PARSHA THEMES
Eitan Mayer
PARASHAT TZAV
Sefer VaYikra (Leviticus) opens with the “korbanot manual,” seven perakim (chapters) of instructions about sacrifices: what different types of sacrifices there are, under what conditions we are to bring each sacrifice to Hashem, and all of the details about the actual process of sacrifice and its aftermath (e.g., when and by whom various korbanot are to be eaten). To many of us nowadays, this manual is not only technical and unfamiliar, but can seem like a closed book. Our goal, then, is to unpack some of the ideas behind the korbanot: when we bring each of the various different types of korban, what are we trying to accomplish? How do the details of the process of bringing each type of korban effectively accomplish what we want/need to do? (As usual, we draw on a variety of sources. Almost none of these ideas are my own.)
Our first step is to get our bearings. Why is this manual placed here at the opening of Sefer VaYikra, between the completion of the construction of the Mishkan (portable Temple) in Sefer Shemot (Exodus) and the Mishkan’s inauguration in VaYikra? The most accessible answer seems to be that since the inauguration’s centerpiece is its korbanot, we need to know what the different types are, how they are brought, and what is the purpose of each, otherwise the inauguration won’t mean much to us.
LAST WEEK: THE “SHELAMIM”:
Last week we looked at one of those types of korbanot—the shelamim—and discussed some of its details and their significance:
1) Possible meanings of the name “shelamim.”
2) Under what circumstances I would bring a shelamim.
3) We focused especially on the parts of the shelamim offered to Hashem on the mizbe’ah (altar): the helev (certain parts of the animal’s fat), a symbol of the best, richest part, given to Hashem, and the blood, the symbol of life, placed on the mizbe’ah before Hashem to show respect for life and recognition that Hashem is the master of life—a crucial lesson in context of the shelamim, since we are given permission to take life for food. This is also why the Torah stresses the prohibition of eating blood particularly in the shelamim context: we have to be reminded that life must be respected even when we are given permission to take it. Eating the symbol of life would obviously show disrespect for the sacredness of life.
A “SIN-OFFERING?”
This week we will look at a different type of korban: the korban hattat, the so-called “sin-offering.”
First of all, what does “hattat” mean? Usually, translators translate the korban hattat as “sin-offering.” This is no shock, since “hattat” means “sin.” When I commit a sin inadvertently, I must bring a korban hattat to Hashem to atone for the sin: in order to be forgiven for particularly serious averot, I need to do teshuva and also bring a korban hattat. The problem with this translation of “hatta” is that according to the Torah, I must bring a korban hattat not just when I sin, but also on many other occasions which seem to have nothing at all to do with sin. Here are some examples:
1) Yoledet: a woman who gives birth becomes tamei (ritually impure), and when she reaches the end of the period of impurity, she must bring a korban hattat. Surely there is no sin in giving birth! If anything, the parturient (yoledet) deserves a parade, not penance! What is the hattat for, then? (Some talmudic authorities, such as R. Shimon b. Yohai, propose that the yoledet, overcome by pain, swears “I’ll never do this again!” and then usually violates the oath by having another baby. But see Shevuot 8a, this appears not to be the mainstream position; if so, why does she bring a “sin-offering”?)
2) Zav: a man who experiences a gonorrheal genital several times becomes tamei. When the discharge stops and he goes through a period of seven clean days, he can then purify himself—and he must also bring a hattat (in most cases). But since there is no sin here, why is there a “sin-offering”?
3) Zava: a woman who experiences a menstrual blood flow at an unexpected time, and which continues for three days, becomes tamei. When the blood stops and she marks a period of seven clean days, she can then purify herself—and she must also bring a hattat. But since there is no sin here, why is there a “sin-offering”?
4) Metzora: someone who has the skin condition called tzara’at (formerly translated “leprosy,” now often translated “scale disease”) becomes tamei. When the metzora recovers, he or she must bring a hattat. But once again, there is no apparent sin, so why is there a need for a hattat? (Note that even according to those talmudic authorities, such as R. Shmuel b. Nahmeini, who hold that tzara’at is triggered by sin, hold that the hattat itself does not atone for the sin; instead, the suffering brought on by the disease itself atones, and the hattat serves a different function; see Shevuot 8a.)
5) The Para Aduma: people who come into contact (halakhically defined) with dead human bodies become tamei. A reddish cow (para aduma) is slaughtered and its ashes (together with other ingredients) are poured over the tamei people; this is a necessary element in purifying the people. Now, the para aduma is referred to by the Torah as a “hattat.” But since there is no sin in contracting ritual impurity by touching a dead body (unless you are a kohen or a nazir), why is the para aduma called a hattat? There is no sin for which to atone!
