Tazria | Introduction of the Sacrifices (3)

 

INTRODUCTION

 

Last week, we continued our study of the essential elements of the sacrificial service.  In our discussion of the service of the blood, we first pondered the words of the Ramban who metaphorically saw in the matter ominous intimations of punishment on the one hand and hopeful expressions of Divine compassion on the other.  It was as if the one who willfully abrogated transcendent God's word ought to have suffered death and immolation, were it not for compassionate God who accepted the substitution of an animal in his stead.  While some of us may have taken issue with Ramban's provocative imagery, the underlying assumption of his remarks was beyond dispute: even sincere and arduous love of God must be tempered by a healthy dose of reverence and fear, for it is the latter which often prove more effective in fostering ongoing observance of His proscriptions and laws.

 

We went on to consider the matter of the blood from a different perspective, noting that in more than one place the Torah draws a parallel between the blood of the creature and its life-force.  Thus, in VaYikra 17:10-14, the Torah outlaws the consumption of animal blood, for the "soul is in the blood," while in Bereishit 8:1-7, the Torah prohibits murder, namely the "willful shedding of human blood."  It emerges, then, that whether we are speaking of animals or of people, the blood that constitutes the biological vehicle for continued existence represents the living essence that animates both.  It should be emphasized at this juncture that when we speak of "life force" or "soul" in this context, we mean not the ethereal, eternal and elusive component of the human being that is the source of his unique self-consciousness, God awareness, moral will and spirituality.  That aspect of the human being, while sometimes generically translated as "soul," is typically referred to in the original Hebrew by a different and more exalted term: "neshama" or "breath of the Divine."   Rather, here we refer to the basic biological energy that is the foundation of physical vitality and mobility, and that is therefore common to both man and beast.

 

In any case, once we have established the fundamental link between blood and the life force, it is possible to adopt the basic thesis of the Ramban while mitigating its more disturbing implications.  Indeed, the presentation of the animal blood on the altar is a powerful object lesson in substitution.  But it is not mercifully averted punishment that is being represented, but rather the existential human desire for Divine closeness.  We yearn to be close to God's presence, to experience His immediacy, to dedicate our very life fiber to His will and to His service.  We are prepared to dedicate our living energy – symbolized by the rich red blood that surges through our arteries and nourishes our organs and limbs – in our quest for communion, and as we stand in the Temple forecourt and present our sacrificial animal upon the altar, we too are consumed by the longing for closeness.  Thus it is that the Torah invariably refers to sacrifices of any sort as "korbanot," from the root "KRV" that means to draw near. 

 

THE MATTER OF THE FIRE

 

This week, we will conclude the matter by considering the other aspects of he service, namely the fire that consumes and the altar upon which it burns.  In truth, the altar fire was a rather striking affair, a huge conflagration that perpetually consumed the organs, fats and limbs of the sacrificial animals, or else the flour, flat cakes or loaves of the grain offerings.  Significantly, though, the blood itself was not spilled into the fire upon the altar but rather was typically placed or poured upon its corner projections, its sides or its base from whence it percolated down below or else was collected in a special channel to eventually find its way out to the Valley of Kidron beyond the Temple enclosure (see Mishna Middot 3:2).  According to the account of the Mishna in Tractate Yoma 5:6, once the sacrificial blood had been presented and had then exited to the Valley of Kidron, it was typically purchased by local gardeners for use as fertilizer!  How fitting then, that the blood, emblematic of the human craving to draw near to God, ultimately achieved its destiny not in becoming fuel for the fire but rather in fostering the growth of other life! 

 

In considering the matter of the fire, there is much Biblical imagery to draw upon and most of it seems to point to the same inescapable conclusion.  Whether we speak of Avraham's encounter with God at the Covenant Between the Pieces, Moshe's rendezvous with the Deity at the Burning Bush or else Israel's meeting with the God who took them out of the land of Egypt and proclaimed to them His laws from Sinai's summit, fire is the vehicle of choice for the manifestation of the Divine:

 

As the sun set and darkness fell, a smoking furnace and burning torch passed between the pieces…(Bereishit 15:17).

 

An angel of God appeared to him (Moshe) in a flaming fire out of the midst of the thorn bush, and behold he saw that although the thorn bush burned with fire it was not consumed…(Shemot 3:2).

 

Now Mount Sinai was entirely full of smoke for God had descended upon it in fire, and its smoke ascended like the smoke of a furnace as the entire mountain trembled (Shemot 19:18).

 

Perhaps most tellingly for our purposes, we also note that the dedicatory sacrifices of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) that were celebrated earlier in the Book of VaYikra concluded with an awesome and fiery display of Divine approval:

 

Aharon lifted up his hands towards the people and he blessed them, and then he descended from having performed the sin offering, the burnt offering and the peace offerings.  Moshe and Aharon entered the Tent of Meeting and then came out to bless the people, and God's glory appeared to the entire nation.  A FIRE WENT FORTH FROM BEFORE GOD AND CONSUMED THE BURNT OFFERING AND THE FATS THAT WERE UPON THE ALTAR.  ALL OF THE PEOPLE SAW IT AND CRIED OUT, AND THEN THEY FELL DOWN UPON THEIR FACES (VaYikra 9:22-24).

 

Thus it emerges that the fire of the altar, first ignited by direct Divine intervention, represents the manifest presence of God among the people.  This altar fire is maintained perpetually in accordance with directives spelled out earlier in the book, for as an expression of Divine involvement it must be as predictable and as constant as He is:

 

The fire on the altar shall burn upon it perpetually, for the kohen shall place wood upon it every morning.  Then he shall arrange upon it the burnt offering and burn upon it the fat of the peace offerings.  A continual fire shall be kindled upon the altar and shall not go out…(VaYikra 6:5-6).

