PARSHAT VAYIKRA

(5768)

 

RELIGION AND LEVITY

 

“The Lord called to Moses and spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting.”

                                                            (Leviticus 1:1)

 

We start the third book of the Torah, Leviticus, this coming Shabbat.  The book deals with some very serious issues – sin and atonement, impurity and purity, ethics, holiness, and a long list of blessings and curses.  Sometimes as I study Jewish tradition, I have to ask – where is the fun?  Why does religion have always to be so serious?  But then Purim comes around.  Let me once again share the thoughts I wrote in our synagogue monthly bulletin.

I find it a strange coincidence that we Jews have a festival, Purim, around the same time that much of the world celebrates Mardi Gras.  (This year Purim is a bit later because it is a Jewish leap year.)  As a reminder, as much as we Jews love to get into the spirit of “fat Tuesday,” its roots are in the Christian calendar.  It is the day before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.

            Two very different faiths have a day in the late winter – early spring built on levity and celebration.  Overindulgence in drink, partying, wearing masks, and general rowdyness are tolerated in a way that these very serious faiths would not tolerate any other time of year.  It is almost as if those of us who take religion seriously need a day of pure celebration, a joyous time to party.  And I believe that it is not mere coincidence that the day falls this time of year, when the first signs of rebirth and spring are coming.  I have not studied the religious calendar of other faiths, but I would not be surprised if they include similar celebrations.

            Religion exists to meet some deep seated human needs.  We humans need a connection to some greater purpose.  We need a community and we need ritual.  We need “a time to mourn and a time to dance,” to quote the book of Ecclesiastes.  We need answers to the most fundamental questions of life – why am I here, what happens when I die, what is the right thing to do on this earth?  And sometimes, we need to put aside the seriousness and allow levity to take over.  We Jews need a Jewish carnival.  That is why we need Purim. 

Some people have written that if religion is here to meet human needs, then religion must be a human invention.  Some very fine philosophers and thinkers are pushing an atheist agenda.  “All religions are alike.  They must be here to meet some human needs.  They are certainly not true.  God is an invention of the human imagination that we no longer need in this scientific age.”

I respectfully disagree.  I love C.S. Lewis’s thought that the universe was designed in a way that there is something out there to meet human needs.  Humans thirst and so there is water.  Humans hunger and so there is food.  Humans have deep spiritual longings and so there is God and religion. 

Judaism in particular and religion in general is quite serious, dealing with life’s ultimate questions.  But one day a year, at least in the Jewish faith, we are allowed to go a little crazy.  Perhaps both as Jews and as human beings, we need some levity in our spiritual lives.  Have a happy Purim.

 

 

PARSHAT VAYIKRA

 (5767)

 

CAN MACHINES KEEP MITZVOT – PART 1

 

“He shall lay his hand upon the head of the burnt offering, that it may be acceptable in his behalf, in expiation for him.”                                       (Leviticus 1:4)

 

            Our synagogue gift shop sells mezuzot, the small cases with hand written scrolls which Jews put on all their doors.    The cases are not costly, but the handwritten scroll that goes inside run $25 each.  A scribe had to write each one.  To make it more affordable, our gift shop wanted to make photo copies of the scrolls and sell them for a few dollars.  I vetoed the idea, saying that such photo copies are not kosher.  We could only sell actual handwritten mezuzot.

            Why are handwritten scrolls proper and photo copied scrolls improper?   This question has profound implications for what it means to keep God’s commandments.  The Torah teaches that we should “write them on the doorposts of our house and our gates.”  (Deuteronomy 6:9)  A human being, acting out of free will, has to literally write them.   A copier is a mere machine, which cannot have the will to keep the commandment of writing.

            A similar question came up many years ago.  I was invited to someone’s home for a Sabbath dinner.  When it came time to make the Friday night Kiddush, the prayer over the wine, my hosts turned on a tape recorder.  They had a tape of their son chanting the Kiddush, a son who was living in Israel.  They listened to his voice on the tape and answered “Amen.”  I thought to myself, should I answer Amen to a prayer chanted by a tape recorder?  When I hear an actor on television chant a Jewish prayer, do I reply “Amen?”  Can a tape recorder or a television pray?

