Purposes and pitfalls of repeated rituals

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Tetzaveh exploresa number of activities, such as lighting the menorah and daily korbanot, with which the daily Mishkan workload was scheduled to start and conclude. Several of these activities attract the description 'tamid', which means ‘constant’; a term which sits uncomfortably with the reality that these activities were performed only once or twice a day, in the morning and evening. This difficulty is highlighted by the observation of Rashi, at the start of our parashah, that regular daily events can attract the term tamideven if they are not continuous. Why should this be?

One explanation of Rashi's statement is that the use of the term tamid to describe regular but non-constant activities provides us with a fundamental insight into how the dynamics of these cyclical events are viewed from the Torah's perspective. The opening and closing ceremonies of the Mishkan’s daily routine were not intended merely to supply an element of solemnity or grandeur. Rather, they contextualise and grant legitimacy to everything that happens during the span of time that passes between them. By validating the various offerings that were brought throughout the day, the opening and closing activities can be seen to exert a constant influence and thereby justify the Torah's description of them as tamid.

The burnt Tamid offerings, which open and close the daily sacrifices, are explained by Rabbi S. R. Hirsch as representing Judaism's delicate balance between the interests of the nation and the individual. In order for an individual's private korban to be valid, it must be offered in the time-space between these two public Temidim. This symbolises that, while Judaism provides space for individual expressions of worship, such expressions must acknowledge and respect the boundaries set by the Community.

R’ Hirsch cites Talmudic sources which describe how the Sadducees could not accept the public spirit of the Tamid offering, leading them to reject the notion that it is an obligatory national offering. The Sadducees, he continues, maintained that Jews can connect themselves to God only through the written letter of the Torah which is equally accessible to all, and that each individual is empowered to interpret and reject aspects of the Torah as he sees fit. This approach was mirrored by their rejection of the entire concept that halachah, as determined by the Sages, could regulate the efforts of an individual who is seeking to draw close to God through a korban.

Even though the Temidim were offered only twice daily, the description of 'constant' was thus justified by the crucial context they provided for all of the intervening private korbanot. The principle that the subjective religious expression of individuals must accord with the values of the Nation of God, to whom the Torah and its teachings were entrusted.

The menorah's light is understood in both midrashic and kabbalistic literature to represent the 'illumination' provided by the Torah's wisdom. Through the daily kindling of the Menorah, the Torah emphasises that the korban rituals are beneficial only when they are performed in a way that is consistent with the Torah's spirit and teachings.

Rituals, when practised without a proper understanding of their meaning and significance, have an unfortunate tendency to be stripped of their profound spiritual meaning. While it is true that the performance of all mitzvotis enhanced through a deeper understanding of their underlying meaning, awareness of the purpose and function of korbanot is particularly crucial. This is seen from the fact that manner of offering korbanot was repeatedly singled out for criticism by the prophets, who protested that the korban was being reduced to a superstitious ritual that was merely intended to appease God and persuade Him to ignore their sins. In view of this very real risk – that the korban may ultimately distance people from God rather than drawing them close - we can understand why the daily Mishkan service required the constant influence of the Menorah’s light to provide an essential context. An ongoing illuminating reminder for the entire sacrificial service.

The chapter proceeds to discuss the concept of ‘tamid’as it applies to other concepts in Judaism including the ‘constant commandments’ (mitzvot temidiyot), the obligation of Torah study and God’s ‘constant’ renewal of the world.

First posted on Facebook 5 March 2020, here.

Vayikra, sacrifice, or sacrilege? Rambam's korban controversy

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Vayikra focuses on Rambam’s radical approach to the institution of sacrifices. Rambam understands that korbanot were legislated as a practical means of aiding the Jews’ transition from the heavily pagan mindset that they had absorbed in Egypt toward the monotheistic concepts of a single, all-powerful Deity. God knew that it was far beyond the capabilities of His nascent nation to relate to Him without resorting to the sacrificial rites which were then inseparable from religious practice. Rambam suggests that this would be like asking people in his time to imagine a religion without prayer or synagogue, being based just on an intellectual attachment to God.

God therefore incorporated sacrificial offerings within Judaism, carefully denuding them of the bloodthirsty and immoral associations that were prevalent in ancient pagan worship (more on that in next week’s post). The aim was to diminish, gradually, the significance of sacrifice within the nation’s religious worship as the Jews became capable of a more sophisticated conception of and connection to God.

