The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

Students of Chumash often encounter trouble "relating to" or "identifying with" the detailed laws regarding the korbanot outlined in Sefer Vayikra. As these laws have not been practically relevant for many centuries, many of us have spent little if any time studying them.

Chazal, however, emphasized the practical value of studying these areas of halakha: "Rabbi Yitzchak said, what does it mean, 'This is the procedure ['Torah'] of the burnt-offering' and 'This is the procedure ['Torah'] of the guilt-offering'? Whoever involves himself in the study of the sin-offering is considered as having brought a sin-offering, and whoever involves himself in the study of the guilt-offering is considered as having brought a guilt-offering" (Menachot 110a).

Significantly, Chazal saw value in the study of these halakhot beyond that of Torah study in general. Regarding all areas of Torah scholarship, our tradition has always deemed Torah study independently sacred and immensely valuable, even if the study has no immediately pragmatic application. Delving into the theoretical analysis of the laws of Shabbat is worthwhile even though it will, by its nature, have no direct impact on one's personal observance of Shabbat. In this sense, then, the study of korbanot is valuable as is learning any other not practically relevant area of Torah. However, Chazal afforded an even greater degree of importance to this specific field of study. A person can, on one level, "fulfill" these mitzvot of the korbanot by studying their laws. A man who studies the halakhot of tefillin has certainly fulfilled the mitzva of Torah learning, but has satisfied no requirement as far as the mitzva of tefillin is concerned. One does, however, fulfill the mitzva of korbanot on some level by studying the pertinent laws.

The Chafetz Chayim felt very strongly about encouraging Jews to study these laws. He established a kollel devoted to learning the laws of korbanot and published several works on the topic, including "Likutei Halakhot," a collection of laws relevant to the sacrifices. In his approbation to this work, Rav Kook discusses the importance of this field of study. He cites the Gemara's comment (in Menachot 110a) regarding a verse in Divrei ha-Yamim II (2:3) in the context of the sacrifices: "this is Israel's eternal duty." The Gemara cites the following explanation of Rabbi Yochanan: "This refers to the Torah scholars who involve themselves in the laws of the avoda [rituals in the Temple] ; the verse considers it as if the Bet ha-Mikdash is built in their lifetime." Why does the Gemara speak only of the "Torah scholars"? Why does this not apply to laymen, as well? Rav Kook explains that Torah scholars study at an advanced level and exert themselves to thoroughly understand the intricate concepts and sort through the complex array of halakhot. This level of study, rather than a mere cursory survey of the material, is necessary to be considered as living during the time of Temple and offering sacrifices.

Perhaps we should keep this mind during these weeks when the parashat ha-shavua deals with the laws of the korbanot.

(Based on an article by Rav Tzvi Shalva, Rosh Kollel of the "Beit ha-Bechira" Kollel in Karmei-Tzur, Gush Etzion)

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Sefer Vayikra begins with God calling Moshe from the Tent of Meeting. The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 1:15) notes that Moshe did not enter the newly constructed Mishkan until God called to him. The Midrash sees Moshe's conduct in this respect as an example of how even a distinguished Torah scholar must display the highest standards of manners and propriety. If a scholar does not conduct himself in this manner, the Midrash continues, "a neveila is greater than him." A "neveila" is the carcass of an animal that died through any means other than proper shechita (ritual slaughter). Why does the Midrash choose specifically a "neveila" to stress its condemnation of a Torah scholar who exhibits bad manners, and what does it mean that such a scholar is "worse" than a carcass?

We will consider three possible explanations of this Midrash.

An animal that died without undergoing proper shechita transmits "tum'a" - ritual impurity - on contact. Without physical contact, however, a "neveila" cannot transfer tum'a. A scholar who behaves improperly, by contrast, can "contaminate" or "defile" even without direct contact. Once word spreads of a rabbi or sage who acts or speaks dishonestly or discourteously, a type of "tum'a" is spread throughout the community. People's respect for Torah and desire to study Torah automatically diminishes, and God's Name is desecrated.

Secondly, as opposed to a carcass, such a Torah scholar does possess an element of kedusha (sanctity); Torah knowledge, we believe, is inherently sacred and has a certain spiritual effect upon a person. This Midrash perhaps teaches that absolute tum'a, at least in one sense, is "preferable" over misused sanctity. If one becomes knowledgeable in God's laws but does not apply the ideals they embody in his day-to-day life, then he should have remained a "neveila," a purely physical being without any sanctity at all.

