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Yeshivat Har Etzion
PARASHAT VAYIKRA
By Rav David Silverberg
In the second chapter of Sefer Vayikra, the Torah introduces the korban mincha, the meal offering, which was generally brought by those who could not afford to purchase an animal for a voluntary offering. The Mishna towards the end of Masekhet Menachot (104b) famously notes that in discussing this particular korban, the Torah describes the individual with the term nefesh ("soul"): "Ve-nefesh ki takriv korban mincha le-Hashem " This word, the Mishna comments, which is not used in reference to other sacrifices, emphasizes that despite the low monetary value of this offering, the pauper who brings a mincha is deemed by God as "sacrificing his soul," as he brings as much as he can afford. On this basis, the Mishna postulates the famous principle, "Echad ha-marbeh ve-echad ha-mam'it u-vilvad she-yekhavein libo la-Shamayim" ("The one who does more and the one who does less are the same, provided that one focuses his heart towards the heaven"). This means that even if one performs or gives less than somebody else, both gestures are looked upon equally if they are accompanied by the same degree of sincerity.
Many have asked the question of to what situation this Mishna refers in equating the one who "does more" with the person who "does less." If the one bringing the korban mincha, for example, bring this offering because he cannot afford to bring a bull, then it seems plainly obvious that God will look upon his gift as favorably as He accepts the costly ola offering of his wealthier peer. And if both have equal resources, then why should the one who gives less earn the same degree of divine favor as he who gives more?
Rav Dov Weinberger, in his Shemen Ha-tov, suggests that the Mishna perhaps refers to somebody with sufficient means to match his fellow's offering, but instead offers a modest gift due to other considerations. Rav Weinberger speaks particularly about an individual who decides to offer a less expense korban so as to ensure not to humiliate his less fortunate peer, who cannot afford a costly offering. Even though he gives a lesser amount, and even though he could afford a higher amount, his offering is nevertheless deemed equivalent to a more expensive korban, since his decision to offer a smaller amount was motivated out of sincerity, rather than out of stinginess.
As mentioned, Rav Weinberger speaks of this particular consideration the concern for the feelings of the less fortunate. But in truth, the basic principle applies to all situations where one lessens his involvement in a given area of avodat Hashem due to legitimate, conflicting religious interests. A person who devotes less time to study, for example, in order to increase his involvement in necessary communal affairs may perhaps still be deemed "equal" to the full-time student. If a person must "lower his amount" due to a sincerely motivated desire to focus his energies elsewhere, the principle of "Echad ha-marbeh" establishes that his lower amount is accepted favorably, as if he had given the higher amount.
That said, it should be noted that the Mishna speaks only of a mam'it one who gives or does less, but not somebody who gives or does nothing. While it is legitimate to decrease involvement in one area in favor of more intensive efforts in another area, no area of avodat Hashem may be entirely neglected. Although each person must choose a "field of specialization," he must still get involved on some level in all the various values and concerns that comprise Jewish religious life.
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In the first three chapters of Sefer Vayikra, the Torah presents the laws of the voluntary sacrifices and frequently describes the various korbanot with the expression, "rei'ach nicho'ach le-Hashem," which is generally translated as, "a pleasing aroma to the Lord." Rashi, based on Torat Kohanim, explains this to mean nachat ru'ach, or satisfaction. As Rashi explains, the offering of a sacrifice brings God "satisfaction," as it were, as it marks the fulfillment of His will.
But this explanation gives rise to the question of why this expression appears only in the context of the voluntary sacrifices, and not the mandatory sin-offerings described later in the parasha. When offering these sacrifices, too, one fulfills the divine will, and thus they should seemingly bring God nachat ru'ach. Evidently, the unfortunate circumstances that necessitated this kind of korban renders it inappropriate to speak of it in terms of being pleasing to God and causing Him "satisfaction."
The Rambam, in Moreh Nevukhim (3:46), amidst his famous and controversial discussion of the underlying meaning of the sacrifices, suggests that the term rei'ach nicho'ach denotes something more specific. In the beginning of this chapter, the Rambam writes that the Torah ordained bringing animal sacrifices specifically from cattle and sheep, because these animals were worshipped in the ancient world. The offering of these perceived deities would help reinforce Benei Yisrael's rejection of pagan beliefs. As the Rambam writes:
Thus the very act which is considered by the heathen as the greatest crime is the means of approaching God, and obtaining his pardon for our sins. In this manner, evil principles, the diseases of the human soul, are cured by other principles which are diametrically opposite.