            Orthodox Jews do not turn on and off lights or other electrical appliances on the Sabbath.  Often they will have automatic timers that will turn these on at set times.  I have often heard that it is hypocritical not to switch on a light, but to allow a timer to do the work.  But is a timer obligated to keep the Sabbath?  Can a machine observe God’s commandments (mitzvoth)?  When I discussed this with the teens in my weekly study group, I asked them a question.  Suppose a robot could be built which looked human and went through the motions of Jewish prayer rituals.  Could I count the robot in the minyan, the quorum of ten needed to conduct the rituals?   Is it a mitzvah (commandment) if a machine does it?

            Most of the young people answered that it is not a mitzvah if a machine does it?  Machines have no consciousness and no free will.  A few young people said that today a machine cannot keep commandments, but someday we will develop computers and robots with consciousness and will, and therefore the ability to keep commandments.  I respectfully disagreed, but history will tell who is right.

            Humans can perform God’s commandments because humans have awareness, free will, and the ability to make decisions.  This week we speak about animal sacrifices. 
Will God accept a sacrifice if the rituals are done properly but the will is not there?  The Torah seems to imply that there must be a proper attitude for the sacrifice to be acceptable to God.  After all, God accepted Abel’s sacrifice and rejected Cain’s.  Perhaps Cain had the wrong attitude when conducting the ritual.   Consciousness and attitude are vital for the performance of mitzot. 

            The rabbis have a word for the proper attitude or mental state before the performance of a commandment.  They call it kavannah, a word meaning “intention” or “devotion.”   The Talmud teaches that mitzvoth require kavannah.  (Berachot 13a)  But not all rabbis agree; there are various opinions that certain mitzvoth, even if performed without concentration, are never-the-less valid.  The mere mechanical performance without mindfulness is sufficient.  But the important lesson is that we humans are able to choose with our free will, and it is this choice that makes a commandment a commandment.

            And yet, what if we really cannot choose?  What if we humans are mere machines, as many modern philosophers contend?  We will continue with this issue next week.

 

 

PARSHAT VAYIKRA

 (5766)

 

LEADERSHIP

 

“When a ruler has sinned, and done something through ignorance against any of the commandments of the Lord his God concerning things which should not be done, and is guilty.”                                         (Leviticus 4:22)

 

            Late last night I returned from a three day trip to New York City.  Each year I bring a group of ninth graders (15 year olds) as an incentive to continue studying with me beyond bar and bat mitzvah.  It is a wonderful fun trip, although exhausting for me.  We see Jewish sights, but also experience such New York activities as walking through Times Square, riding the subway, going to a Broadway Show, and of course, shopping.  For Florida kids, there is also the experience off seeing winter.  (The first year we had a major snow storm our last day.)

            When I first planned the trip, I thought about sending the young people with staff from our synagogue.  I am too busy; why do I need to go personally?  But the answer is that these young people do not want to simply visit New York; most of them have been there before.  They want to go to New York with their rabbi.  It is an intense togetherness experience for them and for me.  (I admit, I did get a private room to sleep at night.  There is a limit to togetherness.)  Part of what they enjoyed was getting to know their rabbi up close and personal (although I am for some, a rabbi’s presence put a damper on certain activities.)

            Many adults have told me that when they were growing up, they had a very different relationship with their rabbi.  The rabbi was a distant, formal figure.  He (in those days it was always men) spoke with authority from God.  Running to catch a subway car before it closed with their rabbi would have been unthinkable.  Getting to know the rabbi as a human being was unusual.  Rabbis protected their authority.   After all, a rabbi had to be a leader, with the ability to speak in the name of God.  Part of how the rabbi maintained that leadership was through distance.

            In this week’s portion we speak about the sin offering.   A person who broke one of God’s laws had to bring an offering to find atonement (become at one) with God once again.  There were different levels of sin offerings depending on who committed the transgression.  The average person brought one type of offering.  But a leader among the people brought a more expensive offering.  Atonement is more difficult when one is a leader.  Leadership means being a role model.  Others look at leaders to set an example.  Therefore, when a leader goes down the wrong path, it is far more serious and requires a larger offering.