Another explanation is suggested by Rav Shemuel Aharon Rabin of Kartchin, in his "Einei Shemuel" on Masekhet Rosh Hashanah (16b). The Gemara in several places (Betza 38b; Menachot 23a) notes that a neveila can eventually lose its state of ritual impurity. Once it has rotted to the point where we can no longer consider it "meat" (but rather "rotted flesh"), tum'a can no longer apply. The Midrash teaches us that unlike a neveila, a scholar without manners cannot - in most instances - become pure. His knowledge affords him a certain degree of overconfidence which makes introspection and self-criticism unlikely. As such a person does not have much chance of improving, even a neveila is greater than him.

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Parshiyot Vayikra and Tzav discuss the laws regarding the various types of korbanot (sacrifices), both those offered voluntarily and the offerings required by the Torah under given circumstances. A very famous dispute exists as to the underlying purpose of the institution of korbanot. The Rambam (Moreh Nevukhim 3:46) viewed sacrifices as a means of diverting Benei Yisrael's hearts away from the idolatrous rituals prevalent at the time. God ordered a unique system of sacrificial offerings in order to help ensure that Benei Yisrael would not adopt the pagan practices of neighboring cultures. (Interestingly, however, in his concluding remarks of Hilkhot Me'ila, the Rambam classifies the laws of korbanot as "chukim," laws whose rational underpinnings lie beyond the scope of human comprehension.) The Ramban (in his commentary to Vayikra 1:9) sharply criticizes and denounces the Rambam's approach. He maintains that the institution of korbanot has nothing to do with the corresponding practices of the pagans ("le-havdil"). Instead, the required rituals are meant to impress upon a person the gravity of his sins; he deserves to be sacrificed upon an altar to God in place of this animal.

An interesting attempt at reconciling these two views was made by Rav Meir Simcha of Dvinsk, in his Meshekh Chokhma on our parasha. At certain points in history, prior to the construction of the Bet Ha-mikdash in King Solomon's time, Benei Yisrael were permitted to offer sacrifices on "bamot," private altars. Generally, the presence of a Mishkan or Mikdash required that all sacrifices be brought to that central location. At certain points, however, sacrificing in other locations was allowed. Rav Meir Simcha suggests that we adopt the Rambam's approach with regard to bamot, but follow the Ramban's position when dealing with the Mishkan or Mikdash. The Temple (or its precursor, the Mishkan) is required and necessary regardless of the ancient pagan influences to which Benei Yisrael were exposed. There were times, however, private altars were allowed in order to countethese dangerous influences. Thus, whereas sacrificing in the Temple constitutes an ideal rather than unfortunate necessity, the bamot were instituted as a "concession" of sorts, a necessary measure, and did not reflect the Torah's ideal.

Rav Meir Simcha uses this theory to explain a position cited by Tosefot (Megila 10a) relevant to the institution of bamot. A general dispute exists in the Gemara as to whether the unique sanctity of the territory on which the Mikdash stood remains even after the Temple's destruction. (Authoritative halakha generally assumes that it does.) According to the view that this sanctity dissipated with the destruction, do bamot become permissible? After all, in the absence of a central location for offering sacrifices, private altars should, perhaps, be allowed. However, Tosefot cite the view of Rav Chayim Kohen prohibiting bamot even in the post-Temple era. On what basis should bamot be forbidden when no Temple stands? Rav Meir Simcha explains that from the very outset, the institution of bamot was meant only as necessary measure to oppose the pagan influences of the ancient world. During the Second Temple period, however, pagan ritual worship declined, and so did the threat it posed to the Jewish people. Hence, there is no further room to allow private bamot, which were sanctioned only to help Benei Yisrael withstand this religious threat.

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Yesterday we saw the famous dispute between the Rambam and Ramban regarding the underlying purpose of the institution of korbanot (sacrifices). The Rambam, in his Moreh Nevukhim, claims that the sacrifices served as but an alternative to the pagan sacrificial rituals prevalent in the ancient world. By presenting an independent system of sacrifices, God sought to keep Benei Yisrael away from the corresponding pagan sacrifices. The Ramban strongly disagrees and claims that the sacrifices serve to symbolize to the penitent individual the drastic effects of sin; by witnessing the slaughter of his animal, the person will be humbled as he realizes what in essence should happen to him because of his wrongdoing. We also saw yesterday the Meshekh Chokhma's "compromise" between these two views.

Today we will look at another "compromise" position, raised by Rabbi Eliyahu Rosenthal in his Imrei Dei'a. Based on a verse in Parashat Vayikra, the Gemara in Masekhet Chulin (5a) establishes that no voluntary sacrifices offered by a Jewish apostate (a "mumar") may be accepted in the Bet ha-Mikdash. Gentiles, however, may offer sacrifices in the Temple regardless of their theological views. What logic is there to refuse sacrifices brought by a Jewish apostate but accept those of a pagan gentile?