6) The nazir: the nazir voluntarily takes on a set of prohibitions, usually for a set period of time: he or she swears off wine, lets his or her hair grow long, and must avoid all contact with dead bodies. When he or she completes the period of nezirut, or when it is cut short by his becoming tamei, he must bring a hattat. But why?
ANY OTHER POSSIBILITIES?
It looks like it will be hard to explain how all of these cases are connected in some way to sin. If so, then it is difficult to translate “korban hattat” as “sin-offering,” since the hattat is offered in many cases where there seems to be no sin.
One other problem—and here we are on the verge of a solution—is that the word “hattat” does not grammatically come form the word “het,” meaning “sin,” but instead from the word “hattei,” which means to “cleanse,” “purify,” or “decontaminate.” Where is “hattat” used in the Torah to mean “cleanse” or “purify” or “decontaminate”? Some examples:
1) Shemot 29:36 -- in the instructions given to Moshe for how the Mishkan inauguration ceremony is to be done, Hashem commands: “Make a bull as a hattat each day [of the inauguration] besides the purifications, and purify [”ve-hitteta”] the altar . . . .”
2) VaYikra 8:15 -- During the actual inauguration process, as part of one of the korbanot: “It was slaughtered; then Moshe took the blood and placed some on the corners of the altar all around with his finger; he purified [”va-ye-hattei”] the altar . . . .”
3) VaYikra 14:52 -- in the context of tzara’at ha-bayyit, a fungus-like growth which can appear on the walls of a house and causes tum’ah (impurity): “He should purify [ve-hittei”] the house with the blood of the bird . . . .”
4) BeMidbar (Numbers) 8:7 -- when the Leviyyim (Levites) are appointed as caretakers and transporters of the Mishkan, they are to undergo a special purification ceremony: “So shall you do to them to purify them: sprinkle upon them waters of purification [”mei hattat”] . . . and they will be purified.”
If the “hattat” in “korban hattat” means “purifying”/ “cleansing”—and not “sin”—then the korban hattat is not a “sin-offering,” it is a “cleansing offering” or a “purification offering.” This makes sense not only grammatically, but also helps explain why there is a korban hattat in so many cases where there is no sin at all, but there is instead impurity: yoledet, zav, zava, metzora, nazir, para aduma (the para aduma is referred to by the Torah as a “hattat”). Since the hattat is a purification offering, it makes sense that it is brought in case of impurity.
SIN AND PURIFICATION:
It makes sense that a ritually impure person offers a korbanhattat to attain full purity, but why does a personeto bring a korban hattat when he or she commits a sin? What does sinning have to do with being purified?
This brings us to a crucial element of the Torah’s perspective on sin: according to the Torah, committing a sin is not just a rebellion against Hashem (of course, committing an avera on purpose is more of a rebellion than doing so unintentionally) and a rejection of His command, it also has a spiritual effect on us and the environment. It produces tum’ah in us and in the environment around us. Not only has a person done something morally wrong when he does an avera, he actually affects himself and his environment when he does so.
JUST HAVING A PUFF?
When you smoke, you’re not smoking just for now—it’s not an activity in which you engage just for now and which is then over and leaves no trace. Every time you take a puff, you inhale little pieces of sticky filth which are distributed through your lungs. If you have a serious smoking habit, you eventually accumulate so much dirt in your lungs that you make it hard for yourself to breathe. And not only does smoking affect you, it also affects everyone around you—today we call this “second-hand smoke,” and medical studies show that exposure to second-hand smoke can be harmful as well.
The same is true of averot (sins): they are not just actions in which we engage and which then disappear forever (and for which Hashem may punish us) -- they have a concrete effect on our “spiritual lungs” and on our spiritual environment. According to the Torah, they make us tamei, impure. It is no surprise, then, that a person who does an avera needs to purify himself of the tum’ah caused by the avera: he must do teshuva (repent) and he must bring a korban hattat—a cleansing offering—to clean up the mess he has made through the avera. Note, though, that there are two completely different kinds of tum’ah in the Torah: “moral tum’ah,” tum’ah produced by doing an avera (and which cannot be transmitted to others), and “ritual tum’ah,” tum’ah produced by certain ritual situations, such as coming into contact with a dead body, giving birth, menstruating, becoming a metzora, etc.; there is of course nothing sinful about this latter type of tum’ah. What is common to both types of tum’ah—moral and ritual—is that both must be mopped up, and the “mop” for both is the korban hattat.
