This week we begin the book of Vayikra, or Leviticus, which is largely concerned with the laws of the priests and the priestly offerings. Sometimes the piles of rules seems rather arbitrary and technical, but the ancient (and not-so-ancient) rabbis tried to discern moral and spiritual principles behind even the smallest details.
“And if his means do not suffice for two turtledoves or two pigeons, he shall bring as his offering for that of which he is guilty a tenth of an ephah of choice flour for a sin offering; he shall not add oil to it or lay frankincense on it, for it is a sin offering.. . . .” (Vayikra/ Leviticus 5:11)
Sefer Ha-Hinnuch posits two reasons for the ban on oil in the flour-offering of the penitent as described above. First, it points out that oil is a symbol of luxury and wealth in ancient times- that’s why anointing with oil was a symbol of priesthood and kingship. Yet this atonement offering should be one that evokes humility, contrition and introspection, and thus in this case, adding oil to it would be mixing messages, as it were.Secondly, the Sefer Ha-Hinnuch assumes that the verse above applies to a poor person, as it occurs in a section which explicitly states that the mitzvah is to bring a large animal- unless one didn’t have enough money for a large animal, then bring a small one, and if that’s still too great a burden, then just bring some flour. So, if the verse already assumes that the only person who would bring the flour offering is a poor person, it makes sense to forbid the use of oil or spices, lest the penitent feel pressured to spend beyond their means in adding to a small offering. Rabbi Neal Joseph Loevinger explains: “I learn two larger points from this commentary on the flour-offering. First, how we perform a spiritual practice affects the result of that practice. The offering was meant to be one of repentance, so it should be offered in a humble and plain way. Similarly, if we want to have spiritual experiences which transform us in joy, or humility, or gratitude, or reverence, or any other aspect of religious growth, we have to enter our prayers, practices, rituals and celebrations with the right framework to get us there. For example, if you want to have a joyful Shabbat- make your dress, table, house, songs and prayers celebratory and inspiring. If you want to be inclined towards great reverence and introspection on Yom Kippur, prepare yourself accordingly, inside and out. To put it another way- we need kavannah [intentionality or mindfulness] to do mitzvot, but it’s also true that doing the mitzvot brings us to kavannah. Finally, note that the ritual we’re discussing involves bringing a handful of flour, which our commentary assumes that even the poorest penitent could afford. In other words, the most ancient form of Judaism had at its very heart- the Temple offerings- an ethic of radical inclusion, at least in terms of socioeconomic status. The Temple- the place of the Divine Presence- was a place for rich and poor equally. The rich person’s big offering didn’t earn them any more atonement that the poor man’s flour offering; it only mattered that each brought something real and significant in their own sight.”
“If a person sins, and commit a betrayal against G‑d, and lieS to his fellow (5:21)” The Lubavitcher Rebbe asks: “How is the offender also defrauding G‑d? On the most basic level, he is defying the Supernal Author of the command, “You shall not steal.” Another explanation is that although it may be that not a single earthly soul knows what really happened between the litigants, G‑d is the omnipresent witness to their dealings; so in addition to lying to his fellow, he is lying in face of the all-knowing “Third Party to their dealings.” A deeper understanding of the defrauder’s crime against G‑d can be derived from another saying by Rabbi Akiva, in which he speaks of how G‑d “acquired and bequeathed His world” to man (Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 31a). Chassidic teaching explains this to mean that the concept of human “property rights” over the resources of G‑d’s the world is divinely ordained, and is integral to the divine purpose in creation: in order for man to be able to develop his environment into a “home for G‑d,” thereby making the world a true divine “acquisition,” each individual’s proprietorship over the portion of creation he is charged to develop must be defined and safeguarded. Hence G‑d’s “bequest of His world” to man is at the very heart of His own ownership–this is the manner in which the Creator Himself desired that His “acquisition” of creation be realized. Thus the Torah says: “If a person… commits a betrayal against G‑d, and lies to his fellow.” You have not only lied to your fellow–you have betrayed the “Third Partner”, depriving Him of His ownership of His world as He Himself defines it.”
Prepared by Devorah Abenhaim
