Leviticus and Numbers are dreaded books of the Torah for Bar and Bat Mitzvah kids. They are full of what seems like arcane laws and facts. How does a thirteen year old kid write a speech about what we can learn from the specific details of how to slaughter a cow?
I never really thought about the meaning of these particular rituals. I was always taught that after the second temple was destroyed, the rabbis decided that prayer was an acceptable alternative to sacrifice thus introducing what to this day is the standard prayer service. So, I never worried bout the sacrifices. I didn't have to understand them because they weren't necessary anymore. Yet, the lessons are still necessary. As I've stated in prior posts, I don't really believe that the words in the Torah are to be taken discrete and literally. They are examples of a broader code.
So, what are they trying to tell us? Well, first, here is a brief example of what they are telling us:
If his offering is a burnt offering from the herd, he shall make his offering a male without blemish. He shall bring it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, for acceptance in his behalf before the Lord. He shall lay his hand upon the head of the burnt offering, in expiation for him. The bull shall be slaughtered before the Lord and Aaron's sons, the priests, shall offer the blood, dashing the blood against all sides of the altar which is at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. (Lev 1:3-6).
The verse continues with similar requirements for sheep and goats, birds, and grains. Some of the details vary (i.e., where you perform certain tasks). What's common among them is that the offering should always be the finest of what you have and without blemish. The "offerer" always has a role in the preparation. That's where the lessons lie and they are quite simple:
1. When you are in the presence of God you are to present the best of what you've got. Given that God is all around us, that means all the time. Our thoughts, decisions, and actions should be the best that we have. We should offer them without blemish. We should be fully invested in what we are doing, we should avoid shortcuts or cutting corners.
2. We all must take responsibility for carrying our actions forward. I believe that holiness is about ensuring that what is taking place in the past, the present, and the future was done properly and in a way that improves the world. You can't abdicate responsibility at the entrance to the tent. It's not enough to bring the bull and hope things work out. You must take part in the preparation of the sacrifice just as you must take part in ensuring that the work you've started continues (even if it is not finished as Pirke Avot reminds us).
3. Do not remove yourself from the messiness of the world. Some people believe that the sacrificial system is antiquated or uncivilized. To our modern sensibilities, slaughtering an animal is cruel, pointless, and even barbaric. Yet, I think that if I actually had to slaughter the animals I ate, I'd probably have a much greater appreciation for them. I'd think a lot more about what the animal has given to me. I certainly wouldn't take it for granted. The life of that animal would become sacred, even if I had to take it. Maybe because I had to take it. That doesn't seem barbaric to me. Isn't it more barbaric to walk into a store and buy a pack of meat with no regard for where it came from? It's a product to me, not a life. It's not more significant than the potato chips or bottle of laundry detergent that sit next to it in the cart? It's messy to be part of the slaughter, but that messiness is what makes us appreciate the value of that which is being slaughtered. I've read that soldiers who engage in hand to hand combat take a very different view of war than do those who drop bombs on radar "targets" from 10,000 feet up. To me, removing oneself from the process of killing is what is barbaric.