Later in this chapter, the Rambam applies this understanding of the function of korbanot to the term rei'ach nicho'ach. The voluntary and festival offerings are described as "a pleasing aroma to the Lord," he writes, because they serve "to remove idolatrous doctrines from our hearts." These sacrifices were "pleasing" to God not because they represent the fulfillment of His will, but rather because of their instrumental value in eradicating pagan beliefs.
The sin-offerings, by contrast, serve, according to the Rambam, a different function: "But the burning of these sin-offerings is a symbol that the sin is utterly removed and destroyed." As such, he adds, "the smoke thereof is not 'a sweet savor unto the Lord,' but, on the contrary, a smoke despised and abhorred." The sin-offerings are burnt as a representation of the eradication of sin, and hence the smoke that arises from the sacrifice symbolically carries the stench of sin. The Torah therefore could not describe these offerings as a rei'ach nicho'ach, as it described the voluntary offerings, through which an individual reinforced his conviction of the truth of monotheism.
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The first verse of Parashat Vayikra tells that God "called to Moshe" from
the Mishkan, and then began instructing him with regard to the laws of
the sacrifices. Rashi, commenting
on this verse, cites a rather lengthy discussion from Torat Kohanim about
the deeper connotations of the word vayikra ("He called"). Chazal describe this term as an
expression of
In explaining the significance of the term vayikra, the Maharal, in his Gur Aryeh, suggests that vayikra means calling somebody by name, whereas vayikar refers to speaking to somebody without specifically mentioning his name. The fact that the Almighty first called, "Moshe" before speaking to him reflects a degree of special affection, in contrast to God's appearance to Bilam, which was not preceded by a mention of his name.
Rav David Kviat, in his Sukat David, suggests a different
explanation, one which addresses as well the Midrash's reference to the angels'
"calling" to one another.
Vayikra means that God called to Moshe before speaking with him,
whereas vayikar refers to a more spontaneous encounter. We might compare this distinction to the
difference between asking a random pedestrian on the street what time it is, and
inviting someone to the office for consultation. We might formulate this distinction as
the difference between talking to someone and holding a meeting with
someone. When God appeared to
Bilam, He did so out of temporary necessity; when it came time to convey His
instructions to Moshe, He "called him in for a meeting," so-to-speak. What vayikra demonstrates, then,
is that God regarded the communion itself irrespective of the information
communicated at this meeting as intrinsically significant. This is why, Rav Kviat explains,
Chazal describe vayikra as an expression of
With this in mind we can explain the reference to the verse in Sefer Yeshayahu describing the angels as "calling" to one another. The angels proclaim God's sanctity together, in unison (as we emphasize in the morning shacharit service: "kulam ke-echad onim "), and they therefore require each other's presence and cooperation. They "call" to one another not speak to each other after all, they say nothing to each other; they speak only towards the Almighty but rather to be with one another as they proclaim "Kadosh." Thus, the usage of ve-kara in the context of the heavenly kedusha declaration indeed sheds light on God's "calling" to Moshe described with the same term. Vayikra means that God sought Moshe's presence and company, as it were, and did not address him solely for the purpose of conveying information.
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The first section of Parashat Vayikra outlines the procedures relevant to the korban ola, or burnt-offering, a voluntary sacrifice of an animal (sheep or cattle) or bird (either a pigeon or turtledove) that was completely burned upon the altar. Rashi, citing the Midrash (Vayikra Rabba 3:5), notes the implication in the verse (1:17) that when a bird was offered as an ola, its wings were burnt on the altar together with the rest of the bird. The Midrash comments, "No normal person can smell the odor of burnt wings without being disgusted; so why did the verse say that it should be offered? So that the altar would be satiated and glorified by the sacrifice of a poor man." Meaning, it was generally members of the lower economic classes who offered birds, rather than animals, as voluntary sacrifices. As an expression of God's particular affection for the poor and downtrodden, He ordained that the bird in its entirety including its wings be offered upon the altar, signifying the Almighty's special interest in the offerings of the poor.
