This week, as we begin the book of Leviticus (the 3rd of the 5 books of the Torah), we also, in many ways, open a new chapter in how we live our lives. As the realities of social distancing to sink in and new rhythms and routines (so novel just days ago) start to normalize, we feel shaken and uncertain as if taking our first real steps on new ground.
The first parsha in the book on Leviticus, Vayikra, deals with sacrifices. Though the sacrificial cult of our ancient texts feels so very distant from the ways we experience Jewish spirituality today, perhaps - hidden just beneath the surface - there is a gem of wisdom to mine. The Hebrew word for sacrifice קרבן (korban) comes from the 3-letter root .ק.ר.ב (kuf-resh-bet) which gives rise to all of the words in the Hebrew language that have to do with "closeness."
But wait?! What is the connection between making "a sacrifice" and being "close" to something? For an answer, let's try to enter into the ethos and mindset of the ancient Israelite.
Whether to the mishkan (tabernacle) in the wilderness or to the Temple in Jerusalem, when our mythic ancestors brought a sacrifice (a korban) they brought something of value and offered it to God. What they offered was not arbitrary. Not only was it highly prescripted, but also was typically something precious to them like a food-animal or measure of grain or liquid that would otherwise be life-sustaining for themselves or their family. And to what end? The goal of offering a sacrifice was להקריב (l'hakriv), "to bring oneself close" to the Divine.
Who received these sacrifices? Did God? Perhaps (insert your own theology here) - but first, they were accepted and acknowledged by the Kohanim (priests). Our ancient Israelite ancestors did not offer their sacrifices alone, but rather in coordination with a broader community that both sees and helps to hold one another's sacrifices.
The past two weeks have been a time of great sacrifice; and that which we have sacrificed - our time, our methods of connecting to one another, our financial stability and security, our expectations around normalcy, our physical and mental stability as we have served others - are certainly precious resources. And for us as for our ancient Israelite ancestors, I ask again, to what end?
As we have sacrificed, we have drawn close to one another and cleaved to that which is most important to each of us. We have gathered using Zoom, NetflixParty, Watch2Gether, Facetime, Skype, Hangouts, Facebook and other platforms to bridge the physical distance that separates us, and connected. We have spent time daily in nature, piecing together puzzles, writing poetry and music, creating works of art, meditating and cooking. We, in our time, are also engaging in this type of sacrifice that "draws us closer to."
And, like our ancient Israelite ancestors, we also do not make these sacrifices alone. If we do not have kohanim, the priestly caste in our day, who accepts and acknowledges our sacrifices? Absent the Temple and its sacrificial cult, the Rabbis of the Mishna and Talmud redefine the Jewish people as a nation of Priests. We all get to be Priests for one another!
As we move through the coming weeks, both individually and collectively (because surely, if we do not do this together we will not make it through), may we notice that, like our ancient ancestors, our sacrifices are being made within a system - that we each doing holy-priestly work as we hold, accept, and acknowledge one another's sacrifices. And may we begin to see all of the subtle and not-so-subtle ways that our sacrificing both raises ourselves and others up - as together we work to keep one another, our community, our nation, and all of humanity healthy and safe.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alanna