What Moses Wrote—and The Rabbis Wrought: Va-Yikra

What Moses Wrote—and The Rabbis Wrought

D’var Torah for Parashat Va-Yikra

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

This week’s Torah portion bears the name of the book which it opens:  Va-Yikra, Leviticus.

God “calls out” for Moses from the Tent of Meeting and issues directions regarding the sacrifices that people may bring.

Who may offer the sacrifice, what the gift must be, where it is to be offered and who gets what piece of it—these are only some of the details that this book lists (again and again).  I admit—it’s pretty gory stuff, primitive and even tribal.

The good news is that the Torah regulates sacrifices to such extent that the ritual is doomed to extinction and eventually ends.  Once the Temple is destroyed—first, temporarily, by the Babylonians in 586 BCE, then, to this day, by the Romans in the year 70 CE—the sacrificial cult must, and does, end.

Yet we study Va-Yikra with as much reverence as the other books of the Torah.  It’s actually the first text that Jewish children studied when they began learning Torah in the cheider, the one-room Hebrew school of the old days.  What accounts for such sweet devotion to such an antiquated book? 

There’s a huge lesson there. 

What we learn in Leviticus and what we remember even after all the other minutiae of the sacrifices are forgotten, is that we are never really alone; that there are other people around; that we are surrounded by—and are a part of—Nature; that even when we think we cannot be seen, God sees all.  And that our deeds, no matter how seemingly small, matter; that we do leave an impact on everything and everyone around us.

As soon as we understand the importance of this teaching, as soon as we realize and remember that actions bear consequences, we become at once wiser and more mature.

Va-Yikra teaches us that we must recognize and be thankful to God when we have occasions of joy; when we recover from illness; when we see a child become bar or bat mitzvah; when he or she is accepted to the college of their choice; and when they wed and begin a life of their own.  Not to be taken for granted, these mileposts in our life represent the sum total of our effort as individuals and as parents, partners in the ongoing act of Creation.  They are moments at which we should stop to reconsider ourselves and our place in universe.

For such moments, Va-Yikra has us offer a feast of well-being and thanksgiving.

But there are also times when we fail to be our best.  When by accident or purpose, by neglect or intent, we miss the mark, and the choices we make lead us to deeds that require reparation, or the work of repair. 

For these occasions, Va-Yikra is a training manual:  such-and-such sin requires such-and-such repair.  The book teaches us to evaluate our actions, to consider the consequences of everything we do.  Our deeds do affect others, and—it’s essential to realize—as much as hurt can be inflicted to our bodies, so can there be injury done to our hearts and to our souls.  Each has its own repair ritual.

Mistakes, of course, are different from deliberate wrongs, yet they too require consideration and repair.  The wrong has to be made right again.

But Va-Yikra takes us farther.  It has us understand that our actions reverberate even beyond ourselves.  Sometimes, inaction is as loud as anything we say or do.  So, for example, any community’s silence in the face of prejudice or a hate crime signifies compliance.  Our failure to cry foul makes all of us partners and willing accomplices with the actual perpetrator.  

And of course, the consequences of a leader’s action extend far beyond him- or herself, for the simple fact that society looks up to the leader for both direction and example. 

Called by God to instruct the people, Moses does just so.  He teaches us to measure ourselves by the highest standards.  More importantly, he teaches us that when we don’t quite measure up, when we fail to pass muster, we have to try again and again—until we succeed.

Alas, the Temple in Jerusalem is gone, and with it a much-detailed ritual that once connected us with God.  How do we close the circuit now that this path is closed?  Here is where the ancient Rabbis picked up.

Once sacrifices ended, the Rabbis substituted something else.  Actually, three things:  First, prayer.  It’s simple.  We pray to God to offer thanks or to beg forgiveness and ask for another chance. 

Second, we study.  By studying Va-Yikra we learn and reinforce the astute lessons of justice and morality that God and Moses intended for us.

Third, we offer sacrifice.  To be sure, we don’t kill animals and splatter their blood any more (and that’s just fine by me, thank you), but we do cook a meal for the hungry, we do offer shelter for the weary and homeless.  And we do offer of our own resources to build synagogues, schools, hospitals and courts of law.

The sacrifice ritual may have come to an end; but the thinking behind it has not.  The instruction of Moses and the Rabbis still resounds today.  Evaluating our life at every point makes us better equipped for what may come next.  The sacrifices we offer every day—whether of our money, time or effort—make us and the group around us better.  That is the everlasting teaching of Va-Yikra, and it is to this teaching we dedicate our lives and the lives of our children.

© 2013 by Boaz D. Heilman