Tzav: the sacrificial symbolism of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch

Last week’s post examined the concept of animal sacrifice within Judaism, analysing Rambam’s controversial contention that these sacrifices were instituted in order to withdraw the emerging Jewish nation from its pagan associations. While Rabbi S. R. Hirsch does not subscribe to Rambam’s general position, he too takes 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. Instead, the term “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.

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed relating to parashat Tzav takes the reader on a journey of Hirschian symbolism which, despite its sacrificial focus, affords the reader a window through which to view some unique and enlightening aspects of R’ Hirsch’s religious philosophy. It shows how R’ Hirsch first assembles halachic details from both the written and oral components of the Torah before exploring reasons for mitzvot. This perspective allows him to demonstrate how, in stark contrast to pagan ritual which emphasises shedding blood in order to appease angry gods, the Jewish korban sees shechitah (slaughter) as fulfilling predominantly a preparatory role for the deeply symbolic acts which follow. In Rabbi Hirsch’s understanding – for which we find support in Rabbi Yehudah Halevi’s Kuzari and the Talmud – each corner of the altar and each detail of the sacrifice’s processing is infused with profound meaning and represents valuable moral and spiritual truths.

Our chapter also examines the Hirschian understanding of shechitah and its significance as the first stage of the korban process. R’ Hirsch explains 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 engaging the intellect and free will with which they are endowed. When consuming meat, however, a person is incorporating animal flesh—symbolizing 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 R’ Hirsch, can account for many of the detailed laws governing the shechitah process, which requires 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 may symbolize that one is approaching as a “human” who seeks to establish and maintain control of his physical urges. This mirrors another fundamental theme in R’ Hirsch’s works: that one must first 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.

The chapter proceeds to a broader analysis of the Hirschian approach of proposing symbolic rationales for the mitzvot. Citing prominent students of R’ Hirsch’s school of thought such as Rabbi Y. Y. Weinberg, we record criticisms made of the Hirschian approach by Reform thinkers who suggested that ritual practice could be jettisoned once its inherent symbolic message had been extracted and understood. For R’ Hirsch, however, repeated performance of a mitzvah provides more than a mere superficial awareness of an idea; rather, such repetition can inculcate a profound truth into the actor’s consciousness. The chapter concludes by presenting R’ Hirsch’s thoughts regarding the difficult balance between the individual’s licence to propose innovative avenues of Torah thought on the one hand, and the challenge of maintaining loyalty to an ancient tradition on the other.

First posted on Facebook 2 April 2020, here.

Blemished sacrifices, blemished religion

The chapter of Judaism Reclaimed which relates to parashat Emor opens by focusing on the laws of blemishes which disqualify kohanim and korbanot from the Mikdash service, before expanding into a broad discussion of the appropriate roles and interplay between emotion and intellect in Judaism.

The laws of blemishes are most simply understood as serving to enhance the honour and glory of the Mikdash and korbanot, since people have a natural tendency to respect institutions which present an impressive and immaculate appearance. Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, however, interprets these commands in the context of his broader approach to the Mikdash and korbanot. In doing so offers some profound insights. The overarching idea represented through the offering of an unblemished animal as a korban, he explains, is that of absolute dedication of one’s entire self—personality, capabilities, and aspirations—to God and His Torah. A defective limb in an animal which is being so dedicated carries the message that an aspect of the person’s personality is being excluded from this total commitment to God, a part of his life over which he intends to retain autonomy and place beyond the reach of the Torah’s commandments. Despite the practical reality of human frailty and imperfection, it is axiomatic that man must accept that the basis of his relationship with God be all-encompassing.

In a further explanation of the invalidity of both Kohanim and animals with blemishes, R’ Hirsch draws upon his perspective of the Mikdash and the role that it is intended to fulfil within the Jewish nation. Examining the function commonly played by religion and places of worship among the other nations, he writes:

Their priests and sanctuaries await the misfortune and grief of their believers…Religion to them is a consolation for the suffering and disadvantaged…[but]…does not hold sway in life that is vibrant and effervescent.

In Judaism, by contrast, the Mikdash represents its religious ideal: total commitment to God, not out of grief or a feeling of deficiency, but rather from recognition of the inherent goodness and truth of God and His Torah. This ideal of serving God positively through strength, joy and clarity of mind is represented by the requirement that all aspects of the Mikdash service, including the Kohanim who perform it and the korbanot which are to be offered, display the impression of “tamim” completeness. Judaism Reclaimed shows how this principle is strongly reflected by other laws such as the emphasis on light (Menorahs) in the Mikdash, where korbanot were offered only in daylight hours and in a state of total sobriety. This in stark contrast to the atmosphere of darkness, mystery, and fear which would typically prevail in pagan temples. Most striking, however, is the extent to which the Mikdash service and its priests are kept completely apart from any contact or association with death by the laws of tumah. This point is explored by Rabbi Simi Lerner in the second half of his superb weekly Rav Hirsch podcast http://www.ravhirsch.org/p/top-10-1473077106/.

R' Hirsch’s understanding of the Mikdash’s laws and service being intended to signal the ideal of worshipping God through strength, joy and clarity is built upon in the second half of the chapter. We draw upon the early section of Halakhic Man, where the Rav launches a stinging attack on the vacuous spirituality that he believed has crept into Judaism as an escape from rational doubts and challenges. Thus

“religion should ally itself with the forces of clear, logical cognition, as uniquely exemplified by the scientific method, even though at times the two may clash with one another, rather than pledge its troth to beclouded, mysterious ideologies that grope in the dark corners of existence, unaided by the shining light of objective knowledge, and believe that they have penetrated to the secret core of the world”

This he contrasts with halachah, a central pillar of Judaism, which requires a Jew to grapple constantly with the intricate and diverse elements of the world, using clear intellect to encompass within his intellect the will and wisdom of God.

The chapter concludes with a lengthy analysis of R’ Hirsch’s rejection of what he felt were two erroneous approaches to religion. First is the ultra-emotional emphasis which places the subjective “feeling of utter dependence on God” at the pinnacle of religious meaning. This approach, which was popularised by certain Christian movements in Germany in his day, was strongly rejected by R’ Hirsch, who sought to demonstrate that Judaism requires emotion and feeling to be subservient to its laws. Many who place R’ Hirsch and Rambam together in the category of “Rationalist Sages” are shocked to discover, however, that Rambam’s “Arab-Greek” philosophical worldview – which elevates the comprehension of Divine truths to an ultimate goal – is the subject of an even stronger critique from R’ Hirsch.

The Hirschian understanding of Judaism concludes that, while the Torah appeals to both human feeling and intellect, it is neither the sublime emotional experience nor abstract philosophical speculation of the Divine that represents the Torah’s ultimate goal. When utilized to comprehend and attach a person to the Torah’s laws and teachings, both intellect and emotion are enriched and can claim legitimacy. Any attempt, however, to elevate emotional experience or intellectual speculation to represent the Torah’s ultimate purpose, and by extension to subordinate the Torah’s commandments to the facilitation of this greater goal, is viewed by R’ Hirsch as an illegitimate intrusion on the sovereign status of Torah law.

First posted on Facebook 7 May 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.