Behar-Bechukothai: The Whisper

Behar-Bechukothai: The Whisper

 

This week, some stagecraft is employed as the Torah is read in synagogue.  The chant is reduced to a whisper and suddenly, the listener’s attention is focused as the volume is reduced  . It is the tochachah, the admonition, the sequence of punishments for the rejection of Gd and the covenant. The hush tones punctuate the ugliness of the message and convey a hope that these tragedies will never come to pass.

My generation, the post Holocaust, grew up in the shadow of the tochahah.  Jews, and selected others, suffered punishments that exceeded those described in the parsha. My parents whispered their stories of those times and that caught my full attention. This is a secret of  the Jews. How does one relate to the Gd that threatens punishment … and delivers.

The concept of discipline and instruction through penalty is antithetical to modern pedagogy.  Corporal punishment justifies the use of violence. Violence begets violence begets violence. Our worldview wants to break that cycle of brutality. The litany of the tochachah, read literally, conflicts with a modern worldview.

It is worse than that.  In the tochachah, Failure to recognize misfortune as punishment, and failure to reform, is chastised with additional, more severe adversity and disaster. Until the penitent sees his error and repents, things just get worse; it gets harder to see the errors when you are  hungry, dirty, and enslaved.   How can the victim feel about the Disciplinarian after her family is wiped out; after living like a hunted, burrowing animal for years. A hush comes over the whole Jewish enterprise.

 

The survivors of the holocaust and their offspring are confused. Which parts of this conglomeration of text, tradition, superstition, values, assimilation, accomplishments, etc.  are at fault?  What needs to be abandoned to prevent further tragedy? What should be kept? What was worth the agony? The ever worsening chastisements (culminating in death by torture scream for a re-assessment, but they do not help me sort it out. The terrible consequences show that their generation's approach did not work. 

                                                                                

We did not raise our children like our parents raised us.  My parents did not hit me, but, rarely, they raised the threat. We did not even threaten to hit our children. Our children react to misbehavior in  their children, our grandchildren, with explanation. It makes sense to me; I hope it works out better.

The tochachah is surrounded by rules relating to economic value. The first parsha, Behar, ends with the obligation to redeem the Hebrew slave.  The Torah thereby recognizes the descent to slavery may be precipitated by circumstances.  Freedom is a commodity that may be sold… temporarily. Liberty is very valuable, but its price is finite.  The tochacha is followed by the shekel-value of people as a function of age and gender. There is a weight of silver that equals my value to the authorities.  This surround of monetary value provides a context for the tochacha. The admonition is a humiliation, an insistence on humility. Recognizing the possibility of victimhood demonstrates that we are not indispensable; we are fungible for the most part.  Our achievements will not protect us.

 

I can love the Disciplinarian but the emotions are complex. I cannot fully understand my true value; but I know that it is finite. My perception of the world is a fantasy and all my corrections are off the mark.

Emor: defectives

Emor: defectives

Emor begins with disqualification from the sacrificial rite. Aaron, Moshe’s brother, and his descendants were chosen to be Cohanim, the clan that could perform the Temple service. Cohanim are forbidden contact with the dead (presumably to mourn them.) For ordinary Cohanim, close relatives, that are universally mourned, are exempted from the restriction. The kohen gadol, the High Priest ,has no exceptions. No matter how close the relative, the Cohen Gadol must remain  pure and avoid exposure to the  corpse tumah. The elevated status of the Cohen limits his life in significant ways:  the price of privilege.

The parsha becomes more cringy when it talks about the physical defects that disqualify a Cohen from performing the service. He cannot be blind, or lame or have an eye disease, etc. Now, there appears to be a conflict between the Enlightenment and Torah. Western culture has taught me to celebrate the triumphs of the disabled. The Torah disqualifies them from the Temple service.

I immediately imagine the blind, lame Cohen who, through simulations and extensive practice, knows just where to place the bowl to collect the sacrificial blood; places that blood in exactly the correct positions on the altar; waves the appropriate parts of the sacrificed animal; places the proper pieces on the burning altar and walks off to the appreciative applause of the Temple attendees.

Maybe I imagine this all wrong. I want the Torah to make sense to my contemporary self and show sympathy for the victim of Nature’s caprice. I do not want the Torah to offend my modern sensibilities. I confront the challenge of bringing these vectors into alignment.

The death of Aaron’s eldest sons, Nadav and Avihu, has demonstrated the danger of flawed Temple service. Perhaps the “disqualification”  of the flawed priest is really an exemption from the draft. The service would be too dangerous for a priest with a broken arm or impaired vision. That approach to the issue is an easy out.

