Animal Sacrifices?!

Based on an article from Parasha U’Pishra by Rabbi Moshe Grylak

Adapted by Braha Bender

Modern man recoils from the concept of animal sacrifices. Earthy rituals to satiate a blood-thirsty godhead? Primitive. Barbarian. Cruel. Paranoid. Disgusting.

Yet over thousands of years, generation upon generation of intelligent, educated Jews have accepted the temple service, including animal offerings, as a fundamental component of their Jewish consciousness. Were they embracing the simplistic, cultish religiosity modern man rightfully reviles?

Any scholar will tell you that a lot is lost in translation, and Jewish scholars would be the first to agree. Jews fast in commemoration of the day the original Hebrew Torah was first translated into another language because that was the day when so many of the misconceptions plaguing the Jewish People today began.* The concept of animal “sacrifices” is an excellent case in point.

Let’s begin with the original Hebrew. The Hebrew word usually translated as “sacrifice” or “offering” is  korban. Every Hebrew word contains a three-letter root linking the concept to a plethora of semantic associations revealing the meaning and personality, if you will, of what the word is coming to say. The root of the word korban is kuf-reish-ves which spells the word karev, bring close. A korban is not a sacrifice or an offering to satiate the lust of a self-absorbed heavenly ego-maniac. Please. A korban is a spiritual experience intended to bring one closer to the Almighty.

But what does that have to do with slaughtering animals?, you ask aghast. Now we can begin to talk.

Judaism teaches that coming close to God doesn’t happen by itself. It takes hard work, not because it isn’t obvious and wonderful and easy, but because it is so obvious and wonderful and easy that God needed to create a simulated self-destruction drive for the express purpose of providing man with free choice. In other words, God implanted every human being with a drive towards self-destruction, the yetzer hara , just to even the playing field. Otherwise, Judaism explains, the beauty and sweetness of serving God through a Torah lifestyle would be irresistible. There would be no challenge, and there would be no self-actualization. We would be like angels: automatons. Happy automatons, but automatons nonetheless.

Instead, God gave us the most precious gift in the world: the opportunity to forge our own unique identities through an ongoing struggle with the forces of evil conveniently implanted within our very own psyche. Be like God. Be a self-actualized, utterly unique and precious being. Wonderful, isn’t it?

It was an ingenious plan, but had one slight glitch. Sometimes human beings choose wrong. Instead of using our yetzer hara like a Stairmaster to strengthen our spiritual stride, we sometimes allow ourselves to be swept away in its toxic currents. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. We go back to square one.

But how to reverse the numbing effect sin has on our bodies? After all, making a mistake sometimes feels very, very good, even if we know how terrible the consequences may be. (Think adultery.) How do we viscerally remind ourselves of the true nature of the horrific act we just engaged in, wake ourselves up to get back in the game?

Enter the korban. Just like every other mitzvah, bringing a korban is not what God needs, but what we need. We need to feel the pulse of the living animal beneath our hands moments before it is slaughtered. We need to realize that are like that animal. What have we done? Moments later, the animal’s blood is pouring out, and the shock is like the coldest slap of cold water we could ever take. About-face! Our consciousness is violently corrected in its lackadaisical complacence.

Bringing a korban brings us close to the Almighty by demanding that we lessen violence, not increase it. The korban demands that we acknowledge the true consequences of our actions, without waiting around for time and entropy to finish the job in their natural course. We have to wake up now, not fifty miles down the river when our complacency to sin leads us to do it again and compound the problem. Sure, consequences will come calling, but why wait? The korban says, do teshuva now. Right now. And how can we ignore it? Jews are sensitive, compassionate people, the farthest thing from barbarians.

See what I mean about lost in translation? Behaving destructively to oneself and others is what is truly primitive and barbarian. Choosing the pleasure of a single, selfish moment over the pleasure of a lifetime of closeness with oneself, with other people, and with God is genuinely cruel. Sin? Disgusting.

 Judaism fights fire with fire. Action with action. Experiential learning speaks to the same reptilian part of the brain that supported the mistake. And in doing so, the korban really does bring us closer to God. Imagine that.

 *One of the tragedies commemorated by the fast of Asara B’Teves (the 10th of Teves) was the forced composition of the original Greek Septuagint by Ptolemy.