Rabbi Freedman’s Shabbat Message

There is no doubt that the key figure within the opening five books of the Bible is Moshe Rabbeinu.  Granted his name does not appear in Genesis, but from the time of his birth (Exodus 2:2) he is clearly the most prominent and influential personality in the Torah.  His leadership of the Israelites as they journeyed through the wilderness on their way to the Promised Land, together with his unique role as God’s Lawgiver ensured his place in history and it is therefore no surprise that his name is included in the title given to this section of Biblical literature: namely תּוֹרַת מֹשֶה – the Law of Moses.

 Nonetheless, when we study the third book of the Torah – the Book of Leviticus, which we begin reading this Shabbat, we discover a change of emphasis.  Moses’ leadership seems somewhat overshadowed by Aaron, the High Priest, as well as by those who inherited their priestly status from him – i.e. the Kohanim. 

 Take for example the name of the book.  Although this book is well known within Judaism as וַיִּקְרָא סֵפֶר (Vayikra), a name taken from the very first word of the book, it is more commonly entitled Leviticus, a word taken from the Greek, which in turn was derived from the original Hebrew title of the Book – סֵפֶר תּוֹרַת כֹּהַנִים The Law of the Priests.  

Then there are the references to Moses and Aaron within the book.  The name מֹשֶה (Moses) is found 85 times, while his brother’s name and title: אַהֲרֹן (Aaron), כֹּהֵן (Kohen) [and its plural form כֹּהַנִים (Kohanim)] are found 229 times.

This change of emphasis did not go unnoticed by scholars such as Jacob Milgrom, who argued that Leviticus introduced a new, symbolic form of religion.  Up to that point, a large number of laws had been introduced.  Some of these commandments known as Mishpatim /Ordinances were intended to protect the individual from other members of society, these laws can be best described as forming the civil and criminal code of Jewish Law. 

The remaining laws fell under the banner of ‘Ediyot’ or Testimonial Laws which served to enhance the Children of Israel’s understanding of Jewish history.  By observing Shabbat and the Festivals, as well as the Law of Circumcision, the Israelites could appreciate better who they were, where they had come from, and the role God had played in history, particularly their history.

However, with Leviticus came a new form of worship – sacrifice and atonement, purity and holiness, restriction and restraint in every facet of life including diet, farming, business, sexuality and speech.  These laws were made to remake the Jewish people into a nation that would forever stand apart from the other nations of the world, which would then through the art of ritual, learn, apply and teach ethical behavior on a global scale.

As Milgrom taught in his ground-breaking commentary on Leviticus, ritual is not performing an action for its own sake, but rather performing it as a means of deepening the relationship between humans and the Divine Spirit.  Hence the particular emphasis in Sefer Vayikra on the sacrificial system as implemented by the Kohanim.  These offerings were never to be considered an end in themselves, but rather a means to an end – and it was the prophets of Israel who understood this instinctively, which is why they were so critical of Jews who brought the korbanot (the sacrifices) without applying the lessons they were intended to teach. 

The word korban is often translated as an ‘offering’ but its real meaning is ‘closeness’ – for through the offering a Jew will come to appreciate the godliness within his own being and begin to act so.  A person in Biblical days, however, who attended to his Temple duties religiously, but failed to apply his godliness to the world around him was considered by the prophets at best hypocritical, and at worst corrupt, corrosive and contaminated with evil.

Fulfilling the rituals without first understanding their symbolism was, in Isaiah’s eyes, a cardinal sin; which is why at the end of a particularly critical outburst, Isaiah reminds the offender why they were given such strange practices to perform in the first place.  Ultimately, our duty, said the prophet, is moral rather than ceremonial; it is ethical rather than habitual.  The goal is not to slay an animal, nor to sprinkle its blood upon the altar, but rather –

לִמְד֥וּ הֵיטֵ֛ב דִּרְשׁ֥וּ מִשְׁפָּ֖ט אַשְּׁר֣וּ חָמ֑וֹץ שִׁפְט֣וּ יָת֔וֹם רִ֖יבוּ אַלְמָנָֽה

Learn from these rituals to do good; seek justice; rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan and plead for the widow.  (Isaiah 1:17)

Seen in this way – the difference between Vayikra and the other books of the Torah is not problematical, but inspirational.  Some of course do not agree and they have described Leviticus as tedious and challenging to modern readers due to its ancient format and archaic laws. 

I recall once reading a sermon written by an American rabbi, Rabbi Alan Klein.  He began his drosho with the following words:

April and May are very popular months for Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.  The weather is nice, but unfortunately, as anyone involved in planning them knows, there is one problem – the Book of Leviticus, which we read during these months; for it is, with the exception of a few chapters in the middle of the book, not very inspiring to your average teenager. 

