There are things in life that mystify us, yet we just let them go. Then there are times when we cannot sit idle when things get under our skin and bug us. We must find a solution to what bothers us. Even when we find an answer, the initial question can still bother us, since the solution may not comfort us enough to forget the issue entirely.
In this week’s Torah portion, Vayikra, where we are introduced to the idea of animal offerings in Temple times, I am asked repeatedly about this enigmatic mitzvah. How can it be that Jews placed an animal on the altar? How can we relate to this old-fashioned way of life? When we pay special attention to the idea that we pray every day for the rebuilding of the third Temple—when this practice will come back into our daily lives—this behavior becomes even more puzzling.
We can shed some light on this practice if we take a step back and see the bigger picture. Not only of animal sacrifices, but of the whole idea of bringing an offering to G-d, the items that were brought as an offering, and why someone would bring an offering in the first place.
If you really want to simplify the whole idea, you can say that G-d is telling us that if you want to eat meat, you can do so only if you take certain steps first. These steps are meant to make us sensitive to the life of the animal that we are taking. In the old days, you didn’t just go into the grocery store and buy a nicely packaged piece of meat. Rather, after you bought a live animal, you brought it to the Temple, and you prayed over the animal, asking G-d to take the animal instead of the person, thereby asking for forgiveness from G-d.
One may think that this sounds like apologetic Judaism, as if we were trying to justify barbaric behavior. Therefore it is important to continue to widen our lens and look at other items that were brought as accessories[R1] together with the animal. One would bring flour and oil. These two items represent our basic needs in life (the ingredients for bread). What is interesting is that one can also bring only flour or only oil as a gift offering as well, and not as an accessory[AS2] but as the offering itself. This tells us that it is the gift that matters.
To take this idea even further: On the altar there was a fire, a constant flame, the Ner Tamid, the eternal flame that never ceased to burn. The fuel for this fire was wood. One was able to offer wood as an offering on the altar, not as fuel for the fire, but to be brought as an offering! The wood burned the wood. [R3]
Now this is of utmost interest: To say that people donated wood to the altar makes sense, as it was an essential item for the Temple to run smoothly. However, how can wood be called an offering? It is one thing to call the accessories[AS4] to the animal an offering, but to call the wood an offering is taking it too far. Unless we understand the deeper meaning of an “offering.”
The Torah teaches us that a person is like a tree in a field. Just as a tree has roots and bears fruit, so too a person has roots and bears fruit, our children. Just as a tree needs watering, so too, a person needs to be educated, etc.
When a person brought wood as an offering to G-d, they were essentially saying, “I am bringing myself as an offering, I want to become closer to G-d.” Of course, G-d didn’t want us to put ourselves on the altar, so we put the wood in our place.
The whole idea of bringing an offering was for the person to become closer to G-d. On the most basic level, we look at ourselves as a tree—we have roots and we have potential. Are we bearing any fruit? Are we G-d-focused or self-indulgent? Laying the wood on the altar is key to recognizing our mission in this world, that the purpose of our mirroring a tree is to provide shade and nourishment for others, not just for ourselves.
The next stage is bringing the flour and oil. These are essential food items. As much as we want to be selfish and keep them for ourselves, we recognize the need to share.
The highest level of connecting to G-d is when we are ready to lay bare our animalistic self on the altar. Before we are ready to cut into the juicy piece of meat, we say, one second: let me do this right. Let me give part of it to the priest, let me make a contribution, let me do some soul searching. Let this joy in life not be so self-centered but let me be a little more spiritual.
You see, G-d doesn’t tell us that we cannot enjoy life, He tells us how we can.