For the readers of the Torah who seek simplicity, Parshat Vayikra may be read as one of the most irrelevant parashot of the Torah. After all it speaks in detail about the procedures of sacrifices at the altar (Mizbeach) and about the roles of the Cohanim and Levi’im, which are practices that were largely abandoned by Judaism nearly two thousand years ago. However, paradoxically, the relevance of this Parsha stems precisely from its seeming irrelevance, as it guides us to a crucial significance of mutual respect in our community even among the farthest extremes of outlooks.
The context, in a nutshell, is that in previous and coming Parashot the people of Israel are commanded to build a mobile sanctuary, Mishkan (Tabernacle), which will serve as the center of their religious and communal life. In addition, a religious elite of Cohanim and Levi’im is mandated to serve the Mishkan and later the Mikdash (Temple), and their status is to be eternally preserved along the patrilineal father-to-son line. Furthermore, the People of Israel are to carry the Mishkan to the Land of Israel and to establish a permanent house for it once they settle the land. Fast forward, forty years later, the People of Israel enter the Land of Israel with the MIshkan, also known as the Ark of the Covenant (Aron Ha’Brit), and a few turbulent centuries later, circa 950 BCE, King Solomon builds the Temple in Jerusalem to serve as a permanent home for the Aron Ha’Brit and as a central place of worship for the Jewish People. That temple is destroyed in roughly 370 years later, in 586 BCE and then rebuilt around 516 BCE to be destroyed again in 70 CE. Thus, notwithstanding a short interruption of about seventy years, the Israelites had a temple-centered existence for nearly one thousand years.
However, the vision of Temple-based Jewish spirituality and ethical society did not materialize. Over time, and certainly during the later Second Temple Era under the Chashmonaic Dynasty, the Temple turned into a source of political power and therefore into a subject of power struggles among competing factions, while the Cohanim turned from holy priests into pawns in the battles among ambitious rulers and their aspiring rivals. At that point, the sacrifices and donations to the Temple were no longer a symbol of religious devotion but rather a source of corruption and a means for political influence.
Nonetheless, upon the destruction of the Second Temple, the Jewish People faced an excruciating challenge: not only was the keystone of its religious existence and the symbol of its sovereignty demolished, but also an entire social order disintegrated, as the elite of the Cohanim lost its source of power and multiple practices that centered around the Temple, such as sacrifices and pilgrimage, suddenly became irrelevant. Not surprisingly, by that point, the sages, who were the spiritual leaders of the community, had mixed positions regarding the preservation of the temple-centered corrupted societal order. That ambivalence is captured in the story of Raban Yochanan Ben Zachai, who met Vespasian, the Commander of the Roman Legion, which was besieging Jerusalem. Ben-Zachai prophesized to Vespasian about his imminent ascendance to Cesar of Rome. In return, Vespasian asked Ben-Zachai for his wish. The ensuing request was not to save Jerusalem or the Temple, but rather to spare Yavne and its sages.
Henceforth, Ben-Zachai and the sages of Yavne would reinvent Judaism into a mobile and agile civilization, which exists without sovereignty or a central religious institution. Against the desire of some leaders to hold on to existing traditions and therefore to condemn the community to a futile existence of mourning, they strove to reinvent Judaism in a condition of non-sovereignty and in the absence of a Temple. As Rabbi Benny Lau describes in his monumental work, Chachamim (Sages), they sought to eternalize the memory of the Mikdash, while allowing Jewish life to continue. They, and their descendants, did so by introducing countless customs (Minhagim) that later turned into law (Halachot), some of which we follow until today, such as a regular prayer cycle, symbolic reenactment of the work of the sacrifices every Friday night on the Shabbat table and the transition from sacrifices to tzdakah.
That revolution, which ushered in the era of rabbinical Judaism, is one of the most remarkable and resilient societal transformations of human history. Its astonishing success stems from its ability to withstand not only the catastrophe of the destruction of the Second Temple, but also to establish a system that could withstand the dramatic political, social and technological changes that affected the Jewish People ever since. As was articulated a few weeks ago, this revolution has the capacity to even allow for meaningful Jewish existence on Mars, when such reality emerges.
So, how did that revolution come about? In a nutshell, the school that believed in the legitimacy to interpret the Torah in order to make it relevant emerged in the second century BCE and was later led by Hillel the Elder, who came to the Land of Israel from the great Diaspora of that time in Persia. His outlook was crystallized by the legacy of the challenges and experiences of Jewish communities in that Diaspora, who were living in the absence of sovereignty and in a distance from Jerusalem and the Temple. That condition required them to create the capacity to innovate, which was later brought by Hillel to the Land of Israel. However, the outlook of the Pharisees was considered heresy by the Cohanim and the ruling elites of the time, who were known as Sadducees, who upheld a lateral implementation of the commandments of the Torah. That outlook was also self-serving in that it preserved their power and protected the existing order of the time which nourished them.