Rav Yerucham Levovitz added further insight into this Midrashic passage, developing the concept of something that regular human beings find repulsive but that the Almighty desires. This notion, Rav Yerucham commented, adds to the message this Midrash seeks to convey, of the importance of exhibiting respect towards the poor. People generally tend to feel comfortable and at ease in the company of those who are wealthy, well-dressed and distinguished-looking. But when we come upon people with tattered clothing and faces bearing the imprint of poverty, hunger and dejection, we feel either uncomfortable or in some situations even repulsed. The wings of the bird-offering teach that the Almighty specifically desires the gestures of such people: the lowly and despondent. "For so says the elevated and exalted One, who dwells forever and whose name is sacred: I dwell on high and in sanctity, and with the despondent and lowly of spirit to revive the spirit of the lowly, and revive the heart of the despondent" (Yeshayahu 57:15). Whereas human beings instinctively turn away at the sight of the underprivileged, the Almighty "dwells" among them to revive their spirits.
The Torah therefore ordained that even the wings, the part of the bird from which people are generally disgusted, be brought upon the altar, symbolic of the closeness and affection that God feels towards specifically the underprivileged and despondent members of the nation.
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Towards the end of its discussion concerning the shelamim offering in Parashat Vayikra, the Torah writes, "The kohen shall offer them [the animal's fats] upon the altar; an offering of fire as a pleasing aroma; all the fat is for the Lord" (3:16). The final three words of this verse "kol chelev le'Hashem" ("all the fat is for the Lord") appears, at first glance, as intended simply to emphasize that all the chelev (intestinal fat) in the animal offered as a shelamim is placed upon the altar, rather than being eaten or discarded.
The Rambam, however, in Hilkhot Isurei Mizbei'ach (7:11), advances an additional, Midrashic interpretation of this phrase, which, presumably, he discovered in some Midrashic text that has since been lost:
One who wishes to earn merit for himself shall subdue his evil inclination, open wide his hand and bring his sacrifice from the nicest and choicest of that species from which he brings. Indeed, it says in the Torah (Bereishit 4:4), "And Hevel, too, brought from the firstborn of his sheep and from their fat, and the Lord favored Hevel and his offering. This applies equally to everything that is for the sake of the Good Lord, that it be from the most beautiful and the best: If one constructs a house of worship, it shall be nicer than his house of residence; if he feeds the hungry, he should feed from the best and sweetest on his table; if he clothes the naked, he should clothe from the nicest of his clothing; if he consecrates something, he should consecrate from the nicest of his possessions. It likewise says, "Kol chelev le-Hashem."
The Rambam appears to interpret the word chelev in this verse to mean not "fat," but rather "choicest," or "of the highest quality." This definition of chelev is well-documented. In fact, the Rambam himself, in his commentary to the Mishna (Terumot 2:6), explains a reference to chelev in Sefer Bamidbar (18:30) as denoting "choicest," and he cites as a proof-text a verse in Sefer Bereishit (45:18), where Pharaoh invites Yosef's brothers to eat chelev ha-aretz the choicest of the land. (See also Ibn Ezra, Bamidbar 18:29.) Thus, when the Torah establishes that all chelev must go to the Almighty, it refers homiletically to not merely sacrificial animal fats, but to all of one's highest-quality possessions. Whenever one does anything "for God," as a mitzva, he should utilize the very best of what he has and perform the religious act at the very highest standard.
From the Rambam's homiletic understanding of kol chelev le-Hashem, it appears that the converse is true, as well. Meaning, kol chelev all of one's highest quality possessions should be le'Hashem devoted to God. Not only must mitzvot be performed with articles of the highest quality, but one's highest-quality articles must be used specifically for the performance of mitzvot.
If so, then we could perhaps suggest a reason for the prohibition mentioned by the Torah in the very next verse, that one may not eat chelev (3:17). The Rambam himself understood this prohibition based on medical concerns: "The fat of the intestines makes us full, interrupts our digestion, and produces cold and thick blood; it is more fit for fuel [than for human food]" (Moreh Nevukhim, 3:48). On the basis of his comments in Hilkhot Isurei Mizbei'ach, however, we might propose a different explanation. The Torah perhaps wants to impress upon us that we are not entitled to make personal use of chelev, our best talents and possessions. Since kol chelev le'Hashem, the best of what we have must be devoted to the Almighty, we are enjoined not to partake of chelev, and to instead reserve it for the service of God.
