The Purposes and Limitations of a Handbook

April 24th: Tazria and Metzora
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich

Though academics use the term “Documentary Hypothesis” for a particular theory presented by Julius Wellhausen in the late 19th Century, it can also refer to the general body of theories about the origin and composition of the Torah. The theories suggest that the Torah is not a single work written by a single author, but rather a composite document, compiling and editing several pre-existing documents from Israelite tradition. This accounts for the many anomalies in the Torah (in Hebrew, “koshi’s”) such as differences in writing style and vocabulary, different names for God, different versions of the same story, and different instructions for who is in charge of the sacrificial cult (Levites or Aaronides).

One can imagine how earth-shaking this was for traditional Jewish sensibilities—suggesting that the Torah was not written or dictated by God to Moses on Mount Sinai, but rather that it is a human work, written and edited by humans. The whole authority structure of Rabbinical Judaism was shaken, and thus do we have the continuing conflicts between Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist Judaism on one side and Orthodox Judaism on the other side.

In these “Documentary Hypothesis” theories, each book of the Torah—and often sections in the book—are identified as originating with particular groups and presenting their traditions. While the books of Genesis, Exodus, and Numbers are composed largely of narratives, the book of Leviticus—which we are now reading—primarily seems to be a handbook for the priests. It tells them the steps for the various kinds of sacrifices and how to perform other priestly duties. In this week’s double portion, Tazria and Metzora, the duties detailed involve the diagnosis and treatment of skin disorders and various molds and mildews that occurred in houses.

It may seem strange to us that religious functionaries would be tasked with medical or construction duties, but our weltanschauung (worldview) is much different than that of the ancients. They did not see the world as compartmentalized as we do. Since God created everything, then God’s guidance on everything was appropriate. Also, in a pre-literate society, the priests were the most educated people present and thus were given a wide range of responsibilities.

(On a personal note, please do not consult me for medical advice—or, for that matter, on automotive advice or for financial counseling.)

If Leviticus is, as it seems, a handbook of procedures for the priests, then it needs to be seen with its limitations. It is not the complete training the priest probably received. It is rather simply the technical manual outlining procedures and requirements. For instance, the early chapters deal extensively with the rules for sacrificial worship, but there is nothing worshipful or spiritual in the instructions. Does this mean that ancient sacrificial worship was devoid of spirituality—of kavvanah? My thought is that spirituality and prayerful intention was part of the process—brought to the worship experience by both priest and worshipper. The Torah speaks so often in spiritual terms, it stands to reason that there was a spiritual sensibility in the people of the covenant and that the sacrificial worship services were formats for expressing their relational response to God’s Presence. However, this element of worship is simply not the purpose of the handbook.

I would say the same thing about this week’s portions. Here, Leviticus tells us the technical details of the priest’s functioning, but it does not tell us about the “bedside manner” the priests presumably brought to their encounters with the Israelites. One suspects that some priests were better at relating to people than others, and hopefully the priest instructors taught by lesson and example the human touch that helps people through difficult situations.

Hillel even alludes to this in this proverb from Pirke Avot. He speaks of Aaron (the High Priest!) as an exemplar not just of technical expertise but also of humanity: “Be of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing it, loving your fellow creatures, and drawing them near to the Torah.”

Let us remember that, whatever we do, there are ultimately human beings involved, and that human beings—also created in the image of God—deserve respect and consideration. The technicalities certainly do matter, but the kindness and humanity of our actions can turn our deeds in blessings.