More likely, the involvement of a priest with a disability would shift the focus of the service to the struggles of the challenged individual. The service would change from spectacle to human drama.  The intention of the author would be lost in sentimentality.

Having a disabled person perform the rite would display the cruelty of a Nature ruled by the One Gd. The sacrificial rite inherently includes a plea for Divine mercy and generosity. The performance of that rite by someone who had been deprived of some element of that goodness would lead to questions. Actually, the mention of the disqualification of the disabled in the parsha leads to those questions, perhaps in a more appropriate context.

 

The disqualification of flawed animals from the sacrificial rite is easier to accept. The altar cannot become a dump for unfit animals. On a deeper level, the demand for high quality livestock echoes the sacrifices of Abel and Cain.  Abel brought:” the choicest of the firstlings of his flock” and  Gd paid heed to Abel’s offerings. Cain, who brought less than the best, did not merit Gd’s attention. The consequence of this envy is the story of the first murder.  The wisdom of providing high quality has unforeseen consequences.

The requirement that sacrificial animals be unblemished is central to the story of the destruction of the second temple ( Gittin 56a):

The emperor went and sent with him (bar Kamtza) a choice three-year-old calf. While bar Kamtza was coming with the calf to the Temple, he made a blemish on the calf’s upper lip. And some say he made the blemish on its eyelids, a place where according to us, i.e., halakha, it is a blemish, but according to them, gentile rules for their offerings, it is not a blemish.

The blemish notwithstanding, the Sages thought to sacrifice the animal as an offering due to the imperative to maintain peace with the government. Rabbi Zekharya ben Avkolas said to them: If the priests do that, people will say that blemished animals may be sacrificed as offerings on the altar. The Sages said: If we do not sacrifice it, then we must prevent bar Kamtza from reporting this to the emperor. The Sages thought to kill him so that he would not go and speak against them. Rabbi Zekharya said to them: If you kill him, people will say that one who makes a blemish on sacrificial animals is to be killed.

Rabbi Yoḥanan says: The excessive humility of Rabbi Zekharya ben Avkolas destroyed our Temple, burned our Sanctuary, and exiled us from our land.

Was this story a prophetic vision of our parsha?

It is people who put the devil in the details.

Achrei MoΘ- Kedoshim

 Language is imprecise. Words are ambiguous, they can have several different meanings. This is a problem when trying to communicate in  science. [Before the emergence of Large Language Models, it looked like the intercession of computers, with the very defined language that they use, could go a long way toward solving that issue. With LLMs that opportunity may be lost.] In ordinary life, and in evolution, ambiguity is an important part of the power of language. The lack of precision allows ideas to flower. This duality is a constant companion to my writing . 

Kadosh, translated as "holy", the root of the title of the second chapter we read in synagogue this week, evades precise definition. That parsha instructs the community to be kadosh (holy). The chapter opens with: 

דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־כׇּל־עֲדַ֧ת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל וְאָמַרְתָּ֥ אֲלֵהֶ֖ם קְדֹשִׁ֣ים תִּהְי֑וּ כִּ֣י קָד֔וֹשׁ אֲנִ֖י

Speak to the whole Israelite community and say to them:

You shall be holy, for I, the ETERNAL your Gd, am holy.

This kadosh (holy) is some kind of matching a property of Gd, the most unfathomable entity in the universe.  Fifty one commandments ( mitzvoth) are then declared in this parsha. The commandments go from a prohibition of cheating in business  to the ban on mixing wool and linen in clothing. It is a whirlwind of admonitions  and prohibitions.

Does a person, after accepting these varied and numerous rules, emerge kadosh (holy?). The writings of the classic commentators on this sentence shows an evolution of the idea and purpose of holiness. Rashi (11th century) associates kadosh with sexual relationships. Ramban (13th century) asserts that kadosh implies moderation in all things. Sforno (16th century) sees kadosh as life affirming. 

If the parsha presents a  path to kadosh, it appears to be through the observance of laws that are stated, often followed by the phrase: 

I the ETERNAL am your Gd.

That phrase implies that the rationality (or lack thereof) of the commandment is not the reason for obedience. These laws are followed because they are (1) part of an agreement and (2) given by a far greater power [of both mind and retribution] than a human can fathom. [This list may be partial]. The road to holiness, to kedusha, is arbitrary and may not respect rationality. 

The lack of definition leads to  pronounced differences in the observance of these rules. For many, holy is a feeling (the undefined is kept in the realm of the undefined). You know holy when you feel it; more commonly, you can feel when you have violated it. 