            If a leader is held to a higher standard, there are two approaches which leaders can take.  One is to be a distant, inaccessible, surrounded by yes people.  We see many such leaders, not just rabbis and other clergy but politicians, business leaders, celebrities, and even sports leaders who place barriers between themselves and their followers.  We have all met the athlete who refuses to ever mingle with fans or give an autograph, and we have all heard of the politician who never goes out among the people.  Distance creates an aura of authority and allows one to put up an appearance of flawlessness.  Many use this leadership model successfully.

            I prefer a different model of leadership, one that is more hands on.  The leader truly mingles among those he or she has chosen to lead.  Often in doing so, such a leader exposes faults and blemishes that some would prefer to keep hidden.  People see the leader for exactly the kind of person he or she is, with both strengths and weaknesses.  I am convinced that such a leader can be far more effective at gaining followers and influencing people.  That is the reason I go to New York with our young people.

            I believe the best rabbis, the best politicians, the best business people, and the best leaders are hands on people, present in the lives of their followers.  Of course, with such a style of leadership, a person’s faults are more obvious.  Hopefully their strengths are also more obvious.

 

 

PARSHAT VAYIKRA

 (5764)

 

WHAT ARE WE WILLING TO SACRIFICE?

 

“Speak to the Israelite people, and say to them, when any of you presents an offering of cattle to the Lord, he shall choose his offering from the herd or from the flock.”

                                                                                    (Leviticus 1:2)

 

            The new commentary Etz Hayim has a beautiful insight into animal sacrifice.  One could bring an offering from the flock or herd, from first fruits or flour.  But one cannot bring an offering from fish one has caught or game one has hunted.  The reason is that for a sacrifice to be effective, it must mean giving up something we own.  “I cannot sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that have cost me nothing.”            (2 Samuel 24:24)

            The word sacrifice means giving something up.  In order to get close to God, we must offer something up.  Animal sacrifice has long ago passed into history but the idea is still important.  In order to achieve anything worthy in life, some sacrifice is important.

            Unfortunately, we live in the age of instant gratification.  We want everything without effort, sacrifice, or pain.  Examples abound:

-         We want to have perfect bodies without the difficult discipline of regular exercise and a healthy diet.

-         We want great marriages without taking extended one-on-one time with our spouse or lover.

-         We want to raise successful happy kids while spending less and less time with them.

-         We want to be at the top of our professions without paying our dues or working our way up the ladder.

-         We want instant spirituality, without the disciplines necessary to grow our souls.

-         We want to perfect the world – tomorrow, forgetting that social change is a long, arduous process.

-         Finally, too many young people (and not a few adults) experiment with drugs for instant highs, forgetting that real highs come from hard work and accomplishments.

The Talmud says, “According to the pain is the reward.”   (Avot 5:23)   Or as moderns often put it, “No pain, no gain.” Anything worth doing in this world involves discipline, sacrifice, commitment, and sometimes a little pain.  This is true whether our goal is healthy bodies, successful marriages, lucrative employment, spiritual growth, or perfecting the world.  If we are not willing to give up a little of ourselves, nothing worthwhile will happen.

      I recently spoke to one of our young people who is struggling with his school work.  He admitted that at night he is too tired to study.  I recommended that he begin doing his homework earlier in the afternoon.  In a moment of honest candor which I appreciated, the young man said, “I don’t have the self-discipline to do my homework earlier.”

      In Jewish tradition, children began learning Bible with the chapters on sacrifice.  The traditional reason is that since children are pure, let them learn about laws of purity.  Perhaps a better reason is that children need to learn the value of self-discipline and self-sacrifice from the very beginning.  Discipline and sacrifice do not come naturally to children, nor to adults.   

Sacrifice is a central part of successful living.   This is as true today as it was when our ancestors received the book of Leviticus.  Then they sacrificed goats and sheep, valuable parts of their flocks.  Today we must be equally willing to sacrifice time, effort, sweat, money, and part of ourselves if we are to live worthy lives.

 

 

 

PARSHAT VAYIKRA

(5763)

 

P.E.T.A.