Ramban (Nachmanides) launches a stinging attack against the “empty and damaging” approach of Rambam which includes powerful questions such as the fact that sacrifices can be seen to predate the phenomenon of idolatry in the Torah, rather than being a reaction to it, and the Torah’s description of sacrifices producing “a pleasing aroma” for God (implying a positive purpose rather than a necessary concession). Further question emerge from within Rambam’s own works: On the one hand he states unequivocally that that the entire purpose of the Torah’s commanding of korbanot is in order to withdraw the Jewish People from harmful forms of worship, rather than for any inherent purpose or benefit that the korbanot might positively confer. Yet a few chapters later Rambam describes how various categories of sacrifices can provide atonement –an apparent positive function of the korbanot. Furthermore, in Hilchot Melachim, Rambam emphasises that animal sacrifices will be restored in the utopian, non-idolatrous Messianic era – a question left open by earlier authorities.

Judaism Reclaimed draws upon an array of earlier sources including Abarbanel and Ritva to compile a defence and develop a more profound understanding of Rambam’s position. Most interesting are the concluding comments of Ritva (Rabbi YomTov of Sevilla) who, despite being a student of Nachmanides, is critical of his teacher for being unable to detach himself from his mystical worldview in order to appreciate the wisdom inherent in Rambam’s approach. Ritva’s words echo a major theme of Judaism Reclaimed, a book which strives to understand various commentaries within the context of their broader worldview before comparing and contrasting their conclusions.

First posted to Facebook 26 March 2020, here.

"Sacrifice" and the tragedy of Torah translation

One of the reasons for our national fast on the tenth of Tevet, the rabbis teach us, is that the Torah was translated into Greek. Particularly for those of us who have grown up with our favoured English Torah translations, this may be a hard idea to connect to.

There is an old adage, however, that every translation contains elements of interpretation too. In the case of the Torah, we may have so comprehensively internalised the translated meaning that we no longer realise how distant it may be from God’s original intention.

Judaism Reclaimed examines the word “korban”, in this context. Rabbi S. R. Hirsch goes to great pains to point out how the Jewish conception of 'korban' is fundamentally different from pagan ritual. This difference, he explains, is represented by the term 'korban' itself, which is from the root 'lekarev' — to draw near. Common translations of ‘korban’ such as 'offering' or 'sacrifice', do not accurately convey the Hebrew term, and promote the popular misconception that korbanot are intended to appease or placate higher powers.

The (Latin) Vulgate employs the term oblatio an offering, while the (Greek) Septuagint uses doron (a gift or votive offering). Modern western languages follow from these inadequate attempts to translate the Torah, neither of which conveys the fundamental notion of ‘drawing close’. While the term ‘sacrifice’ implies destruction in order to placate, and 'offering' implies a prior need on behalf of the receiver, 'lekarev'focuses upon the need of the 'makriv'—the person bringing the korban — to draw close and dedicate all aspects of that person and his or her personality to God and His Torah.

Rav Hirsch develops this distinction between the Jewish korban and pagan sacrifice further, focusing on their respective procedures for slaughtering the animal. Slaughter, Rav Hirsch writes, is the focal point of idolatrous pagan rituals, with an emphasis on the killing and destruction of a living creature in order to satiate the bloodthirsty lusts of angry and vengeful gods. The Torah takes great care to distance itself from such heathen rites and ideologies by downgrading the significance of shechitah within the korban procedure: a Mishna (Zevachim 32) teaches that shechitah is the only part of the Mikdash service which is valid even when performed by non-kohanim, women, slaves and the ritually impure. Another Gemara (Zevachim 14b) goes so far as to state that shechitah is not really part of the korban process altogether.

An examination of Rav Hirsch's general approach to shechitah reveals a great symbolic depth to its preparatory role with regard to the bringing of korbanot. Rav Hirsch notes that, while humans and animals bear many superficial similarities, the process of shechitah highlights the crucial distinction between the essence and purpose of mankind and that of the animal kingdom. Unlike animals, humans possess both intellect and free will. The challenge facing them is how to control the instincts and urges which arise from their physical nature by means of the intellect and free will with which they are endowed. When consuming meat however, a person is incorporating animal flesh — symbolising unrestrained physical instincts and urges — into his own body. The Torah therefore requires that such eating be preceded and prepared for through the act of shechitah, which represents the mastery and control of the human mind over the realm of animalistic physicality.

