vayikra
parasha VAYIKRA, LEVITICUS chapters 1—5
MENU
AND THOUGHTS…
Vayikra
He Called
He summoned in love.
When God summons Moshe, the word Vayikra has an alef as the last letter. When God summons Balaam, the alef is missing. Same pronunciation, different meaning. The difference? God calls to Moshe with love. Balaam…not so much.
And what does God summon Moshe to discuss?
What a topic for the beginning of a new book in the Torah! Animal Sacrifice!
I struggle with this parasha.
This is going to be a long musing. I hope you’ll sacrifice a few minutes to come with me on this journey of heart and mind as I explore this topic. If not, feel free to jump to about this menu, or to the menu itself.
In the book of Leviticus, Vayikra, God is almost always referred to by the four-letter tetragrammaton, the name that we pronounce as Adonai in prayer and HaShem (The Name) when conversing about God. The name Elohim only appears five times in the entire book. HaShem refers to God’s attribute of mercy; Elohim to God’s attribute of judgment.
So this tells us that sacrifices are about mercy, not judgement.
Animal sacrifice comes from a place of God’s mercy? Did I hear that correctly?
It doesn’t seem to demonstrate much mercy for the endless parade of animals, marching to their deaths.
I’m not alone in being troubled by the thought of animal sacrifice. For most of us who are troubled by it, that sentiment comes from feelings of compassion for animals.
In reaction to that emotional response, Rabbi Chanan Morrison writes, “…this objection contains a measure of hypocrisy. Why should compassion for animals only be expressed with regard to humanity’s spiritual needs?’
In other words, consider that by eating meat, and by using animal products that require the death of the animal—such as leather and fur—we are saying that we approve of using animals to satisfy our physical needs (And in truth, these are not needs. They are desires. One does not need these things to live), but disapprove of taking their lives to satisfy our spiritual needs.
Maybe the disconnect is that when we think of animal sacrifice, we envision an individual animal standing in the courtyard waiting for its throat to be slit. We think about the fear the animal must be experiencing. We think of the poor creature having its God-given life cut short. But when we think about dinner, we’re not thinking about Old Bessie standing happily in the sunshine, nibbling on grass in the field, and then suddenly being led away to have her throat cut and her flesh divided into steaks. We’re just looking at a slab of brown stuff in the supermarket, on a foam tray that’s covered in plastic wrap. That’s not an animal! That’s meat!
Rabbi Morrison writes, “In the world’s present state, the human race is weak, both physically and morally. The hour to protect animal life has not yet arrived. … At this point in time, to advocate the protection of animals in our service of God is disingenuous. (again) Is it moral to permit cruelty towards animals for our physical needs, yet forbid their use for our spiritual service, in sincere recognition and gratitude for God's kindness? If our dedication and love for God can be expressed - at its highest level — with our willingness to surrender our own lives and die "al kiddush Hashem," sanctifying God's name, then certainly we should be willing to forgo the life of animals for this sublime goal.”
But the way I see it, the keyword there is willingness. If I’m willing to surrender my life and die to sanctify God’s name, that’s my choice. The animal is given no such choice.
And the counter argument is that human life has more value than animal life.
So say some of us. Does the crocodile agree?
At this point in time alludes to a future when humanity will have evolved and the idea of killing animals for our personal use will be unthinkable. Alas, “The hour to protect animal life has not yet arrived.”
Some of us are already there. There are vegetarians who say that they’ve made that lifestyle choice because it’s a healthier way to eat, or because it’s better for the planet. And while both of those reasons are valid, the vast majority of them say that their primary reason for being vegetarian is out of compassion for animals.
It’s something I struggle with personally. I eat vegetarian about three quarters of the time, for all three of the reasons mentioned above, but not 100% of the time. As a food lover, I enjoy meat. As a cook, I don’t like having a limited palette to paint with.
But I did make the choice to go kosher, so I might, in time, get there. That hour has not yet come for me.