 

"Speak to the Israelite people and say to them, when any of you presents an offering of cattle to the Lord, he shall choose his offering from the herd or from the flock."

(Leviticus 1:2)

 

Most Jews and many non-Jews were outraged by a recent ad sponsored by People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (P.E.T.A.).   The ad showed two pictures side by side, one of Jewish victims of the Nazis in a concentration camp, the other of chickens in a cage ready for the slaughter.  In between in large letters were the words "The Holocaust on your Plate."

The Anti-Defamation League said "It is so offensive.  They clearly want the attention."  Any Holocaust survivor would be deeply pained by a picture comparing him or her to chickens.  A spokesman for P.E.T.A., who happens to be Jewish, responded that, "We are all animals."   On this very point I must take issue with P.E.T.A. and the entire animal rights community. 

The central vision of the Torah is that humans are qualitatively different from animals.  We are created in the image of God.  It was the Nazis who took away human dignity and saw Jews and others as no different from vermin.  The first steps in the Nazi's diabolical plan were the Nuremberg Laws, which slowly took away the dignity of Jews and made them mere animals.  The last step was the gas chambers.

This week's portion deals with animal sacrifice.  The notion of bringing cows, sheep, and goats to the Temple to be offered up to God seems foreign, almost barbaric to us moderns.  Yet in its time animal sacrifice was a huge step forward.  Such sacrifices replaced the normal practice of the ancient pagan peoples - human sacrifice.  It was a key step up the evolutionary ladder, that humans are not animals.

In the book of Genesis, God told Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son Isaac.  Abraham willingly brought Isaac up to Mount Moriah and prepared to offer him as a whole burnt offering.  At the last minute an angel of the Lord stopped Abraham's hand.  The message to Abraham was clear, "Human life is infinitely valuable.  Human sacrifice is no longer an acceptable religious practice."  A ram was caught in the thicket by its horns, to be used as a substitute sacrifice.  The human need to offer sacrifice could be filled by an animal offering, but not by human sacrifice.

Today we no longer offer animal sacrifice.  Maimonides wrote that animal sacrifice was a necessary step at one point in history, a compromise at this early stage of human development.  We humans no longer need to offer animals in order to bring ourselves close to God; prayer, ritual, and meditation will serve as well.  But historically, animal sacrifice was a necessary step up the evolutionary ladder.

Perhaps someday we humans will move up the ladder another step and cease eating meat altogether.  (Although I do not see this in the immediate future.)  But the reason is not because we are mere animals.  On the contrary, the reason is because we are higher on the ladder than animals; unlike animals we humans are able to reflect and empathize with others.  Since we have suffered, we understand when other living creatures suffer.

Although I am not a vegetarian, I would like to suggest an alternative campaign for P.E.T.A. and others who would push a vegetarian diet in keeping with true Torah values.  Let them use the words, "Animals eat other animals.  We humans ought to be better.  Eat vegetarian."  

(P.S. I urge readers of this essay not to donate money to P.E.T.A.  Instead, send them this spiritual message.)

PARSHAT VAYIKRA

(5762)

 

LOVE AND TZIMTZUM

 

"Speak to the children of Israel and say to them, when any of you presents an offering of cattle to the Lord, you shall choose your offering from the herd or from the flock."

(Leviticus 1:2)

 

It is difficult for us moderns to relate to the detailed arcane laws of sacrifice at the beginning of the book of Leviticus.  However, beneath the surface there are deeply relevant insights we can use in our everyday lives.

The Hebrew word for sacrifice is korbanot.      It comes from the Hebrew word karav which means "to approach," "to get close."  The Hebrew word seems to mean that if we wish to get close to someone, we have to sacrifice something.  We cannot become close to anyone else when we are focused on our own needs and our own desires.  Only when we set ourselves aside and focus on the other can we truly love them.

Love begins with sacrifice.  Real love means sacrificing our own needs to focus on the needs of the other.  A wise rabbi taught long ago, "When love depends on achieving a certain goal, love vanishes when that goal is achieved.  But when love is not dependent on any goal, that love never vanishes."  (Avot 5:18) If we love someone with the goal of fulfilling our own needs and desires, that love will disappear when our needs are fulfilled.  But if we love unconditionally, with no ulterior motive, our love will flourish.