For nearly two centuries Pharisees and the Sadducees competed for shaping the outlook of the People of Israel and for the power to shape its destiny. Initially, the Pharisees were a small minority, but gradually, as the Sadducees were increasingly corrupted, their appeal and power grew. By the time of the destruction of the Temple, the Pharisees were believed to be the majority and were ready to seize the opportunity-created-by-catastrophe and take over the leadership of the Jewish People. Thereafter, they radically transformed Judaism, reinventing it as a mobile and agile civilization and religion, and therefore seemingly condemning the commandments of Vayikra to obscurity.
There are a highly relevant lessons in this tale of Jewish history. The first is that Judaism is vindictive against the elites that fail it. Prior to the destruction of the Temple, the Cohanim were the source of religious power and the leaders of religious practice. Afterwards, those powers were irreversibly taken by the rabbis. This lesson should be remembered every time that a rabbi invites the Cohanim to the Bimah to deliver their Birkat Cohanim. As much as this should be a moment of memory of the Mikdash and inspiration for a brighter future, it is should also a symbolic warning to existing elites: if you fail the Jewish People, you too will be marginalized to sidelined symbolism.
The second lesson is that as Judaism evolves, it loses not only some of its most progressive factions, but also some of its most orthodox. The Sadducees, the Essenes and the Karaite Jews are three examples of communities whose ideological rigidity condemned them to obscurity or even absolute disappearance. The notion that orthodoxy survives and reforming factions disappears it historically false. In fact, the evolution of the Jewish People stems from the on-going interplay among reforming and orthodox communities, as the secret source of our collective survival stems from the way in which we blend innovation and tradition within a societal whole.
The third lesson is that Judaism actually has the capacity to abort traditions that are no longer relevant. That radical capability emanates from the verse: “et la’asot le’HaShem haferu toratecha” (Psalms, 119: 126), which means that sometimes the service of God requires putting in abeyance the commandments of the Torah. In fact, our history includes a few such revolutions, such as the transition from patrilineal father-to-son to matrilineal mother-to-child descent or the writing of the Oral Torah. Another such potentially-incubating revolution regards the role of women and the growing circles where rabbinical and cantorial positions are open to them.
Finally, we must remember that the most radical reforming views of today may become, over time, mainstream and even orthodoxy, turning practices that seem outrageous into Minhagim and Halachot. Indeed, our tradition recognizes that possibility by introducing the notion that in some cases two diametrically opposed views can be the words of God as said: “elle ve’elle divrei elokim haim” if they are held in the service of God, truth and the community. In other words, yet again, the full picture of our history should guide us to intellectual modesty and to mutual respect across the full spectrum of our community, as we quest to serve the significant existence of our people.
Parshat Vayikra: The Radical Reinvention of Judaism
For the readers of the Torah who seek simplicity, Parshat Vayikra may be read as one of the most irrelevant parashot of the Torah. After all it speaks in detail about the procedures of sacrifices at the altar (Mizbeach) and about the roles of the Cohanim and Levi’im, which are practices that were largely abandoned by Judaism nearly two thousand years ago. However, paradoxically, the relevance of this Parsha stems precisely from its seeming irrelevance, as it guides us to a crucial significance of mutual respect in our community even among the farthest extremes of outlooks.
The context, in a nutshell, is that in previous and coming Parashot the people of Israel are commanded to build a mobile sanctuary, Mishkan (Tabernacle), which will serve as the center of their religious and communal life. In addition, a religious elite of Cohanim and Levi’im is mandated to serve the Mishkan and later the Mikdash (Temple), and their status is to be eternally preserved along the patrilineal father-to-son line. Furthermore, the People of Israel are to carry the Mishkan to the Land of Israel and to establish a permanent house for it once they settle the land. Fast forward, forty years later, the People of Israel enter the Land of Israel with the MIshkan, also known as the Ark of the Covenant (Aron Ha’Brit), and a few turbulent centuries later, circa 950 BCE, King Solomon builds the Temple in Jerusalem to serve as a permanent home for the Aron Ha’Brit and as a central place of worship for the Jewish People. That temple is destroyed in roughly 370 years later, in 586 BCE and then rebuilt around 516 BCE to be destroyed again in 70 CE. Thus, notwithstanding a short interruption of about seventy years, the Israelites had a temple-centered existence for nearly one thousand years.
However, the vision of Temple-based Jewish spirituality and ethical society did not materialize. Over time, and certainly during the later Second Temple Era under the Chashmonaic Dynasty, the Temple turned into a source of political power and therefore into a subject of power struggles among competing factions, while the Cohanim turned from holy priests into pawns in the battles among ambitious rulers and their aspiring rivals. At that point, the sacrifices and donations to the Temple were no longer a symbol of religious devotion but rather a source of corruption and a means for political influence.
Nonetheless, upon the destruction of the Second Temple, the Jewish People faced an excruciating challenge: not only was the keystone of its religious existence and the symbol of its sovereignty demolished, but also an entire social order disintegrated, as the elite of the Cohanim lost its source of power and multiple practices that centered around the Temple, such as sacrifices and pilgrimage, suddenly became irrelevant. Not surprisingly, by that point, the sages, who were the spiritual leaders of the community, had mixed positions regarding the preservation of the temple-centered corrupted societal order. That ambivalence is captured in the story of Raban Yochanan Ben Zachai, who met Vespasian, the Commander of the Roman Legion, which was besieging Jerusalem. Ben-Zachai prophesized to Vespasian about his imminent ascendance to Cesar of Rome. In return, Vespasian asked Ben-Zachai for his wish. The ensuing request was not to save Jerusalem or the Temple, but rather to spare Yavne and its sages.