Rav Rosenthal suggests that we distinguish between sacrifices brought to the Temple by Jews and those brought by non-Jews. Although both may offer korbanot in the Mikdash, the nature of these offerings perhaps depends on the individual's nationality. One may argue that Benei Yisrael bring sacrifices for the reasons discussed by the Ramban, as mentioned earlier. As their offerings is intended to yield a specific religious effect, this privilege is denied to those for whom the korbanot are meaningless from the Torah's perspective. Other peoples, however, may offer sacrifices in the Bet ha-Mikdash for the reason of the Rambam - as a legitimate alternative to pagan rituals. Therefore, this opportunity is available to all gentiles, including those who profess paganism, in order to oppose the idolatrous sacrifices.

Rav Rosenthal then adds that one source in Chazal may support the Rambam's position, that korbanot are meant to keep Benei Yisrael away from pagan rituals. A verse in Parashat Re'ei reads, "you shall worship Him and hold fast to Him" (Devarim 13:5). The Sifrei explains: "you shall worship Him - in the Temple; hold fast to Him - separate yourselves from idolatry." The Sifrei appears to draw an association between the service in the Mikdash and the need for Benei Yisrael to distance themselves from idolatry, perhaps lending support to the Rambam's view.

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Among the sacrifices detailed in Parashat Vayikra is the korban chatat, or sin-offering. The type of animal brought in the event of an unintentional violation depends on the identity of the perpetrator. A king, we are told, brings a male goat (4:22-26). A commoner, by contrast, has the option of bringing a sheep as his sin-offering (see 4:27-35). Wherein lies the symbolic significance of this distinction?

Rav Zalman Sorotzkin (Oznayim le-Torah; we've added a bit of our own, here, as well) suggests that the goat and sheep represent two different types of wrongdoing. Several sources in Chazal indicate that they considered the goat a particular brazen and audacious animal (see Betza 25, Shabbat 77). The sheep, by contrast, generally connotes humble passivity and submission. Misdeeds generally result from one of these two tendencies. At times a person commits a wrong out of arrogance, considering himself above the law and beyond criticism. In other instances, an individual may sin specifically due to his exaggerated humility, his sense of unworthiness and low self-esteem. When a person thinks of himself in this way, he is prone to act in a manner befitting this low stature to which he is assigned in his mind.

In this section, the Torah refers to the king with the term "nasi," which relates to the Hebrew word for elevation and height. A king who sins generally does so due to arrogance and overconfidence. (Although we deal here with inadvertent violations, the Torah finds fault in the perpetrator in these instances, as well. We should clarify that the situations requiring a sin-offering are not circumstances beyond the sinner's control, but rather oversights, such as forgetting the halakha, etc.) Therefore, he brings as his offering a goat, the symbol of arrogance and gall. The Torah refers here to a commoner with the term, "me-am ha-aretz," literally, "a person from the people of the land," perhaps emphasizing the individual's lowly stature. ("Aretz" or "artzi'ut" is generally associated with the lower social strata; indeed, in common vernacular the term "am ha-aretz" means "ignoramus.") While at times even a commoner sins out of arrogance, in many instances his wrongdoing results specifically from his low self-image. The Torah therefore allows the option of either the symbol of arrogance - the goat - as well as that of humility and submission - the sheep.

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(Today's readers are strongly encouraged to review the S.A.L.T. posting this past Motza'ei Shabbat, which discussed the importance of in-depth study of the intricate laws of korbanot.)

Chapter 5 of Sefer Vayikra lists several sins that, when committed unknowingly, require a "korban oleh ve-yored." Meaning, the type of sacrifice brought depends on the financial status of the perpetrator. A wealthy sinner must bring a sheep or goat; a poor person brings two birds; and one who cannot afford even that brings a simple meal-offering. Today we will discuss one halakhic issue concerning the bird-offering.

Unlike animal sacrifices, a bird-offering is not slaughtered in the conventional manner of shechita. Instead, the kohen performs "melika," whereby he kills the bird by slicing its neck with his nail. With regard to the bird-offering brought as a korban oleh ve-yored, the Torah writes, "lo yavdil" (5:8), prohibiting the kohen from severing the head. Specifically how much of the neck must the kohen slice? At what point in his "melika" is he considered unnecessarily "severing" the bird's head, thus violating this prohibition?

Generally, when slaughtering animals for consumption, a shechita is considered valid only if the knife cuts the majority of both "simanim" of the animal, meaning, both the trachea and the esophagus; the majority of each pipe must be sliced. When slaughtering a bird, however, halakha validates the shechita even if only one of the two pipes is mostly cut. All this, however, applies only on the level of "be-di'avad," if the optimum shechita is not performed. As the Mishna and Gemara explain in Masekhet Chulin (27a), optimally ("le-khatechila") one must cut the trachea and esophagus, not merely the majority. Additionally, when slaughtering a bird, one must optimally sever both "simanim," despite the fact that ex post facto the severing of only one suffices.