The Torah speaks of Isaac's love for his son Esau, because he brought him game to eat from the field.  Isaac's love was conditional.  Imagine if one day Esau told his father, "Dad, I have decided to become a vegetarian.  No more hunting."  How quickly the love would disappear.  On the other hand, Rebecca's love for Jacob was unconditional.  She was focused on her son's needs, not her own.  This is the love that will flourish.  (Let us set aside for the moment the issue of these parents playing favorites.)

Real love means setting aside our own ego.  It is directed towards the other, which means our own self has to be set aside.  In a sense, when we love another we are imitating God.  According to the Kabbala, when God was ready to create the universe, God contracted Him/Herself to make room for this world.  Until that time, God's essence filled everything.  Until the contraction, there was no room for anything else.  This is the notion of tzimtzum "contraction" and without it there would not be room for a world.  The lesson is, you cannot create a world until you contract, give up a little of yourself."

When we love, we give up ourselves to focus on the needs of the other.  We may even have to sacrifice our own needs.  But through sacrifice (korbanot), we grow close (karav) to our beloved, whether our neighbor, our spouse, our child, our God.  Love demands a personal tzimtzum.

This past Kol Nidre night I shared a story which reflects this powerful idea.  A man had a very strange dream - he saw a house that was giving off a great deal of light.  When he walked into the house, he saw all sorts of candles all over the place.  Some of the candles were burning bright, some were dim, some were almost flickering out.  He found the keeper of the house and asked, "What is this?"

The keeper replied, "Each candle is a different soul living in the world.  The ones burning bright are in the prime of life.  The ones low on oil and flickering are people who are dying.  When the candle goes out, the person dies."

The keeper of the candles turned his back for a moment, and the man quickly searched for his own candle.  He found the candle with his name flickering in the corner.  It looked as if it was about to be extinguished.  The man panicked, and looked around for some more oil to pour into his candle so it would burn brighter.  He started to take oil from another candle burning bright.  But a hand stopped him.

"That is not how it works here.  Your candle does not burn brighter when you take oil from someone else.  On the contrary, your candle burns brighter when you give oil to someone else."  The man picked up his flickering candle and poured oil into several other candles.  When he put it down, the flame started burning brighter.  And so the man awoke from his very strange dream.

PARSHAT VAYIKRA

(5761)

 

CHANNELING OUR DRIVES

 

"Speak to the children of Israel and say to them, When any of you presents an offering of cattle to the Lord, he shall choose his offering from the herd or from the flock."

(Leviticus 1:2)

 

This week we begin reading the book of Leviticus, the third book of the Torah.  Much of the beginning of this book describes the arcane details of the animal sacrifices brought in the ancient Temple.

It is difficult for moderns to comprehend that through most of ancient history, God was worshiped through animal sacrifice.  The very first act of worship described in the Bible were the offerings of Cain and Abel, the sons of Adam and Eve.  Cain brought an offering of crops, which God swiftly rejected.  Abel brought an offering from his flocks which God accepted.  From this time onwards, the sacrifice of animals became the norm.  Noah brought two of each kind of ordinary animals on the ark, but seven of the clean animals.  Thus there would be animals for sacrifice (as well as food) when Noah exited the ark.

All of this seems fairly primitive to us moderns.  It is certainly a step up from human sacrifice, so prevalent in the pagan world.  Still, this image of the Temple in Jerusalem as a giant slaughterhouse is troubling for us moderns.  In the Conservative Movement's prayerbook, we no longer pray for the rebuilding of the Temple and the restoration of sacrifice.  Rather, we pray that we can serve God with as much conviction and love as our ancestors who brought these sacrifices.

Can we moderns learn anything from these ancient laws of sacrifice?  Is there some insight we can apply to today from this image of countless cows, sheep, goats, and birds offered up to God?  I recall visiting the Samaritan community in Israel on Passover as they offered up sheep for their Passover offering.  It was more than a giant barbeque.  I sensed a true religious excitement, a sense of joy in being in God=s presence, even as the Samaritans went about the bloody business of slaughtering the sheep.  It was as if some primitive urge was being channeled into the service of God.