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Yesterday, we discussed the prohibition against partaking of chelev (certain animal fats), which the Torah introduces in Parashat Vayikra (3:17), at the conclusion of its discussion of the shelamim offering: "It shall be an eternal statute, throughout your generations, in all your residences: you shall not eat any fat or any blood." In particular, we explored the possibility of a relationship between this prohibition and the preceding verse, which declares, "Kol chelev le-Hashem" ("all fat shall be for the Lord"), meaning, that all chelev of an animal brought as a sacrifice is placed upon the altar.
Indeed, Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his commentary, suggests a connection between the two verses, though in a different direction than the one that we examined yesterday. The juxtaposition between the two verses, Rav Hirsch writes, serves "to indicate the connection of the prohibition to eat these materials with their use in offerings." The Torah forbids partaking of fat and blood specifically because, as the preceding verses describe, they were the parts of a sacrifice even the shelamim sacrifice, whose flesh was eaten by the kohanim and the individual bringing the offering that were brought upon the altar. The "consecration" of these parts of the animal for this purpose results in a general ban on their consumption.
On this basis, Rav Hirsch proceeds to present an insightful explanation
for why the Torah emphasizes that this prohibition is not limited in time or
space: "It shall be an eternal statute, throughout your generations, in all your
residences: you shall not eat any fat or any blood." Torat Kohanim on this verse
explains the phrase, "throughout your generations, in all your residences" as
stressing the fact that the Torah forbids partaking of chelev and blood
even outside the
The question, of course, then immediately arises, why? If, as the Torah seems to indicate, the
ban on eating chelev and blood stems from the purpose they serve in the
sacrifices, why do they not become permissible for consumption after the
Rav Hirsch explains as follows:
It is
only the temporary destruction of the
The Torah
specifically extends the prohibition of blood and chelev beyond the time
and area of the
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The opening verses of Parashat Vayikra outline the procedure of the korban ola, or burnt-offering, a voluntary sacrifice that was entirely burnt on the altar. The Torah commands that the kohanim tending to the korban separate the slaughtered animal into pieces and place the pieces "upon the wood which is on the fire which is on the altar" (1:8). Rather than simply stating that the pieces shall be placed "upon the altar," the Torah goes through the trouble of specifying the wood and fire, as well.
The Gemara in Masekhet Menachot (22a) explains this seeming verbosity as
intended to establish a sort of halakhic parity between the wood and fire, on
the one hand, and the altar, on the other.
This phrase "upon the wood which is on the fire which is on the altar"
serves to equate the wood and fire with the altar, in the sense that they are
purchased with public funds.
Instinctively, one might have figured that the individual who offers a
sacrifice is responsible to provide not only the animal itself, but also the
fuel needed to sustain the fire that will consume the sacrifice on the
altar. The Torah therefore
clarifies that the wood and fire have the same status as the altar itself. Just as the altar itself was paid for by
the public treasury, so is the fuel on the altar supplied by the
Why is this case? Why should the public treasury be used to pay for the wood needed anytime an individual decides to voluntarily offer a sacrifice?
The answer, of course, stems from the fundamental notion of kol Yisrael arevim zeh la-zeh, which establishes a degree of communal responsibility for the actions of individuals. As Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg explains in his Yalkut Yehuda, even the voluntary korban ola was generally offered to atone for certain sins. In fact, the Torah itself mentions atonement in the context of this sacrifice (1:4), and Chazal speak of the ola as atoning for either sinful thoughts or for the passive violation of mitzvot asei. Though it is undoubtedly the violator who bears primary, personal responsibility for achieving expiation for his wrongdoing, the nation at large also must participate in this process, by virtue of their overarching accountability for the mistakes of individuals. Their participation is through the public funding of the wood on the altar, whereby the nation, together with the individual, earns expiation for their communal "sin" of allowing the individual's wrongdoing to occur.