Henceforth, Ben-Zachai and the sages of Yavne would reinvent Judaism into a mobile and agile civilization, which exists without sovereignty or a central religious institution. Against the desire of some leaders to hold on to existing traditions and therefore to condemn the community to a futile existence of mourning, they strove to reinvent Judaism in a condition of non-sovereignty and in the absence of a Temple. As Rabbi Benny Lau describes in his monumental work, Chachamim (Sages), they sought to eternalize the memory of the Mikdash, while allowing Jewish life to continue. They, and their descendants, did so by introducing countless customs (Minhagim) that later turned into law (Halachot), some of which we follow until today, such as a regular prayer cycle, symbolic reenactment of the work of the sacrifices every Friday night on the Shabbat table and the transition from sacrifices to tzdakah.
That revolution, which ushered in the era of rabbinical Judaism, is one of the most remarkable and resilient societal transformations of human history. Its astonishing success stems from its ability to withstand not only the catastrophe of the destruction of the Second Temple, but also to establish a system that could withstand the dramatic political, social and technological changes that affected the Jewish People ever since. As was articulated a few weeks ago, this revolution has the capacity to even allow for meaningful Jewish existence on Mars, when such reality emerges.
So, how did that revolution come about? In a nutshell, the school that believed in the legitimacy to interpret the Torah in order to make it relevant emerged in the second century BCE and was later led by Hillel the Elder, who came to the Land of Israel from the great Diaspora of that time in Persia. His outlook was crystallized by the legacy of the challenges and experiences of Jewish communities in that Diaspora, who were living in the absence of sovereignty and in a distance from Jerusalem and the Temple. That condition required them to create the capacity to innovate, which was later brought by Hillel to the Land of Israel. However, the outlook of the Pharisees was considered heresy by the Cohanim and the ruling elites of the time, who were known as Sadducees, who upheld a lateral implementation of the commandments of the Torah. That outlook was also self-serving in that it preserved their power and protected the existing order of the time which nourished them.
For nearly two centuries Pharisees and the Sadducees competed for shaping the outlook of the People of Israel and for the power to shape its destiny. Initially, the Pharisees were a small minority, but gradually, as the Sadducees were increasingly corrupted, their appeal and power grew. By the time of the destruction of the Temple, the Pharisees were believed to be the majority and were ready to seize the opportunity-created-by-catastrophe and take over the leadership of the Jewish People. Thereafter, they radically transformed Judaism, reinventing it as a mobile and agile civilization and religion, and therefore seemingly condemning the commandments of Vayikra to obscurity.
There are a highly relevant lessons in this tale of Jewish history. The first is that Judaism is vindictive against the elites that fail it. Prior to the destruction of the Temple, the Cohanim were the source of religious power and the leaders of religious practice. Afterwards, those powers were irreversibly taken by the rabbis. This lesson should be remembered every time that a rabbi invites the Cohanim to the Bimah to deliver their Birkat Cohanim. As much as this should be a moment of memory of the Mikdash and inspiration for a brighter future, it is should also a symbolic warning to existing elites: if you fail the Jewish People, you too will be marginalized to sidelined symbolism.
The second lesson is that as Judaism evolves, it loses not only some of its most progressive factions, but also some of its most orthodox. The Sadducees, the Essenes and the Karaite Jews are three examples of communities whose ideological rigidity condemned them to obscurity or even absolute disappearance. The notion that orthodoxy survives and reforming factions disappears it historically false. In fact, the evolution of the Jewish People stems from the on-going interplay among reforming and orthodox communities, as the secret source of our collective survival stems from the way in which we blend innovation and tradition within a societal whole.
The third lesson is that Judaism actually has the capacity to abort traditions that are no longer relevant. That radical capability emanates from the verse: “et la’asot le’HaShem haferu toratecha” (Psalms, 119: 126), which means that sometimes the service of God requires putting in abeyance the commandments of the Torah. In fact, our history includes a few such revolutions, such as the transition from patrilineal father-to-son to matrilineal mother-to-child descent or the writing of the Oral Torah. Another such potentially-incubating revolution regards the role of women and the growing circles where rabbinical and cantorial positions are open to them.
Finally, we must remember that the most radical reforming views of today may become, over time, mainstream and even orthodoxy, turning practices that seem outrageous into Minhagim and Halachot. Indeed, our tradition recognizes that possibility by introducing the notion that in some cases two diametrically opposed views can be the words of God as said: “elle ve’elle divrei elokim haim” if they are held in the service of God, truth and the community. In other words, yet again, the full picture of our history should guide us to intellectual modesty and to mutual respect across the full spectrum of our community, as we quest to serve the significant existence of our people.