For others, since the nature of the holy is unknown, only the strictest observance can cover all the possibilities; no detail is too small. This road can lead to the unholy states of self-righteousness and/or superstition. Is a thread of linen in a woolen garment the equivalent of offering a child as a sacrifice to Molech?  Who knows?

There is a relationship between holiness and place. This week's first Torah portion , Achrei, begins by recalling the death of Aaron's eldest two sons. It then immediately says:

דַּבֵּר֮ אֶל־אַהֲרֹ֣ן אָחִ֒יךָ֒ וְאַל־יָבֹ֤א בְכׇל־עֵת֙ אֶל־הַקֹּ֔דֶשׁ מִבֵּ֖ית לַפָּרֹ֑כֶת אֶל־פְּנֵ֨י הַכַּפֹּ֜רֶת אֲשֶׁ֤ר עַל־הָאָרֹן֙ וְלֹ֣א יָמ֔וּת

Tell your brother Aaron that he is not to come at will into the Shrine behind the curtain, in front of the cover that is upon the ark, lest he die

The implication is that Aaron's sons' violation of this rule was (at least part of) the reason for their deaths. 

The text goes on to describe the Yom Kippur temple service, the one day in the year that a human was invited to enter the innermost sanctum, the home of the ark with its Cherubim, containing the tablets (both intact and broken).  The specialness of this place was enforced with extreme prejudice. Violators of this most private of properties w/could be killed. A place where trespass is so violently banned - that is a place that is (most) holy ( kadosh) 

The association between place and sanctity reappears with the restriction of the sacrificial rite to the the (designated) temple.

וַאֲלֵהֶ֣ם תֹּאמַ֔ר אִ֥ישׁ אִישׁ֙ מִבֵּ֣ית יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וּמִן־הַגֵּ֖ר אֲשֶׁר־יָג֣וּר בְּתוֹכָ֑ם אֲשֶׁר־יַעֲלֶ֥ה עֹלָ֖ה אוֹ־זָֽבַח׃ 

Say to them further: Regarding anyone of the house of Israel, or of the strangers who reside among them, who offers a burnt offering or a sacrifice  

וְאֶל־פֶּ֜תַח אֹ֤הֶל מוֹעֵד֙ לֹ֣א יְבִיאֶ֔נּוּ לַעֲשׂ֥וֹת אֹת֖וֹ לַי

וְנִכְרַ֛ת הָאִ֥ישׁ הַה֖וּא מֵעַמָּֽיו׃ 

and does not bring it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting to offer it to GD: that person shall be cut off from their people.

 Acharei ends by tying  sanctity to the right to live in the promised land. 

וְלֹֽא־תָקִ֤יא הָאָ֙רֶץ֙ אֶתְכֶ֔ם בְּטַֽמַּאֲכֶ֖ם אֹתָ֑הּ כַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר קָאָ֛ה אֶת־הַגּ֖וֹי אֲשֶׁ֥ר לִפְנֵיכֶֽם׃ 

So let not the land spew you out for defiling it, as it spewed out the nation that came before you.  

כִּ֚י כׇּל־אֲשֶׁ֣ר יַעֲשֶׂ֔ה מִכֹּ֥ל הַתּוֹעֵבֹ֖ת הָאֵ֑לֶּה וְנִכְרְת֛וּ הַנְּפָשׁ֥וֹת הָעֹשֹׂ֖ת מִקֶּ֥רֶב עַמָּֽם׃ 

All who do any of those abhorrent things—such persons shall be cut off from among their people.

Kedoshim ends with the singularity of a people that is holy: 

וִהְיִ֤יתֶם לִי֙ קְדֹשִׁ֔ים כִּ֥י קָד֖וֹשׁ אֲנִ֣י יְ

וָאַבְדִּ֥ל אֶתְכֶ֛ם מִן־הָֽעַמִּ֖ים לִהְי֥וֹת לִֽי׃ 

You shall be holy to Me, for I GD am holy, and I have set you apart from other peoples to be Mine.

In many years, these two chapters, Acharei and Kedoshim, are read together. Connecting these title words becomes an aphorism: After death, [they (those that died) are considered] holy. There is some implication that perhaps, had they lived, they would not have  been thought quite so holy. To me, this usage, to a degree, refers to the holocaust. The sanctification of those murdered because of antisemitism, in the name of nationalism, has great political repercussions. I do not think that is wrong, but it may be becoming dangerous. 

