Vayikra
Parashat Vayikra is the first portion of the book of Vayikra/Leviticus. It begins with God instructing Moses to describe 5 types of sacrifices to the Israelites. The text describes the procedures for the people and the priests to follow and the part of the sacrifice which is to go to Aaron and his sons.
Vayikra – Karen Radkowsky
Karen Radkowsky has been involved in Limmud for the past 10 years and co-chaired this past year’s chavruta team. She is the founding president of Limmud NY and is a member of the Limmud International Steering Group. Karen is also Chief Research Officer of The Geppetto Group, a youth marketing and branding agency in New York.
This week, we begin reading the third book of the Torah, Vayikra or Leviticus. Though Leviticus is known formally as Torat Kohanim (literally, instructions for the priests), most of its laws are addressed to all of the Jewish people. This is fitting, because the Israelites were previously declared by God to be a kingdom of priests (mamlechet kohanim) and a holy nation (goy kadosh), in Exodus 19:6.
The first five chapters of Vayikra make up this week's parasha. They detail the five principal types of korbanot (offerings) that could be brought by an individual and by the community to the Mishkan (the Israelites' portable dwelling place for God from the time of the Exodus from Egypt through the conquering of the land of Canaan) and, later, to the Temple. These included: burnt offerings (olah), grain offerings (mincha), offerings of thanks (sh'lamim), sin offerings (chatat) and guilt offerings (asham).
It is widely accepted that animal sacrifices existed in the ancient Near East long before our ancestors became a people. And, even within the Torah, there are many examples of offerings to God being made prior to the Mishkan's dedication (which was detailed in last week’s parasha). However, as I learned several years ago from Dr. Rafi Zarum, the word korban does not occur in the Torah until the book of Vayikra. In Genesis and Exodus, there are numerous references to the sacrificial altar (mizbeyach), but the offerings are simply referred to by name (e.g., olah, mincha, pesach), without the inclusion of the word korban. This implies that, with the building of the Mishkan (often translated as Tabernacle or Tent of Meeting), a new kind of sacred offering was introduced.
Parashat Vayikra begins with the words Vayikra el Moshe: "He [God] called to Moses and spoke to him from [inside] the Tent of Meeting" [Leviticus 1:1]. Our sages emphasize that Moses was the only prophet to whom God spoke panim el panim (face-to-face) and that most of this communication, from Vayikra onward, occurred in the Mishkan. The high degree of intimacy between God and Moses is further evidenced by the fact that God spoke only to Moses, as the divine voice was not audible outside the tent. Just as God connects intimately with Moses, through their encounter in the Mishkan, the korbanot, which are detailed in the remainder of the parasha, are God's ways of connecting with the Israelites and bringing them spiritually closer to him.
As Samson Raphael Hirsch wrote, in his 1878 Torah commentary, "It is most regrettable that we have no word which really reproduces the idea which lies in the expression korban. The unfortunate use of the term sacrifice implies giving up something that is of value to oneself for the benefit of another... The idea of offering ... presupposes a wish, a desire, on the part of the one to whom it is brought... But the idea of korban is far away from all this. It is used exclusively with reference to Man's relationship to God, and can only be understood from the meaning which lies in its root, KRV: to approach, to come near, and so to get into close relationship." This same root forms the Modern Hebrew word karov (close).
While the practice of sacrificial offerings came to an abrupt end with the destruction of the second Temple in 70 CE, the traditional Jewish prayer service parallels the order of the offerings in the Mishkan and Temple, and the words of our prayers now serve as offerings to God. Our korbanot, however, are not limited to prayer. As we learn in Pirke Avot 1:2: "On three things the world stands – on [the study of] Torah, on avodah (prayer or service to God) and on g'milut hasadim (deeds of loving kindness)."
This is indeed comforting, since many of us struggle to pray with kavanah (true intention) and to find meaning in our observance of Jewish ritual. Yet, through Limmud, we all have an opportunity to study Torah, in its broadest sense, and to move one step forward on our respective Jewish journeys. And through deeds of loving kindness – whether feeding the homeless at a soup kitchen, or raising money for Haitian earthquake victims – we can all participate in spiritual korbanot which are the embodiment of tikkun olam (repair of the world).
Another Voice - Raphael Sylvester
The parasha of Vayikra opens the book of the same name. Vayikra means "He [God] called" and this word opens God's address to Moses at the beginning of the gigantic manual of priestly laws and rituals that constitute the bulk of the book of Leviticus. Usually, God speaks to Moses; here, God calls to him and it is this particular choice of word that got me thinking. Why does God call to Moses, rather than speak to him?
Moses was a reluctant prophet. He experienced a calling, but resisted, considering himself unsuited to the task of national liberator. Recently, I have discovered myself enjoying a certain kind of fiction, the central characters of which very much do not experience a calling. Or if he does experience one, then he in no way acts on it. In "Fima" by Amos Oz, the hero is a failed, rather sleazy academic who wastes his days listening to the news, reading newspapers, indulging in political fantasies, annoying his friends and generally doing nothing at all. He is not obviously called to any great task, but this does not diminish him as a character or as a person.
School children are often encouraged to reflect early on their "calling", their vocation in life. For the group of students with which I spend most of my time, their ideas about their future calling in life are often wildly unrealistic, but few have the heart to tell this to them. On the other hand, what they get very little of in school is any serious attempt to help them reflect on the kind of people they would like to be. The focus is all on what subjects they will take, leading to what kinds of qualifications and which career. Perhaps if somebody made an attempt to redress the balance with some serious thought about what kind of person they can and would like to be, this might be a worthwhile project. For all of us, this task of reflecting on ourselves as people, the Torah (including the often obscure and challenging Sefer Vayikra), has the potential to serve as a guide and framework. But only if we respond to its call.