I remember when I realized the power of this human urge for blood.  Daredevil Evil Knievel had publicized that he would jump across the Snake River in Idaho on a motorcycle .  Thousands of people gathered to watch him, possibly perform an amazing feat of skill, courage, (and in my mind, stupidity.)  But many also lined up to watch as he was injured or possibly killed.  It was the same primitive human drive that brought people by the thousands to watch gladiators fight to the death in ancient Rome.  (Now that Gladiator has won the Academy Award for best picture, we can relive today the popularity of these ancient contests.)          

I recall bringing my son to a World Wrestling Federation match.  When the wrestlers were simply using their skills in the ring, the crowd would shout "bor-ing, bor-ing."  Only when chairs starting flying, people were thrown out of the ring, the blood began to flow, was the screaming crowd satisfied.  I have seen this same drive for blood at professional hockey games and football matches.

The most popular spectator sport in America is auto racing.  Recently I saw the advertisement on television for a local race.  It included exciting footage of the cars racing, including one spectacular crash.  Obviously this image of cars crashing into the wall was part of the selling point.  It seemed particularly tasteless to me, particularly following the tragic death of the popular race car driver Dale Earnhardt.

Perhaps the ancient animal sacrifices were a way of taking these primitive human drives and channeling them towards the service of God.    When the Torah teaches that we should love God with all of our heart (Deuteronomy 6:5), Rashi comments that we should love God with both our good and our evil inclinations.  Part of the evil inclination is this primitive drive that loves violence.  Can this drive be used to serve God?

Today few of us would advocate the return to animal sacrifices.  Nonetheless, how can we take the same drive that brings humans to Nascar races and gladiator contests, to hockey games and the World Wresting Federation, and use it in the service of God?  How can we take what is primitive in human beings, uplift it, and make it holy?

PARSHAT VAYIKRA

(5760)

 

IS GUILT GOOD?

 

"The Lord spoke to Moses saying, Speak to the Israelite people thus, When a person unwittingly incurs guilt in regard to any of the Lord's commandments about things not to be done..."

                                   (Leviticus 4:1-2)

 

This week we begin a new book, Leviticus.  Much of the first half of the book is difficult for us moderns, dealing with such arcane matters as sacrifice and purity laws.  Nonetheless, there are issues as relevant today as they were when the book was written over three millennia ago.

For example, there are a number of laws regarding sin offerings.  All of them come down to one question - when we go wrong with our lives, how do we get ourselves back on the right path?  How do we become at one with God once again?  (Atonement means at-one-ment.)  How do we deal with our guilt?

There are some who say guilt is not a good thing.  I hear from psychologists how guilt is destructive to our self esteem.  I hear from some new age religious thinkers how God loves us and forgives us no matter what path we are on.  All we have to do is love ourselves, develop high self esteem.  Anything that makes us feel less good about ourselves must be bad.

One of the lessons of the Torah is that guilt is a good thing.  It is like the pain we feel that makes us go to the doctor for a check up.  Guilt is a pain in our psyche that causes us to realize we are on the wrong path, we have done wrong, we need to take action to become at one with God.  Guilt and remorse are the impetus towards self improvement.  It allows us to change our path, to remove pain, to become at one again with God.

Perhaps it is useful to compare two emotions I often see among people who come to me for counseling - guilt and shame.  As I mentioned, guilt can be healthy and constructive.  Shame on the other hand, is destructive.

What is the difference?  Guilt is when we say "I have done bad."  Shame is when we say "I am bad."  Guilt judges our actions.  Shame judges our very being.  Guilt says "what I did was unworthy."  Shame says "I am unworthy."  Guilt can put us back on the right path.  Shame says we are beyond hope, we cannot get back in God's good graces.

We are human beings, created in the image of God.  We are worthy by our very existence.  I have had people come to me for counseling who have said, "Rabbi, I am so ashamed.  I feel like I cannot even sit in your office, let alone stand before God."  I tell such people that, just as a parent never stops loving a child, God never stops loving us.  "As a father has mercy on his children, so the Lord is merciful with those who His worshippers." (Psalms 103:3)  There is never a need for shame.