This week’s parasha is acharei mot, and is found in chapters 16-18 of Leviticus – Sefer Vayikra. Following upon the sudden death of Aaron’s two sons, a detailed account of the proper procedures for the purification of the Mishkan is given. The wilderness sanctuary was to be a place of atonement.
In the grand scheme of things, The Book of Leviticus was never placed high on the list of texts that Reform Jews loved to study. In the 19th century and early 20th century, efforts were made to put as much distance between the sacrificial cult of the ancient Temple and so-called “modern” Jewish sensibilities. If the text of Leviticus was read on Shabbat in Reform synagogues at all, the passages chosen for bnai mitzvah during those weeks when Leviticus was read, were carefully redacted. No one needed to hear detailed accounts of sacrificial blood being dashed against the altar. Such readings interfered with the enjoyment of the Kiddush luncheon that followed. The custom of my own congregation was not unusual. The cycle of Torah readings was rearranged. Reading Leviticus was postponed to the middle of the summer, in exchange for Deuteronomy. That was a shame because there were intriguing passages that went unread, and as a result, unknown.
Consider this verse:
The Priest shall dash the blood against the altar at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting and send the fat up in smoke as a pleasing aroma to the Eternal; and no more may they offer sacrifices to the goat demon to whom they prostitute themselves. (Leviticus 17:6-7).
The clear meaning of the text is that, up to this point, Israelites were offering sacrifices to the goat demon, but now the practice is forbidden. Practices once deemed acceptable were no longer acceptable. Despite the professed loyalty of the Israelites to the God of Moses that rescued them from Egyptian slavery, the Israelites were still worshiping a demon. Extraordinary! But wait, there’s more! The goat demon was a god of the underworld, the abode of the dead. That is just the kind of thing that would have riveted the attention of a bar mitzvah student. The religion of Israel is evolving.
The more I take in the details of the text of the Torah, the more I am made aware of the rich layering of religious beliefs and practices, new layers on top of old, that reside within. That we have survived and flourished for three millennia is a tribute to our willingness to adapt, even when we claim to have changed nothing. Our study of our tradition and texts today is the first step in adding the next layer. What will be set aside? What will be absorbed? Only the next millennium will tell.
