Vayikra -- 5775

And so the Book of Leviticus begins, with all its gore.  In the coming weeks, we’ll immerse ourselves in the ancient sacrificial cult of our ancestors: the blood, the fat, the ashes, the diseases.  Its real world stuff, and not for the squeamish.  The sacrifices brought them closer to God.  They were a duty and a privilege.

“If [the] offering to God is a burnt offering of birds, … choose [the] offering from turtledoves or pigeons.  The priest shall bring it to the altar, pinch off its head, and turn it to smoke on the altar, and its blood shall be drained out against the side of the altar.  He shall remove its crop with its contents and cast it into the place of the ashes, at the east side of the altar” (Leviticus 1:14-16).  Why remove a bird’s stomach when a bull, ram, or lamb’s stomach is to be burnt?  Why are the sacrifices treated differently?

Cattle are penned and graze only the on fodder given to them.  The rabbis (BT Hullin Chapter 3, Mishnah 4) remind us that birds, however, fly free.  They peck wherever they want.  A bird’s stomach, therefore, likely contains seed purloined from someone’s field.  Stolen goods are inappropriate gifts to God.

The bull, ram, or lamb must be unblemished, but no such restriction applies to the turtledove or pigeon. Its fault – the stolen seed -- is hidden, but real nonetheless.  When we sacrifice, only the best will do, even if the defect isn’t visible.

When we give of ourselves, whether to our families or our jobs or in communal settings, we are to give our best rather than what’s easiest.  Short cuts, cheap tricks, and easy-ways-out sully us.  The end result may appear just as good, but it’s not.  How we do what we do counts.  The means matter.