This theory, explains Rav Hirsch, can account for many of the detailed laws governing the shechitah process. Shechitah is only valid when it is performed by the gentle movement of a sharp knife across the animal's throat, severing both the oesophagus and the wind-pipe and causing an instant loss of consciousness followed by death. Any involvement of pressure (derisah) or tearing (ikur), these being methods typically employed by animals to kill their prey, instantly invalidates the entire process and renders the animal a "neveilah", fit only for animal consumption ("lakelev tashlichun"). The careful precision required in cutting the animal's vital pipes involves a degree of subtlety and control that is unique to mankind. This teaches a powerful lesson: the animal material that will be absorbed within the human body must be subservient to the free will of the human intellect, no longer governed by the forces of purely physical compulsion.

When one approaches God's Mikdash in order "lekarev", to draw close to Him by bringing a korban, the fact that the process is initiated through shechitah symbolises that one is approaching as a 'human' — but one who seeks to establish and maintain control of his physical urges. This mirrors another fundamental theme in Rav Hirsch's works: that one must "be a mensch — a decent human being, before attempting to be a Jew"; first acquiring humane virtues and only then proceeding to pursue spiritual proximity to God. Avraham, with whom the founding covenant of Judaism was sealed, and Moshe, the great leader and lawgiver, both spent many decades caring for others and championing the cause of the oppressed before receiving their unique revelations and missions. This demonstrates that moral virtue is a fundamental value that must precede and subsequently underpin one's entire relationship with God. Without being an ethical person, as the prophets teach, any attempt at spiritual excellence is futile.

In a similar vein, just as one's social interaction with fellow humans must be perfected before seeking to scale the spiritual heights, so too should 'human' control over one's animalistic urges be seen as a crucial condition to be met before even seeking to draw close to God through a korban. The preparatory status of shechitah within the korban process therefore performs a dual function: it rejects the notion that korbanot are synonymous with pagan appeasement of bloodthirsty gods, while positively signifying that one must first assert control over his physical urges and instincts before approaching the spiritual domain of the Mikdash and its korbanot.

This is a crucial symbolic message and function of korbanot that those who are limited to a translation of the Torah are in danger of missing out on completely.

More about Judaism Reclaimed: Philosophy and Theology in the Torah can be found at www.JudaismReclaimed.com.

First posted on Facebook 26 March 2023, here.

The role and relevance of Korbanot: then and now

With the inauguration of the Mishkan nearing its completion, a final set of korbanot is set to be brought as part of its ceremonial designation as a “Tent of Meeting” between God and the Israelites. It is on these verses that Rabbi S. R. Hirsch makes a particularly sharp observation. Noting that, after these korbanot are brought, Moshe and Aharon then enter the Mishkan and recite blessings and prayers – at which point God’s glory appears – he writes that:

“God’s Presence, however, did not appear immediately upon the completion of the offerings. If that had happened, it might have lent credence to the pagan superstition that in the offering procedures there is a mysterious quality that has a magical effect upon God and produces an appearance of God to man, in a kind of physical cause-and-effect.”

The ritual nature of korbanot and their superficial similarity to pagan sacrifices meant that it was extremely important to tightly control this area of divine worship. Rabbi Yehuda HaLevi argues in the first section of his Kuzari that performance of all commandments must be dictated by careful consideration of halachah rather than enthusiastic embracing of what subjectively “feels right”. This is particularly true of korbanot, where a thin line separates legitimate service of God – within which korbanot express one’s total dedication to God – from attempting to innovate rituals and thereby producing, as Rav Hirsch described, a magical and superstitious effect upon God.

Talmud Reclaimed explores another dimension of this need for precision in korbanot. The opening section of the book analyses the structure of biblical law, which is often sparse in terms of explicit scriptural instruction – with further details supplied by the oral tradition and rabbinic legislation (through the authority of a Sanhedrin).

The copious details of lengthy biblical passages dedicated to the construction of the Mishkan and the sacrificial service which was performed there is therefore highly unusual. One possible reason for this relates to Rambam’s explanation of korbanot in his Moreh Nevuchim. 

