And if even that modest animal offering is beyond
his means, he can bring a grain offering. And what is true about this
sacrifice, is essentially true about all of the obligatory sacrifices: there is
a sliding scale. Participation in the rites and rituals of the cult are not
restricted to those with deep pockets. The perpetual challenge of the Jewish
community is to be able to maintain our institutions—and institutions require
funding, just as the ancient Temple did--, and at the same time to be open and
welcoming to all, regardless of their financial status; that everyone can
participate. And I happen to know that this congregation makes a major effort
to be fiscally accommodating. Beth-El is certainly trying to live up the
Biblical ideal.
Second. In the
section we began with it, which speaks of the Chatat
of the sin offering, you will see that, here, too, there is a sliding scale of
participation. But if you had glanced back a few verses, you will have
discovered that there are sections that single out officials of the community.
It begins with the Kohen Gadol,
with the High Priest, continues with the elders and then the chieftans and finally reaches the level of the larger
community. There is a sense here that those in charge of the community can’t
just shrug their shoulders and say, “Sure, mistakes were made; get over it;
let’s not look back, but let’s go forward.”
Rather, it posits that leaders, at all levels must all acknowledge their
shortcomings and furthermore make real atonement. The perks of office do not
grant the office-holder immunity. And indeed, as we have seen recently in
And finally, though
by no means the only lesson to be drawn from this ancient system,
is the idea encapsulated at the very end of this morning’s Torah reading,
namely that fraud and other crimes which we might label today as white-collar crimes
also require atonement. It entails more than coping a plea. The guilty party
who has defrauded, be it the sanctuary or an individual, has to do more than
make restitution. He/she must do so at $1.25 on the dollar. And only having
made the restitution with the built-in-25% fine, can one finalize atonement
through the act of offering up a sacrifice. I’m not sure what would be the
equivalent today for all the individuals in public service who have defrauded
their communities. Indeed, this kind of fraud seems like an epidemic. Scarcely
a day doesn’t go by without reading about some administrator or public official
who has embezzled tens of thousands, if not millions of dollars. Restitution
never seems to be complete; few of them are penitent or contrite; and the time
they spend in jail seems little compared to the damage they have inflicted not
only misappropriating communal funds which were destined for worthy ends, but
also by having destroyed trust in their office. For example, in the wake of the
scandal in Roslyn, administrators and members of the Board of Education across
the
There was an
ancient Jewish tradition that children began the study of Torah not with
Genesis and the story of creation, but rather with the Book of Leviticus, for
it was argued that innocent and holy children should begin their studies with
the rites that were deemed to keep a people holy. Viewed with these spectacles,
with this vision that saw in these admittedly primitive forms of worship, a
vision of consecrated lives, we can begin to understand the import of these
texts centuries later. These are not mere refinements of the savagery of the
ancient Mayans, but the beginnings of a formulation of a system of ethical
norms that should resonate even now for all of us.
Shabbat shalom.