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Friday March 23, 2007

Sometimes we have to sacrifice to show our true commitment

by rabbi lavey derby



Vayikra
Leviticus 1:1-5:26
Isaiah 43:21-44:23


The Book of Leviticus is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. The third of the Torah’s five books, it is the center, the very heart of the Torah. It is in Leviticus that we learn, in Chapter 19, to “love our neighbor as ourselves” and not to “hate our brother in our hearts.” In fact, chapter 19 of Leviticus, known as “The Holiness Code,” contains among the most sublime religious, spiritual and ethical teachings in the entirety of Torah, including injunctions regarding social justice and interpersonal integrity.

At the same time, Leviticus is replete with a comprehensive description of the sacrificial cult, warnings regarding different forms of bodily oozing, and an all-embracing concern with impurity. Leviticus is at once transcendent and arcane.

Among the more difficult passages in these first chapters devoted to the sacrificial rites are those that deal with the hattat, the sin offering for unwitting acts of sin. It may be easier to understand the other forms of sacrifice described in our parshah. Consider, for example, that the Hebrew word for sacrifice is korban, from the root word meaning “to come close.” The korban is a ritual action designed to bring the individual into a more intimate closeness with the Divine, serving perhaps as an invitation to a relationship or as an expression of gratitude.

The sin offering might then be understood as a means to atone for, and erase, whatever behavior has caused a severing of one’s relationship with God. Nevertheless, there are aspects of the sin offering that remain mysterious.

The expiation of sin in Vayikra (as described in chapters 4-5) is not accomplished by a sacrifice alone. It must involve a ritual of sprinkling blood. Professor Jacob Milgrom, in his exhaustive commentary on Leviticus, suggests that the blood of sacrifice was used as cleansing agent: because blood symbolizes life, it was used to disinfect people from the spiritual pollution of sin. In the case of the sin offering, however, the blood was not sprinkled on the one who committed the sin: “The priest shall dip his finger in the blood and sprinkle of the blood seven times before the Lord against the curtain of the shrine” (Lev. 4:6).

Since the cleansing blood is dashed on the sanctuary, not the sinner, Milgrom suggests the purpose of the sin offering is really to purge the sanctuary from the impurity caused by unwitting acts of sin. In Vayikra, sin leaves a spiritual stain on the sanctuary that must be expunged. God will not live in a polluted sanctuary. This, says, Milgrom, is also the meaning of the Yom Kippur ritual in the Temple: to cleanse the sanctuary of accumulated sin so that God can live among the people.

This ritual might seem arcane, but it is also potent. And we might want to ask ourselves, in a society in which injustice is rampant, what acts of purification can we accomplish so that God’s presence remains with us?

This past month, Immigration and Customs Enforcement swept through the heavily Latino Canal district of Marin County, arresting not only individuals for whom they had warrants but any undocumented person they found. Children were reportedly led out of school in handcuffs, or arrived home to find their mothers gone. Within a day of the sweep, the Marin Interfaith Council organized vigils in the Canal in the early morning hours.

One of those mornings, Christians joined Jews to daven the morning service. Latino children and their parents, waiting for a school bus, joined in prayer as well. Together we sang and chanted from the siddur, including the words of the Psalms: “How long will you pervert justice … Uphold the downtrodden and destitute.” For those few minutes we were all one people, and that street corner was our sanctuary. Maybe it’s not the same as sprinkling blood, but I’d like to think God was seen that morning returning to our community.


Rabbi Lavey Derby is the senior rabbi of Congregation Kol Shofar in Tiburon.




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