In the understanding of Rambam, the primary function of korbanot was to wean the ancient Israelites off pagan thought and ritual towards a monotheistic faith and form of worship. For this to be effective, a very careful balance had to be struck: on the one hand the korbanot rituals had to be sufficiently similar to familiar forms of worship, while on the other hand crucial theological and practical distinctions were necessary to distance the Israelites from paganism. This means that in the area of korbanot – unlike other mitzvot – relatively more details were explicitly commanded to ensure that the balance not be disrupted. 

I’ve received numerous comments and questions over the years as to the relevance of Rambam’s reason for korbanot in the modern era: surely we, with our sophisticated 21st century mindset, don’t require any sacrificial assistance to divest ourselves of pagan proclivities? These comments tend to get me wondering what Rambam would make of the state of Judaism today and its idiosyncrasies. Of mass pilgrimages to graves. Of strange segullot and dancing around bonfires at Rashbi’s grave. Perhaps, in Rambam’s estimation, a return of the divinely-ordained and tightly controlled order of korbanot might help reduce the experiential attraction of some of these practices?

See more at www.TalmudReclaimed.com.

First posted on Facebook 7 April 2024, here.

A rabbinic response to sacrificial price gouging

Attempts to identify external motive behind rabbinic interpretations or applications of hermeneutical derashot typically produce claims and theories which rely on a great deal of speculation. Taken at face value, legislative disputes among the sages seem to be based almost exclusively upon their contrasting assessments as to which application of Talmudic logic and rules of scriptural interpretation is deemed the most persuasive. As Talmud Reclaimed explores, however, the Sanhedrin was also required to consider the needs of the generation when processing and voting on these details of biblical law. 

Consider these words of the Yad Malachi (a similar principle emerges from the Meshech Chochma): 

“Regarding middot and other interpretative tools through which the Torah is expounded: new laws were formulated throughout the generations according to the needs of the times, and they directed them in the form of full derashot in accordance with transmitted principles.” 

The difficulty which remains for us is to determine how and to what extent practical considerations and needs of the generation were balanced with the purely logical and interpretive principles and arguments which appear to dominate the Midrashei Halacha? 

One of the most insightful and illustrative examples in rabbinic literature relates to a law which we read about at the start of yesterday’s parashah. The parshiyot of Tazria and Metzorah describe the korbanot that a woman is required to bring after giving birth, miscarrying or being subject to certain forms of bodily discharge. It would seem that many families who lived far from Jerusalem would only visit the Mikdash on relatively rare occasions – presumably around a pilgrimage festival. The pressing question therefore emerged: For a woman who has experienced multiple births, miscarriages or discharges, is she obliged to bring an additional korban for each distinct obligation or does it suffice for her to offer a single combined korban for all of them? 

As understood by the Gemara (Keritot 8a), each of these positions is advanced by one set of Tannaim, supported by their respective applications of standard Talmudic hermeneutical principles in order to derive this new law from existing precedents. The law initially appears to have been established by the Sanhedrin in accordance with the stricter interpretation, which required a far greater number of korbanot to be brought by these women. What then transpired is related by a Mishnah there: 

It happened in Jerusalem that the price of a pair of doves rose to a golden denar. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel said: By this sanctuary, I shall not go to sleep tonight before they cost but a [silver] denar! Then he entered the court and taught: if a woman had five certain births or five discharges she needs to bring only one offering, and she may then eat sacrifices, and she is not liable to bring the other [offerings]. Thereupon the price of a pair of birds stood at a quarter of a [silver] denar each. 

As understood by a number of Rishonim to this passage, Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel reacted to the extortionate pricing of doves by re-entering the Sanhedrin and persuading his colleagues to rule instead according to the more lenient derashah. If this is all correct it provides us with a key insight into how the Sanhedrin combined Talmudic wisdom and practical expediency in reaching their conclusions. Yes – it is true – that Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel and his Sanhedrin were prepared to reverse their initial ruling in order to make the sacrificial obligation affordable for women. But crucially, both the initial stricter interpretation as well as the subsequent more lenient retraction were in line with pre-existing Tannaic derashot, therefore both fitting within the parameters of legitimate legislative possibility.

First posted on Facebook 16 April 2024, here.