When I do eat meat, or products from animals such as eggs and dairy, I’m adamant about using free range, ethically treated animals (is the eating of animals ever truly ethical?) that have lived natural animal lives. I will not eat torture and I will not contribute to the torture of animals.
Translations from Hebrew to English are troublesome because the connotation of a word or phrase is sometimes lost in the pursuit of denotation. The word korban is an example. It’s most often translated as sacrifice, but a better, closer translation is offering.
The instructions for how to sacrifice animals are very detailed. The type of animals that are acceptable, their physical condition, the way they are killed, and what is to be done with the blood and the parts of the animal, all of these are carefully outlined.
Then there is the issue of the reason for the sacrifice. We’ve got burnt offerings, sin offerings, peace offerings, guilt offerings. All of them are described as offerings. They must be offered, be brought willingly, in order to be acceptable to God.
As I’ve pointed out in some of my other writings, we have to resist the temptation to apply today’s standards to the past. Animal sacrifice was the norm. Ancient people couldn’t imagine worshiping God without it. God knew we were not ready to give up the practice, so instead we were permitted to perform animal sacrifice in a very limited way. But the ancient Israelites related to the practice differently from their pagan neighbors. We were not trying to appease a God who was out to get us. We didn’t perform sacrifices out of fear. We saw it as a way to come closer to God, to deepen our relationship, our connection with the divine. We performed sacrifices out of love.
In the time when the Torah was given, these detailed and specific rules for animal sacrifice were unheard of among other peoples. Human sacrifice was absolutely forbidden to the Israelites. Sacrifices were permitted only in the mishkan when we were in the desert, and later only in the Temple in Jerusalem, where the holiness of the location put us in the mindset to revere the solemnity of the act and the lives of the animals. According to Maimonides, animal sacrifices, carried out in the proscribed way, helped wean the Jews away from these barbaric pagan rituals. And this was God’s plan.
In 70 C.E. when the Temple fell at the hands of the Romans, the sacrificing of animals ceased. The ritual was replaced by repentance, prayer, charity, and a life of ma’asim tovim, good deeds.
Some rabbis believe that when the Third Temple is built in the messianic age, animal sacrifice will be reinstated. Others believe that humanity will have evolved beyond the need for this, and in the Third Temple, there will be only agricultural offerings. I’m in the latter camp. The idea of reinstating animal sacrifice is illogical because it goes against what is acceptable in our modern world. Most people would be horrified by it and animal activists would blow a gasket.
But what if sacrifice has a broader meaning than the slaughter of livestock? What sort of offering does God want from us?
To sacrifice is to give something up for someone or something we love. Parents sacrifice for their children, lovers sacrifice for each other, we make sacrifices for causes that are close to our hearts. Our ancestors were farmers, and so they sacrificed that which they worked hard to produce—livestock and agricultural products—to show their love and loyalty to God.
Most of us can’t go out back and choose an animal from our flock or press oil from our olive trees. So, what is it that we have that we can sacrifice? We can give money. We can also slow down and let that other driver get into the lane in front of us. We can speak out when we see something unjust. We can let the old woman with just a few items go ahead of us in the check-out line. We can bake something for a friend who’s having a rough day.
Many of our prophets have alluded to a great future. Through them, God makes it quite clear that this form of worship is not what God wants.
Isaiah says (1: 11-18) "What are your multiplied sacrifices to Me? says the Lord. I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams, and the fat of fed cattle. And I take no pleasure in the blood of bulls, lambs, or goats...Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; remove the evil of your deeds from My sight. Cease to do evil, Learn to do good; seek justice, reprove the ruthless, defend the orphan, plead for the widow. Come let us reason together says the Lord, `Though your sins are as scarlet, they will be white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they will be like wool, if you consent and obey..."
And in Ecclesiastes 3:19-21 we read, “For that which befalls the sons of men befalls animals; even one thing befalls them; as the one dies, so dies the other; yes, they all have one breath; so that man has no preeminence above an animal; for all is vanity. All go to one place; all are of the dust. Who knows the spirit of men whether it goes upward; and the spirit of the animal whether it goes downward to the earth?”
