May 13th: Emor
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
I had a really tough time explaining this week’s Torah portion to a Bat Mitzvah student. The problematic passage is in Leviticus 22, verses 21-22: “When a man offers, from the herd or the flock, a sacrifice of well-being to the Lord for an explicit vow or as a freewill offering, it must, to be acceptable, be without blemish; there must be no defect in it. Anything blind, or injured, or maimed, or with a cyst, boil-scar, or scurvy—such you shall not offer to the Lord; you shall not put any of them on the altar as offerings by fire to the Lord.” In a world where our morality insists that we value everything and everyone—regardless of their relative imperfections or differences, this kind of discrimination seems wrong.
One of the great advances of modernity has been the growing awareness that people formerly considered “unacceptable” are fully human and worthy of respect and kindness. Just consider the list of people who have been in recent years “upgraded” to full humanity: women, people with dark skin, LGBT+ individuals, mentally and physically disabled people, and, of course, religious groups—like us Jews! Can the Torah really be calling for discrimination against creatures because of physical “imperfections?”
Taking a breath, I noticed that I had made a great and curious logical jump—applying a description of ritually acceptable livestock to the general acceptability of human beings. Hmmm.
Perhaps this jump is not justified. Only some tuna or salmon is “sushi grade.” Only some beef is “choice” or “prime;” only some cuts are appropriate for steaks while others are better suited for stew meat or dog food. People, on the other hand, can be “imperfect” and still quite capable and worthy of respect. Indeed, the work of the modern disability movement has been to display how people disabled in one area of life can be quite able in others. The notion of denying a person with a limp or scoliosis the right to vote is both offensive and absurd.
The problem in the Torah, however, is that this notion of physical imperfections disqualifying holy service is not limited to animals. In the previous chapter of our Torah portion, God specifies to Aaron restrictions for active priestly service: “No man of your offspring throughout the ages who has a defect shall be qualified to offer the food of his God. No one at all who has a defect shall be qualified: no man who is blind, or lame, or has a limb too short or too long; no man who has a broken leg or a broken arm; or who is a hunchback, or a dwarf, or who has a growth in his eye, or who has a boil-scar, or scurvy, or crushed testes….may eat of the food of his God…he shall not enter behind the curtain or come near the altar, for he has a defect.” (Leviticus 21.17-23)
What are we to make of this passage? Is this one of those offensive passages in the Scriptures that we dismiss as a culture-bound and time-bound opinion that could not possibly be the Will of God? We in Liberal Judaism certainly do this with a number of Biblical passages. And, we are not alone. Though we may do our dismissals more directly, even the most Orthodox/Traditional of authorities approach some Biblical rules and subtly but thoroughly shut them down. An example is the “wayward and defiant son” passage from Deuteronomy 21.18. According to the Torah, such a young man—“who does not heed his father or mother and does not obey them even after they discipline him”—shall be taken by his parents out to a public place—and the men of the town shall stone him to death! This is a hideous passage, so much so that the Rabbis rarified it out of existence. While giving lip-service to the Torah commandment, they tightened and tightened the conditions, piling condition upon condition until the actual stoning could/would never take place.
So, did the priesthood really disqualify Kohanim for the various physical defects that are present in just about every human body? Would every mole or scar or remnant of an illness actually disqualify members of priestly families—especially important priestly families? Would they really look that carefully, or would the inspecting priest simply declare, “This physical anomaly is not what the Torah was describing as a ‘defect?’” Whatever the ancient practice—or resolution, Judaism has not had to worry about this problem for almost 2000 years. In Rabbinic Judaism—the system that replaced the Temple and Priestly system, physical qualifications were/are not of great concern. Knowledge, intelligence, and piety are the qualifications of Rabbinic standing, and there have been a number of famous and well-respected rabbis with various physical issues.
That being said, let us return to the initially problematic passage—the one dealing with acceptability of livestock for sacrificial offering. If we do not jump to the “quality” of human beings, there may be other reasons why blemished animals are banned from sacrificial offerings. It could be a matter of contractual integrity. If I vow the gift of a “lamb without blemish” in a moment of great need, delivering a blemished lamb would violate my obligation. The principle in this Torah passage could be that of fulfilling one’s word.
It could be a matter of the relative worth the worshipper himself places on the sacrifice. If I do not value the gift I give, then how should the receiver value it? We have been taught to be gracious and appreciative when given gifts, even if they are not to our liking or of the quality we prefer. However, if we know the giver’s intention is less than sincere or respectful—as God certainly would, then the quality of the motivation must certainly be a factor in the relationship.
Perhaps a joke is the best way to explain the point. Once upon a time, a person was digging in the back of their freezer and found an old frozen turkey. It had been there for a while—and had passed its expiration date some three years ago. Wondering what to do with it, the person noticed the “Turkey Hotline” phone number on the label. Quickly calling the Turkey Hotline and being connected to a chef, the person explained the situation. “How can I prepare this turkey and enjoy it?” The expert sighed and explained that enjoyment would be impossible. There is a limit to how long a frozen turkey can maintain enough taste to be good or perhaps even safe. “So there’s nothing I can do?” whined the consumer. “No, I’m afraid not,” said the chef. “Oh well,” resolved the consumer, “I can always give it to the church bazaar.”
When we bring gifts to the Lord, we need to offer them lir’tzon’chem—so that they are acceptable. It is a matter of respect for God and for the relationship we hope to foster.