Getting back to “moral tum’ah”: what does the korban hattat actually clean? Where is this spiritual dirt? The first place where this impurity is found is in the sinner himself. But the solution for this kind of impurity is not to go to the mikvah, it is to do teshuva. The Rambam addresses this requirement in the last section of his code on the laws of ritual purity. He begins by observing that we all know that tum’ah is not dirt which is washed away by the mikveh; it is a status invented by the Torah for a particular purpose (what exactly this purpose might be, the Rambam addresses in his Guide to the Perplexed). But in order for the mikveh to properly “work,” the person who is dunking himself in it must be aware of what he is doing and intend thereby to become pure (unlike taking a shower to clean away dirt; the shower works just as well even if you are sleeping). The Rambam says that the same thing applies to “moral tum’ah”:
“Just as one who sets his intent on purifying himself [from ritual tum’ah], once he has immersed in the mikveh, he is tahor [pure] even though nothing at all has changed in him physically, so it is with one who sets his intent on purifying his soul from impurities of the soul [something like what I have called “moral tum’ah”—EM], which are evil thoughts and evil character traits; once he has decided in his heart to abandon those behaviors and has immersed his soul in the waters of knowledge, he is immediately purified . . . . May Hashem in His great mercy purify us from all of our sins, transgressions, and iniquities, Amen.”
Purify? From sin? What does impurity have to do with sin? Clearly, the Rambam is making the connection the Torah makes in many places between sin and moral tum’ah. Sin is not just a decision to disobey, it makes a mark in a concrete way.
Besides doing teshuva, in order to be forgiven (i.e., in order for the stain on his spirit to be cleaned) the sinner must also supply powerful “detergent,” and this is provided by the Torah in the form of the korban hattat. The blood of the hattat, which is placed on the mizbe’ah, is a symbol of life. As we will see as we go further in Sefer VaYikra, life is always connected with purity, so when the blood is placed on the mizbe’ah, the person who brought it is making a statement: instead of producing death and impurity through sins, he is committing himself to producing purity and life.
SPIRITUAL ECOLOGY: CLEANING UP THE ENVIRONMENT:
The second dimension of the hattat is that the offerer must also clean up the environment: he has to find every person who has inhaled the smoke from his cigarettes and make sure that their lungs are cleaned. In terms of the korban hattat, that means that when we make the environment impure by doing an avera, we have to clean up our mess. We have to counteract the impurity with blood, which represents life and purity.
Let’s look at some examples of how this works out in Sefer VaYikra:
Example 1: VaYikra 18:24-30 -- After delivering a long list of sexual crimes (incest of various sorts, male homosexual sex, bestiality, sex with a menstruating woman, etc.), Hashem warns us not to commit sexual averot so that they do not make us and Eretz Yisrael impure. This would be a strange equation (sin=impurity) unless we had made this connection earlier:
“Do not impurify yourselves through all of these [actions], for through all of these were impurified the nations whom I am sending away from before you [i.e., throwing them out of Eretz Yisrael—EM]. The land became tamei, and I recalled its sin upon it, and the land vomited out its inhabitants. You shall keep my laws and commandments -- do not do these abominations, neither citizens nor strangers among you, for the nations who lived in the land before you did all these abominations, and the land became tamei—so that the land should not vomit you out when you impurify it, just as it vomited out the nation before you.”
The word “tamei” appears here about seven times in as many pesukim; one gets the idea that this is a concept the Torah wants to drive home very clearly. Our actions affect not only our individual fates and spiritual stature, but affect the entire community and its relationship with its holy surroundings, Eretz Yisrael. As an antidote to the impurity produced by our averot, we must clean up the mess we have made of both ourselves and our environment.
FALL CLEANING:
Example 2: VaYikra 16:15-20, 30-34. Nowadays, we think of Yom Kippur as a day of teshuva and prayer. But when we had a Beit haMikdash (Temple), Yom Kippur was not just a time for teshuva, it was also time to let loose the heavy guns of purification in the Mikdash, to release the most powerful “hattat-detergents” of the entire year:
16:15-20 -- “He [the Kohen Gadol, High Priest] should slaughter the hattat-goat which belongs to the people [the whole nation] and bring its blood inside the curtain [=into the Holy of Holies] . . . and sprinkle it on the Ark-covering and before the Ark-covering. He should purify the holy place from the impurities of Bnei Yisrael, from their transgressions with all their sins; he shall do the same with the Ohel Mo’ed [the rest of the Mishkan], which resides among them in their impurity. . . . He should leave [the Mishkan] and go out to the altar which is before Hashem and purify it: he shall take from the blood of the bull and the goat and put it on the corners of the altar all around.”