 

The analogy of the altar fire with God's presence is emphatically implied by the recurring refrain of the sacrificial service, for everywhere the account of the offerings concludes with the same phrase: "it is a fiery offering, a sweet savor unto God" (VaYikra 1:9, 13,17; 2:11, 16; 3:3, 9, 11, 14; 7:5, 25; et al).  The potentially problematic "sweet savor" that actually first occurred in the account of Noach's sacrifice after the Flood (Bereishit 8:25) is a bold anthropomorphism for the securing of Divine favor, and thus the verses consciously link the fire that burns the offering with the manifestation of God's approval.  In other words the fire that represents God's presence in Israel consumes the sacrifice as a potent expression of the supplicant's having found acceptance and favor in His sight. 

 

OTHER ASPECTS OF THE FIRE

 

Now it is the case that the metaphor of fire can have more ominous overtones, for while the fire bestows light and warmth and constitutes for ancient man an almost sure sign of associated shelter and protection, it can also burn perilously and destroy.  Moshe himself, in one of his most stirring parting addresses in the Book of Devarim, alerts us to this other reading:

 

For I will die in this land and will not traverse the Yarden, but you are going over and will inherit this goodly land.  Be very careful lest you forget the covenant of God your Lord that He concluded with you, and make for yourselves instead a molten image of anything that God your Lord commanded you (not to do).  FOR GOD YOUR LORD IS A CONSUMING FIRE, A ZEALOUS LORD (Devarim 4:22-24).

 

Perhaps then, the altar fire that signifies the presence of God and His immediacy also contains a caution, for while we seek His closeness and imminence, we must not overstep our bounds.  Just as Israel stood at Sinai but was warned to not ascend the mountain with impulsiveness, just as the Mishkan was surrounded by a sacred enclosure that limited and circumscribed approach, so too the altar fire beckoned while simultaneously warning away.  The dynamic tension of serving God is to breathlessly seek His nearness while concurrently maintaining a respectful distance, preserving the gap that must necessarily separate mere mortals from the Source of all life.  In Rabbinic parlance, one uses the term "yirah" or reverence to describe the proper frame of mind, for while we seek the closeness of those whom we revere, we would never dare to risk the loss of their noble love by violating the boundaries that define the relationship. 

 

CONSIDERING THE ALTAR

 

It seems to me that the third and final piece of the puzzle, the altar itself, constitutes the human contribution to the dynamic.  Everywhere, the altar is described as a simple mound of earth and stones, unshaped by human tools and unsullied by implements of iron and warfare.  In the aftermath of the Revelation at Sinai it is described as the vehicle for securing Divine immediacy:

 

You shall make for Me an altar of earth, and you shall sacrifice upon it your burnt offerings and your peace offerings, your sheep and your cattle, for in every place where I shall cause My name to be mentioned I shall come to you and bless you.  If you fashion for Me an altar of stones then do not make them hewn, for then you have lifted up your sword upon it and desecrated it.  Do not ascend upon steps to My altar, so that your nakedness should not be exposed upon it (Shemot 20:20-22).

 

The Mishna in Tractate Middot 3:4 preserves ancient traditions associated with the construction of the Temple altar at Jerusalem that echo the sentiments of the passage in Sefer Shemot:

 

The stones of the approach ramp and the stones of the altar were both excavated from the valley of Beit Kerem.  They would dig under virgin earth and extract whole stones from there that had not at all been touched by iron.  For iron disqualifies them merely by touch, as does a mere nick or scratch…for iron is fashioned to cut human life short, while the altar is created to lengthen a man's days.  It would not be proper for the one who diminishes to be raised upon the one who increases.

 

Here then, in basic outline, is the perennial and profound story of the encounter between man and God.  Striving to reach Him, we gather up earth and stones, the very matter from which we were first fashioned still preserved in the pristine and pure initial state.  The stones must be whole and unshaped, an expression of the basic and organic human condition.  But that primary matter must then be heaped up to form an artificial mound or platform, for in order to apprehend God we realize that we must somehow transcend the terrestrial plane and its suffocating materiality.  Upon that raised place we are prepared to present our very life force and existence, for in our heart of hearts we know that true and authentic living in God's presence requires a comprehensive commitment.  The Divine fire burns upon the summit of that platform, beckoning us and receiving us into its warm embrace, while cautioning us to show deference and respect for its consuming presence.  Understood this way, the sacrificial service, though long dormant and almost forgotten by most of us, is as meaningful today as it was on that triumphant day some three thousand years ago when the Mishkan was first dedicated.  We fittingly conclude with the formulation of the Rambam (12^th century, Egypt) who introduces his discussion of the Temple laws with a consideration of the laws of the altar:

 

The location of the altar must be very precise, and can never be moved.  As the verse states: 'This shall be the altar of burnt offering for Israel' (Divrei HaYamim/Chronicles 1:22:1).  At the very location of the Temple, the binding of Yitzhak had taken place (centuries before), for God had commanded Avraham to 'go to the land of Moriah, to offer Yitzhak upon one of the mountains that I will show you' (Bereishit 22:2). And in the Book of Divrei HaYamim (2:3:1) it states that 'Shelomo commenced the building of God's House at Jerusalem on Mount Moriah where God had appeared to David his father, at the place that David had prepared…"

 

It is a well-established tradition that the place where David and Shelomo erected the altar at the threshing floor of Ornah the Yevusi was the very place where Avraham had prepared his altar upon which to sacrifice Yitzhak.  It is the same place where Noach had built an altar when he disembarked from the ark, and the same location where Kayin and Hevel had sacrificed to God.  The first man, Adam, there offered sacrifice after he had been created, and in fact was created from earth drawn from that very place.  As the Sages put it: 'Man was fashioned from the place of his atonement.' 

Shabbat Shalom