Dear TBZ Community,
The book of Vayikra (Leviticus), which we begin reading this week, is filled with details about sacrifices. Sacrifices are offerings we bring to the Temple in Jerusalem as a response to different things that happen to us in our lives. Sacrifices, or offerings, in Hebrew is korbanot קרבנות, from the root קרב, which means “close.” What does it mean to give a sacrifice, to bring an offering of food to God? The concept may seem very foreign to us today, given that we are used to offering prayers as a means of reaching God. But for the ancient Israelites, sacrifices – animals, grain, and incense – were a powerful way to make a connection to the Divine, a way to approach God and come closer.
Our parashah (Torah portion) this week, Vayikra, begins with a detailed explanation of the various forms of sacrifices that the Israelites offered. One of the most interesting aspects of the sacrifices is the way that they were tailored to each individual’s means:
If you could not afford to offer a bull, then you offered a goat or sheep. If not a sheep, then a bird. Access to God was not limited by economic background; everyone could access God and this ritual was accessible for all.
In chapter 2 of Vayikra, the person bringing a grain offering to God is described as a “nefesh.”
וְנֶפֶשׁ כִּי־תַקְרִיב קרְבַּן
When a person presents an offering of meal to Adonai
In biblical Hebrew, a nefesh simply means a person, but starting in the rabbinic period and also in Modern Hebrew, nefesh also means a soul. The Rabbis played with this double meaning to suggest that a poor person bringing some of her produce as a sacrifice was literally bringing part of her soul to God.
In the midrash (commentary) in Leviticus Rabbah (3:5), we read about the story of a poor woman who brought fine flour to the Temple as a sacrifice.
מַעֲשֶׂה בְּאִשָּׁה אַחַת שֶׁהֵבִיאָה קֹמֶץ שֶׁל סֹלֶת, וְהָיָה כֹּהֵן מְבַזֶּה עָלֶיהָ, וְאָמַר, רְאוּ מָה הֵן מַקְרִיבוֹת, מַה בָּזֶה לֶאֱכֹל, מַה בָּזֶה לְהַקְרִיב, נִרְאָה לַכֹּהֵן בַּחֲלוֹם אַל תְּבַזֶּה עָלֶיהָ, כְּאִלּוּ נַפְשָׁהּ הִקְרִיבָה
There is a story of a poor woman who brought fine flour to the Temple as a sacrifice. The priest sneered at her: “See what she offers! Is this really good enough to eat or sacrifice?” The priest felt cheated out of the majestic meal that an offering of a goat or bull would have given him. In a dream, he was told: “Do not despise her! It is regarded as if she had sacrificed her own life.”
The priest was so caught up in his own expectations, in what he wanted, and the abundance of offerings that he received when people brought animal sacrifices, that he could not appreciate the sacrifice made by the person in front of him. He was only focused on the product that was brought to him and not on the woman, the nefesh, the soul that was offering the gift. In the dream, the priest is rebuked for not seeing her effort, for not seeing her soul, for not noticing that the simple gift was for her as giving her whole self.
The beautiful Torah in this text speaks to the notion that each and every one of us can access divinity, regardless of the offering we bring. A message of inclusion that says all are welcome – but the message is not as simple as that. Yes, each and every one brings gifts based on their capacity and still when we bring, we are expected to bring ourselves fully. The challenge before us is what kind of offerings we bring (can be flour or a bull) that can be compared to bringing our full self and to offering our soul.
And that is my invitation for this Shabbat, as we read about these old, somehow barbaric, brutal, and bloody, but incredibly powerful rituals. Rituals that are all about finding closeness, recognizing humanity and failure, and our capacity to access God by bringing our full selves: In which ways do we bring our full selves, or do we at times limit that which we can bring with an excuse? The Torah is not interested in the wealth of the product that we bring, but in the deep intention, in the capacity to bring our whole soul to it.
This question can be translated to the ways that we live our lives. Intentionally, meaningfully. Are we accessing our full selves and bringing this to the world? Are we showing up in ways where we give ourselves to the world (in whichever way that looks)?
May this Shabbat be a reminder to us to tune inwards, so we can bring those gifts that each and everyone of us has, no exception to our communities and lives.
May this Shabbat bring renewal and blessings to all of you and your loved ones.
May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity.
May all those who are ill find healing. And may we have a joyful, sweet, and peaceful Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom & Chodesh Tov,
Rav Claudia