What is clear from this command to purify the Mishkan from our sins is that the Mishkan is made impure by a year of the people’s sins. Their sins produce tum’ah not only in themselves, but also in the Mishkan itself! Every time a person commits an avera, he not only blackens his own “lungs,” he also dumps a buckof filth into the Mikdash, so to speak.
But why is the Mishkan connected with aver? Why is it made impure by our averot? The Mishkan is the focal point of purity and holiness in Am Yisrael. It is our spiritual lungs, so to speak, where we inhale Hashem’s presence, the place where the Shekhina rests in purity and holiness, the central source of our contact with Hashem and His holiness. It is only natural that the Mishkan is blackened by averot we commit; a little bit of the Mishkan’s purity is pushed out by a little bit of the impurity we produce. The same thing also happens to us as individuals, so once a year, Hashem commands us to bring on the heavy cleaning artillery and scour ourselves and the Mishkan from all the dirt with which he have filled it during the year.
16:30-34 -- Here the Torah summarizes by telling us what Yom Kippur is all about: “For on this day, you will be atoned for so that you will be purified [”le-taher”] from all of your sins; before Hashem will you be purified . . . [The kohen] shall purify the Holy of Holies, the Ohel Mo’ed, the altar, the kohanim, and the people . . . to purify the Bnei Yisrael from all of their sins once a year . . . .”
Again, the Torah makes it clear that both the Mikdash and the people are made tamei by the people’s sins, and must be cleansed on Yom Kippur. The reason this is such a serious business is the same reason smoking is such a serious business. A few puffs may not really hurt us much, but it starts to accumulate quickly—and sin, like smoking, becomes a habit. Eventually, the lungs become blocked to the degree that it is a real exertion to climb a few flights of stairs. Then the smoker develops a cough that won’t go away, or a frightening case of asthma. Covered with dirt, the lungs can no longer do their job. This is not just a technicality, it can become life-threatening; sometimes, when the lungs have had enough of the dirt we keep throwing down, they rebel and the smoker develops lung cancer.
The same is true of our own personal spiritual lungs and our communal spiritual lungs. When we ignore what Hashem wants, we begin to close off our spiritual connection with Him. It becomes a little harder to “breathe,” and we find that Hashem seems a lot more distant than He was before. And as we fill the Mishkan, His house, with filth, He begins to withdraw. Who would live in a house where people come to dump their garbage? Hashem is the essence of purity and holiness, and when we make the Mishkan impure, we make it inhospitable for His Presence. Inevitably, He moves out and withdraws from us. This is communal spiritual lung cancer—that is what it means when Hashem abandons the Mikdash and withdraws His protection and Presence from us. It is only a matter of time until another nation is sent to destroy the physical shell of the Mikdash, which we ourselves have already destroyed in a spiritual sense. And it is only a matter of time until the Land spits us out, no longer willing to tolerate our incessant dumping of filth everywhere, and we are forced to find our way in foreign countries.
Note that it is also natural that the more serious the avera, the more deeply the impurity penetrates into the Mikdash and the more powerful a detergent is necessary: when a member of the people commits an avera and must bring a hattat, the blood is placed on the mizbe’ah—the altar in the courtyard just outside the Mishkan building proper. But when a Kohen Gadol or the High Court sins, the tum’ah penetrates further, so when they bring their hattat, the blood is placed on the inner mizbe’ah, the incense altar which is actually inside the Mishkan. And when people sin purposely, the tum’ah is powerful enough to penetrate into the Kodesh ha-Kodashim itself, where the Ark is. Of course, a korban hattat cannot be offered by an individual for an intentional sin, but that does not mean the Ark remains tamei forever—as the Torah tells us, it is purified with the blood of the communal hattat on Yom Kippur, when the Kohen Gadol enters the holiest space on Earth and atones not only for inadvertent sins, but also for wanton sins: “pesha’im.”
BROADER IMPLICATIONS:
One of the most crucial implications of this system is that the entire community is together responsible, each individual for every other individual. Since everyone’s action affects the Mikdash, every individual is responsible to the community to clean up his mess so that the tum’ah does not accumulate in the Mikdash and begin to force Hashem away from the entire nation as a whole. In this way, the spiritual status of every individual in the nation is linked to everyone else’s—we all suffer the consequences of the sins of each individual, unless each individual is responsible and cleans up. In closing, I can only echo the words of the Rambam: “May Hashem in His great mercy purify us from all of our sins, transgressions, and iniquities, Amen.”
Shabbat Shalom,
Eitan
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