 It is true that Leviticus is largely a compendium of rules and specifications about burnt animals and plant sacrifices, hereditary priesthood, creatures that Jews may or may not eat, various impure conditions that attach themselves to people, their clothes and homes, and even a lengthy diatribe against Jews threatening them with the most awful punishments if they step out of line!  Klein, a retired chaplain in the United States Air Force, concluded his article on the Book of Leviticus by suggesting that “a thoughtful rabbi can almost always find some subject to preach about, but the going gets a little rough for a nervous 12-or 13 year-old.”

 But looking at Vayikra in this way would be a mistake.  Above I suggested that ritual is a form of art – that being the case, to dismiss Vayikra simply because it expresses Judaism in a different way from the more prosaic, narrative sections of the Torah, is comparable to criticising art because it generates a different form of representation to what a camera would produce or what you feel your eye can see. 

 In recent weeks I have been watching a series on television entitled The World’s Greatest Paintings.  In this series, broadcaster and journalist Andrew Marr has examined the stories behind some of the most famous works of art ever devised: works of art by Leonardo da Vinci (Mona Lisa), Vincent Van Gogh (Sunflowers), John Constable (The Hay Wain) and Pablo Picasso (The Weeping Woman) among others that have featured in the programme. 

Through Marr’s passion for art and his knowledge of these great artists, I have come to appreciate these famous works all the more.  The artists lived in different centuries, used different materials and of course expressed themselves using different subjects, but as with a Rembrandt for example, when compared to a Turner, Vayikra in comparison to the other books of the Torah – has its own mystique, its own splendour and its own distinctive message expressed in its own unique way.

Humanity’s first encounter with the arts occurred in prehistoric times.  Archaeologists have uncovered, in the caves of Europe and the Middle East, ancient figurines and stone etchings of female figures, which symbolize fertility, and wall paintings which depict hunting.  An analysis of these ancient works has revealed that their aim was not to reproduce reality, but rather to represent it symbolically.  It is evident that the sculptor did not attempt to fashion the figurine in the precise form of a particular woman, but rather tried to create a symbolic representation of the feminine body.  So too the hunting scenes are comprised of schematic images of people alongside impressive drawings of various different animals.  Perhaps Vayikra is another example of that early genre where we have a symbolic representation of a reality that God wishes us to discover and then bring into our daily lives: holiness, purity, morality and sustainability.

In any event, Israel also experimented with the arts – the work of Bezalel in constructing and beautifying the Mishkan is probably the earliest example.  But following the exile of the Jews from Judea during Roman times, Jews did not have the same opportunities granted to other nations to create works of art and then sit and view them at leisure, often over many generations.  A people displaced and for ever on the move instead had to create something extraordinary that was entirely portable and if necessary could be committed to memory – so texts became our canvas, words the pigments employed, and meaning gave the reader a sense of wonder just as an image does for those who stand before it.

 For many religious Jews tractates of Mishna and masechtot of Talmud are the sublime Judaic example of spirituality, to be deconstructed, discussed and debated even more than Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. 

The intricacy of Rembrandt’s brushwork and the genius of the Impressionists are to be compared to the ingenious commentaries of the Tosafot, the comprehensive and thrilling works of the Rishonim (the most illustrious early Medieval rabbis) and the encyclopaedic, halakhic codes of the Acharonim (the sages of more recent centuries).  In this way, Jewish scholars have beautified the world, just as Cezanne, Monet and Renoir allowed their genius to flourish and inspire.

Of course there are other reasons why Judaism is somewhat sceptical about the visual arts.  Rabbi Sacks wrote that in general Judaism is unconvinced about appearances.  Worshipping the invisible God, Judaism tended to devalue the visible in favour of covenants and the oral and aural: words heard rather than appearances seen.  We are, after all, the People of the Book.  Nonetheless, in appreciating the spiritual endeavours that go into creating a work of art, whether viewed in a museum, or borrowed from a library, Rabbi Sacks added significantly that our entire life is the single greatest work of art we will ever make.  As such, he gave us much needed advice – that occasionally we need to step back from our life like an artist stepping back from the canvas, seeing what needs changing for the painting to be complete.

This is fine advice as we reach the third book of the Torah – read it carefully: at times step back and view it with some perspective, at other moments go up close to see the fine detail – either way appreciate the message, do not dismiss the book lightly and learn from the great teachers of Judaism why this book, of all books, is still considered so holy that the rabbis recommended it as a primer for our children.  Perhaps like art, its beauty is truly in the eyes of the beholder – none look with more inquisitiveness than children.  They are less critical and more readily pleased than the adults around them – for they can appreciate the colour, the texture, the image without ever having set foot in a university, a National Gallery or an Arts College – for children it is a simple, natural excitement and exuberance on seeing something so wondrous for the first time.  So as we come yet again to Sefer Vayikra with all its complex ideas and ancient themes – this is exactly how we too should approach the book to find within it messages of holiness that will continue to sustain our people for many years to come.

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi David Freedman