Perplexing parshiyot, ethics of animal sacrifice

Last week, we finished the Chumash of Shemos and learned about the construction of the Mishkan. We were able to appreciate the ethical and spiritual benefits of giving, of the importance of the participation of every individual if a community, however large and gifted, is to achieve its goals.

It is not naïve to assume that even the contemporary phenomenon of Jewish generosity and our people’s enthusiastic involvement in charitable causes has its roots in the degree to which we all contributed to the sacred task of building the Mishkan. The successful completion of this task is even more remarkable when one realizes that it was achieved by a mass of “homeless” people wandering through an arid and untamed wilderness.

This week, we begin the Chumash of Vayikra and for several weeks will read about the animal sacrifices that were offered in the Mishkan, and continued to be offered in the Holy Temple of Jerusalem (with some disruptions) for many centuries.

Many people find themselves perplexed by these upcoming readings. For one thing, they find the very notion of animal sacrifices disturbing. They associate such sacrifices with primitive societies and consider them totally alien to modern sensitivities. They even have difficulties with the fact that we include pleas for the imminent restoration of such sacrifices in our daily prayers and even more so in our prayers during the Sabbath and Festivals.

Some of those who are troubled by sacrificial rites are aware of Maimonides’s suggestion that these rites were only temporarily necessary for an ancient people that was accustomed to, if not steeped in, such practices and had to be gradually weaned from them. The fact that Maimonides himself devoted major sections of his major work to a detailed explication of sacrificial procedures seems to indicate that his suggestion that they were impermanent was just that, a suggestion.

Others, less concerned with animal sacrifices per se, ask this question: “The Torah is meant to be a guide to our ethical behavior and soulful spirituality. How does this week’s parsha, and the next several parshiyot, guide us ethically or inspire us spiritually?”

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Our commentaries throughout the ages have taken these concerns seriously and addressed them in ways that were consistent with the cultural backgrounds of their audiences. This week, and for the next several weekly Torah portions, I will attempt to present approaches to this topic, some classic and some quite recent.

To begin with a truly classic commentator, I’ll share Rashi’s concern with one word in the opening verses of our parsha. The verses read:

The L-rd called to Moshe. From the Tent of Meeting, He spoke to him and said, “Speak to the Israelites. Say: When one of you [adam mikem] brings an animal offering to the L-rd, you may bring it either from the herd [cattle] or from the flock [sheep or goats].”

Rashi quickly picks up on the extraordinary use of the word adam instead of “one of you” or “man” or “person”. After all, adam is the name of one specific man, namely Adam, the first man created. Rashi answers:

Just as Adam did not bring an offering from a stolen animal, for — as the only human then alive — everything was his, so too should none of you offer a stolen animal.

Rabbi Avigdor HaLevi Nebenzahl, Chief Rabbi of the Old City of Jerusalem, used this comment of Rashi in an informal lecture to his students. He was particularly disturbed by the assumption that everything on earth “belonged” to Adam in that primeval setting. After all, the L-rd is described as the Koneh HaKol, the owner of everything, including Adam himself. Did Adam indeed “own” every living creature, every plant and tree, mountain and river? Of course not.

Rabbi Nebenzahl proceeds to analyze the nature of the prohibition of offering sacrifices from stolen animals.

One of his helpful insights is the distinction he makes between two purposes for the prohibition. One is a social purpose: Positive relationships among the component members of society require trust and interdependence. Without rules and regulations, life in a society would be unbearable.

The second is a spiritual purpose: The cultivation of spirit and soul in this mundane world requires rules governing monetary matters. Only with such rules can the soul advance from “earth to heaven.”

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Rabbi Nebenzahl is astonished by the brazenness of a person who steals an animal and offers it to G-d. What can he be thinking? Can a Divine Being be duped or bribed? Or can G-d be so needy that He would ignore the egregious sin of theft just to, so to speak, satisfy his needs? Has the good L-rd no compassion for the poor victim of the theft?

One who offers stolen animals is either blasphemous, or has a self-centered motivation so consuming that he develops a perverse theology, or is just plain stupid.

The use of the term adam provides Rashi with the opportunity to demonstrate the most fundamental aspects of an authentic theology, namely that worship and blatant sin cannot go hand in hand. The L-rd despises theft, just as He despises all human behaviors that harm other humans. Legitimate acts of worship must be free of wrongdoing. This is a concept that Talmudic sages formulated long ago — nothing is a mitzvah if it comes about through an averah.

How apt are the following prophetic teachings of Micah, and how useful are his words as a framework for gaining perspective on the entire concept of sacrificial ritual as we soon confront the entire Chumash Vayikra:

What then can I offer the L-rd when I bow low to the G-d Most High? Should I come before Him with burnt offerings, with year-old calves? Would the L-rd want a thousand rams, untold rivulets of oil? Should I offer my firstborn as payment for my crimes, the fruit of my womb for the sins of my being? Man, G-d has told you what is good and what the L-rd seeks from you: only to do justice, love goodness, and walk modestly with your G-d. (Micah 6:6-8)

Write: Columnist@TheJewishStar.com