The prophet Micah tells us what God does want of us, in such a beautiful, poetic way..
With what shall I approach God,
Do homage to God on high?
Shall I approach with burnt offerings,
With calves a year old?
Would God be pleased with thousands of rams,
With myriads of streams of oil?
Shall I give my first-born for my transgression,
The fruit of my body for my sins?
“You have been told, O mortal, what is good,
And what God requires of you:
Only to do justice
And to love goodness,
And to walk modestly with your God…”
Rabbi Kook believed that the future Messianic period will be vegetarian. He based this on the words of Isaiah (11:69): "...the wolf will dwell with the lamb...the lion will eat straw like the ox...and no one shall hurt or destroy in all of God's holy mountain.
When we received the Torah on Mount Sinai we were given the laws of kosher, of what animals we may eat and how we may eat them. Meat eating was permitted as a concession, but strictly limited.
But the very first dietary law was given to humans in the Garden of Eden: And God said: "Behold, I have given you every herb yielding seed which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed--to you it shall be for food." (Beresheet 1:29)
So, what shall we eat?
We’re told we should experience Shabbat as if the world were already perfected. We’ve now seen that when the messianic age arrives, when our Holy Temple is built anew, we will have all evolved to the point where we want to return to the diet of perfection, the diet of Eden. So, for this Shabbat, let’s all of us eat as though we’ve already arrived.
Unlike what some people think, vegetarian meals aren’t limited to salads and boiled grains. The possibilities of crafting meatless meals are endless. Granted, it may take a bit more effort than popping a slab of meat into the oven or a frying pan, but a beautifully colorful plate can be appetizing, very enjoyable, nutritionally complete, and totally satisfying. Like in any style of cooking, vegetarian meals can be simple or elaborate.
But it’s Shabbat! Let’s go all out!
I’m going to start with a soup that’s intensely flavorful, but not too filling. This classic onion soup recipe is a simple one—not the dish we all know and love, that’s covered in melted compté over a crusty crouton. I’m going to save that one for another day. This is just onions and apples in a broth that’s made from vegetable stock and Madeira wine (don’t worry about the kids; there’s no alcohol in the finished soup).
We’ll follow the soup with a creamy mushroom risotto. Super elegant and, contrary to what some people fear, it’s super simple to make. Just start with a proper Italian risotto rice, such as Arborio or Carnaroli, and stir, stir, stir. The short round shape and starchiness of the grains are what creates the creamy texture that separates risotto from a bowl of rice. The rich earthy goodness comes from adding as many types of mushrooms as you can get your hands on.
For the centerpiece, I’m going to go with a hasselback butternut squash, both savory and sweet, roasted with Middle Eastern spices and finished with chopped hazelnuts. Mashed potatoes finished with truffle oil will remind us of the mushrooms we’ve just enjoyed in the last course. We’ll top them with crispy butternut squash chips baked in hazelnut oil, dusted with smoked paprika, and finished with a gorgeous black lava salt—just so there’s no doubt that the potatoes and hasselback squash are friends.
Did you know? All varieties of squash are actually fruits, not vegetables, as they grow from the flower of the plant.
Roasted brussels sprouts have become trendy, and for good reason. Unlike those insipid, mushy, boiled, grayish globes of my childhood, they have a great texture and are beautiful to behold. I make them even more fabulous with a special technique and lots of flavor.
And…
What could be more colorful than beets? I’m double cooking them—first roasting them until tender and then sautéing them with chickpeas and a fresh orange glaze, and serving them with their greens, sautéed with garlic and fresh herbs. (I always buy organic beets when I’m using their greens.)
Now we’ve got a breathtaking plate of orange, white, red, and green. Is anyone even missing the meat right now? I know I’m not!
And…
Dessert
I’m going to go with a silky chocolate pudding served in martini glasses, with a pirouette cookie as a garnish.