Returning, then, to the case of the bird sin-offering, as the Torah forbids severing the bird's head, it perhaps stands to reason that any cutting beyond that which is necessary to render the "melika" (which takes the place of shechita) valid, is forbidden. Indeed, Rashi, in his commentary to Masekhet Chulin (21b), writes that cutting more than the single "siman" required violates this prohibition. As the shechita of a bird is valid with the severing of either one of the two "simanim," once a single "siman" of the sin-offering is severed, one may not cut any further. Rashi adds that although optimally both the trachea and esophagus must be severed, since the minimum requirement is satisfied with the slicing of only one of the two, any further cutting in the case of the sin-offering is forbidden.

Tosefot, however, raise the obvious question. Why may the entire, single "siman" be severed? Since, as we saw, the minimum standard requires the severing of only the majority of one "siman" in the bird, why do we allow the kohen to slice the entire "siman"? If we forbid cutting the second "siman" since its requirement is not indispensable, then we should forbid completing the cutting of the first "siman," as well.

A rather compelling resolution to this difficulty is suggested by Rabbi Yitzchak Zev Diskin, in his work, Zivchei Tzedek. He notes that Rashi himself alludes to an important distinction between these two optimum requirements - severing the entirety of a "siman," rather than just the majority; and cutting both "simanim" in a bird, rather than just one. In his commentary to Chulin 27a, Rashi explains the second requirement, that one cut both "simanim" of a bird, as based on the concern that the first "siman" may not have been properly cut. Significantly, Rashi provides no parallel basis for the first provision, requiring cutting the entire - rather than majority of - the "simanim." From here we may deduce that in Rashi's view, the requirement of cutting both "simanim" in a bird constitutes but a "gezeira," a rabbinic decree motivated by external concerns, rather than a law integral to the shechita. Cutting the entirety of the "simanim," by contrast, is required not as a "gezeira," but rather as a provision - albeit not an indispensable provision - integral to the shechita procedure. Therefore, when the Torah forbids cutting more than the minimum required amount of the sin-offering, it forbids only that cutting which is not required as an integral component of the process of shechita - namely, the second "siman." The entirety of the first "siman," however, is viewed as an inherent part of this process, and is therefore not forbidden in the case of the bird sin-offering.

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When introducing the laws of korbanot in Sefer Vayikra, God tells Moshe, "Adam ki yakriv mi-kem korban… " ("When a person from you offers a sacrifice… " - Vayikra 1:2). Rashi comments that the word "adam" in this verse is to be understood as an allusion to Adam ha-Rishon. Just as Adam did not offer sacrifices from the property of others, as the entire world effectively belonged to him, so may one not use animals belonging to others as a sacrifice.

Several later writers have asked, how can Adam serve as a precedent for this prohibition against using the property of another for a sacrifice? Adam did not offer sacrifices from the property of others for the simple reason that all animals de facto belonged to him; he had no opportunity to steal. How, then, can we derive laws relevant to subsequent generations from the reality of Adam, when he had the world all to himself?

Rav Shimon Schwab (Ma'ayan Beit ha-Sho'eiva) explains that the rule Rashi here establishes does not relate to the crime of theft per se. The reason why one may not take the property of others for use as a sacrifice has less to do with the criminal nature of theft than with the essence of korbanot. One who brings a sacrifice to God must give of himself; a korban is defined as something taken from own possession and donated, as it were, to the Almighty. Thus, one who takes someone else's animal to bring as a sacrifice has not merely performed a mitzva by committing a sin; he has, effectively, not brought a korban at all.

The situation of Adam ha-Rishon, then, does, indeed, serve as an accurate precedent for this law Rashi seeks to establish. Everything Adam offered to God was, de facto, that which he possessed, a model that defines the very essence of a korban: something a person gives of himself to God ("ke-ve-yakhol").

This idea may convey a more general lesson concerning "korbanot" in the broader sense, that is, our observance of Torah in general. One cannot expect to properly observe the mitzvot and serve his Creator without sacrificing any luxuries and comforts - be it financial or physical. Every morning, seven days a week, one must wake up to recite the tefilot in the prescribed time; providing one's children with a proper Torah education involves a very heavy expense; not to mention the occasional fasts, the obligation to set aside substantial time for Torah study, and so many other examples. We must be willing to take of our own time and resources and make sacrifices for God. If we cannot bring sacrifices nowadays in the literal sense, at very least we can give of what we have to the Almighty, and thereby, hopefully, earn His favor.

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