Vayikra, this week’s portion, details some aspects of the sacrificial system, the central part of Jewish spiritual life from Antiquity until about 70 C.E when the Romans destroyed the second Temple. Some branches of Judaism still offer prayers in the daily T’fillah for a restoration of the sacrificial cult, as it was practiced in the first and second Temples, some 2000 years ago, at its most recent. I find it intriguing that Jews have now survived for longer without the sacrificial system than we did with it.
But as I noted, this week’s portion conveys how some of the sacrifices were to occur. I’ll spare you the gory details—and believe me, they are really gory in some places—so I can point out one thing about the old system: it was really a hands-on, time- and energy-intensive process. Ok, I know I said I’d spare you the details, but in broad strokes, some sacrifices involved preparing, slaughtering, carving, and burning to ash a full-sized bull. Tell me that didn’t take more than a little bit of effort.
Since the destruction of the Second Temple, many scholars have pointed out that the term for sacrifice in Hebrew can also mean “to draw near,” implying that God does not so much desire sacrifice as God desires us to bring ourselves closer to God; prayer, therefore, has taken the place of sacrifice as the chief method of drawing near to God. The external, hands-on approach to sacrifice transforms into an internal, thoughtful process of prayer.
Now, I don’t believe that we need to restore the sacrificial system, but I think that system offers an interesting comparison point to our time. I don’t think it’s uncommon for people to go to a prayer service expecting to be moved, or to be rejuvenated, or to be brought closer to God. It’s not that easy, however. Perhaps prayer doesn’t require the same visceral level of effort as sacrifice; at the same time, praying with sincerity—true, meaningful, in-depth prayer—can be even more difficult to achieve. There’s too much fighting for my attention, and it’s too easy for me to get distracted or for my mind to wander.
It’s not physical heavy lifting, but meaningful prayer requires work. For me, it comes to this: do not go into prayer thinking you will come out unchanged—but do not think the change can happen by itself. The words alone can only guide us so far; at best they can only take us part of the way. It is the intention, the words of the heart that make prayer successful.
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
You did what?!
Not only is it a newly weekly portion in front of us, it’s a new book of the Torah. Yup, we’ve begun Vayikra, Leviticus, the book known for its lists of dos and do nots and the corrective actions to take along the way. To me, Vayikra often reads as a law text, proscribing and prescribing the way things ought to be; it’s sort of like case law for the Torah.
There’s something about case law, though. If you’re familiar with the judicial idea of stare decisis, you know that that doctrine means we should let precedents stand; that is not, however, the way law always works. While some case law certainly stands as precedent, other law is overturned, and over time, certainly, laws adjust to fit the society in which they are enforced rather than the society in which they were enacted.
You might think you know where I’m going: perhaps it sounds like I’m going to say that the rules in Leviticus no longer apply since the society we live in is so different from the society these laws come from, there being 3500 years difference there. I suppose that would be one way to answer the question. But I don’t think it’s that easy. While I am not of the opinion that we need to follow the rules laid forth in Vayikra simply because they’re there, I also don’t think that we can toss them all out because of when they come from. To me, there’s a middle ground, and to me, that middle ground involves what the laws are telling us about living.
This first weekly portion deals so much with sacrifices of one kind or another, for instance, and I don’t think the point is the sacrifices themselves. Instead it’s the idea that underlies the sacrifices that’s important. In this first parsha, you see thanksgiving sacrifices, offerings for unintentional sin, offerings for possible sin, for individual wrongs, and communal wrongs, among others. To me, the point is that we are responsible for what we do; our actions, whether intentional or not, communal or single, definitive or possible, all have consequences, and that we need to be responsible for those actions—and responsibility means more than just feeling bad. Responsibility means getting up and doing something about it.
Certainly, society now finds it more fitting to go and speak to a person you’ve wronged, for example (the Torah does, too; sacrifices are only one part of the process), but the idea remains the same: when you do something you shouldn’t, whether you mean to or not, do something to rectify the situation, something definitive, so you and everyone else can get on with life. That’s the spirit, in my view, of this portion of Vayikra: we’re all gonna mess up. It’s how we handle it that’s important.
There’s something about case law, though. If you’re familiar with the judicial idea of stare decisis, you know that that doctrine means we should let precedents stand; that is not, however, the way law always works. While some case law certainly stands as precedent, other law is overturned, and over time, certainly, laws adjust to fit the society in which they are enforced rather than the society in which they were enacted.
You might think you know where I’m going: perhaps it sounds like I’m going to say that the rules in Leviticus no longer apply since the society we live in is so different from the society these laws come from, there being 3500 years difference there. I suppose that would be one way to answer the question. But I don’t think it’s that easy. While I am not of the opinion that we need to follow the rules laid forth in Vayikra simply because they’re there, I also don’t think that we can toss them all out because of when they come from. To me, there’s a middle ground, and to me, that middle ground involves what the laws are telling us about living.
This first weekly portion deals so much with sacrifices of one kind or another, for instance, and I don’t think the point is the sacrifices themselves. Instead it’s the idea that underlies the sacrifices that’s important. In this first parsha, you see thanksgiving sacrifices, offerings for unintentional sin, offerings for possible sin, for individual wrongs, and communal wrongs, among others. To me, the point is that we are responsible for what we do; our actions, whether intentional or not, communal or single, definitive or possible, all have consequences, and that we need to be responsible for those actions—and responsibility means more than just feeling bad. Responsibility means getting up and doing something about it.
Certainly, society now finds it more fitting to go and speak to a person you’ve wronged, for example (the Torah does, too; sacrifices are only one part of the process), but the idea remains the same: when you do something you shouldn’t, whether you mean to or not, do something to rectify the situation, something definitive, so you and everyone else can get on with life. That’s the spirit, in my view, of this portion of Vayikra: we’re all gonna mess up. It’s how we handle it that’s important.
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