The Interweaving of Holiness: D’var Torah for Parashat Vayikra

The Interweaving of Holiness: D’var Torah for Parashat Vayikra
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
March 23, 2012

This week’s Torah portion, Vayikra, is also the Hebrew name of the third book of the Torah, Leviticus. Vayikra (Lev. 1:1-5:26) is the first portion of this book, and goes into action without even so much as a how-do-you-do. With the very first word of this parasha, God calls (“vayikra”) for Moses. In the Tent of Meeting, God issues a series of commands relating to the way sacrifices are to be offered.

At first directed only toward the officiating priest, these instructions soon extend to the layperson, the individual who brings the offering. An interrelationship immediately develops, as the one who brings the offering lays his hands on the animal’s head, transferring whatever purpose he may have had in mind, heart or soul to the animal being presented. The priest then takes over and lays his hands on the animal’s head, adding yet more purpose and dedication. Only then is the animal sacrificed. After disposing of the blood and other unusable parts, the majority of the meat (or grain, vegetable or fruit) of the sacrifice is used for feeding the priest as well as the larger community. Only a token of each offering is burnt completely at the altar, “as a gift of pleasing odor to Adonai.” Thus a circle of mutual responsibility is created, in which feeding the hungry is as important as “feeding God,” or accounting for a wrongdoing.

Specific reasons for offering a sacrifice are enumerated and explained in depth. There is the olah offering, a daily sacrifice offered every morning, the only sacrifice that is burnt completely. A guilt offering is shown to be different from a sin offering, being more of a response to an uneasy sense that something may have gone wrong though the intention was good. Actual sins, however, are quite another matter. They are actions taken—knowingly or not—that specifically contradict a commandment. Obviously bearing more severe consequences, the penalty for these is greater too.

Among the listed sins is that of withholding testimony. A person who can testify must do so, at the risk of incurring guilt if he or she doesn’t. Responsibility for justice isn’t just for individuals; it is a matter of concern for the whole community. Similarly, if a sin is somehow overlooked (how easy it is, in the daily hustle and bustle of life, to push aside a simple slight, possibly with the intent to make right it later, more likely to be forgotten a moment later); it is the right thing to do to bring the oversight to the attention of the one who sinned. A wrong—no matter how slight and seemingly unimportant—is still a wrong; its consequences linger on, causing greater harm the longer they remain unaddressed.

Correcting mistakes is the essence of Vayikra. Recognizing a wrong done to another person requires apology and restitution. If the wrong is also a breach of God’s law, a sacrifice is also required.

The priests are responsible not only for serving God. As the middleman between the lay person and God, they also serve the lay people who depend on them. The people bring to the priest their pleas and requests, asking him to present these before God. The priests, in return, hold the power to declare a person innocent, free of guilt and of further responsibility. They can declare an individual tahor, purified or healed—or conversely, tamei, unqualified to participate in public rituals or even to dwell in the midst of the community.

At the same time, the priests (descendants of Aaron, of the tribe of Levi, hence the English title of the book) must also be there for one another. The sacrifices have to be made according to regulation; veering from the exact specifications may cause any number of bad consequences. More mature priests will mentor the younger ones, instructing them both before and during the ritual.

Much in the same way is Torah chanted in our day. To the side of the person who is chanting the prescribed Torah portion stands the gabbai, the proofreader. This person follows the chanting word by word, vowel by vowel, making sure it is done correctly. Should the reader make a mistake, it’s the gabbai’s responsibility to correct him (or her, in the more liberal traditions). If both fail to note and correct a mistake, someone from the congregation needs to make the correction. It’s the whole community’s responsibility to make sure the Torah is read correctly.

Holiness is more than one individual’s state of mind or being. It’s more like a huge tallit that encompasses all who would seek shelter under it. It needs to be maintained by all of us—each within our sphere of influence, all of us guided by the sense of morality and righteousness planted within us as the Divine Image.

As the laws of holiness in Leviticus evolve, we learn that holiness isn’t contained to the Tent of Meeting. It isn’t just between God and Moses, or just between God and the priests. Holiness must be found in every aspect of our own daily lives—in the ways we treat one another; in the ways we interrelate with life all around us. The incredible view that Leviticus offers us is of the whole world, and indeed the whole universe, being holy. None of our actions, for better or for worse, is without consequence. Wrongs must be righted, or an imbalance might be created; a small wrong can—and will—get so much worse if left unattended.

Leviticus may have started out as a priestly manual. Its reach, however, soon extends to each one of us, enveloping us—if we so will—with holiness. We all become God’s priests, responsible for one another as well as for God and God’s Creation. We can all be holy—if we so choose.


©2012 by Boaz D. Heilman