When are you holy? How do you measure its value?

Tazria-Metzora: Tumah

These two chapters are the peaks of impurity. They deal exclusively with details of the diagnosis and treatment of Tumah.  The word tumah does not translate well into modern languages. I see it most frequently translated as "ritually unclean."  It is not dirt. It is a condition that isforeign to us, it is part of that ritual world. A person or object that is in a tumah state  may not enter a holy space, or eat sanctified food, or touch a sanctified object. Tumah is a disqualification for participation in the sacred ritual.

Tumah is a transmissible property. Usually its intensity decreases as it moves from object to object. The tumah that emanates from the a person's state of being, like the tumah of tzoraath ("leprosy") or ziva (gonorrhea) is particularly intense. The most severe tumah is a dead body. 

The ritual status of a woman who has just given birth to a child is very difficult to understand. Blood that originated in the uterus seems to have a tumah property. Childbirth is associated with such blood and, I presume that is the basis for the first 7 ( for a boy) or 14 ( for a girl) days of tumah after childbirth. The following 33 ( for a boy) or 66 ( for a girl) days of taharah ( ritual purity)  carry with them the restrictions of tumah ( impurity) -  but are called tahor ( pure). The countdown of days is followed by a purification ritual that involves birds (and a lamb, if the woman is wealthy) 

To my modern modern mind, it seems strange to penalize a woman ritually (she is banned from the sacred place, sacred objects, and sacred food for a month or two) and financially ( sacrificial animals were probably expensive) for having a baby. But that sense of injustice comes from the underlying assumption that tumah ,and the banishment that accompanies it, is a punishment. I am not sure that reasoning is correct. 

 It is easy to assume that tumah devolves from an inappropriate act of the victim. That line of reasoning devolves from Gd's involvement in this process. Through the lens of the modern, Tumah appears to be a state in which one cannot come close to Gd and the sacred. Tumah stinks; tumah is ugly; tumah is inappropriate. The dirty child has failed to be careful (or continent). To stand before royalty, one must be clean, odorless and well dressed. Failure to be in that state is the fault of the supplicant.  

The severe and long lasting tumah of tzoraath (the King James committee calls it leprosy) feels like a punishment.  The Talmud lists behaviors that cause tzoraath ( Arachin 16a): 

אָמַר רַבִּי שְׁמוּאֵל בַּר נַחְמָנִי אָמַר רַבִּי יוֹחָנָן: עַל שִׁבְעָה דְּבָרִים נְגָעִים בָּאִין — עַל לָשׁוֹן הָרָע, וְעַל שְׁפִיכוּת דָּמִים, וְעַל שְׁבוּעַת שָׁוְא, וְעַל גִּילּוּי עֲרָיוֹת, וְעַל גַּסּוּת הָרוּחַ, וְעַל הַגָּזֵל, וְעַל צָרוּת הָעַיִן.

§ Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥmani says that Rabbi Yoḥanan says: Leprous marks come and afflict a person for seven sinful matters: For malicious speech, for bloodshed, for an oath taken in vain, for forbidden sexual relations, for arrogance, for theft, and for stinginess.

The Gd of Justice is invoked as the agent of disease. 

Modern people try to blame the victims of disease, too. It is a way to avoid the indiscriminate aspect of degeneration and  contagion. Diet and exercise have some impact on health, but most of the factors that determine freedom from disease are out of the individuals control (time, genes, principles of biology). It has become inconvenient to invoke Divine justice as the responsible agent when we see extremely sick young children suffer from cancers. 

Although we dedicate almost two chapters of the Torah to these tumah states, they no longer apply. The sacred place, the sacred food and the sacred objects have disappeared.  The remnants that remain serve other purposes.

Lepers searched their past deeds for causes of their plight. People with cancer often do the same (but in more modern terms). Even in the absence of disease there is a value in searching  one's deeds, and staying clean. Maybe it helps a little. 

Shimini: steel

 

Shimini: Hard or malleable. 

It takes seven days to complete the preparations. The inauguration of Aaron and his four sons into the priesthood took 7 days. The eighth day was the graduation. Two of the sons, Nadav and Avihu, went too far. They tried something new. The outcome was fatal for them and solidified the priesthood of Aaron and the remaining sons.

The inauguration had been carried out on the orders (Tzav, meaning order, is the appellation of the preceding Torah portion). The lethal consequences of following some orders and ignoring others are described in this week’s reading. The persistent obedience (to a great, but incomplete, extent [they did not eat a prescribed portion of sacrificial meat after the death of their son/brother]) proves the soldier-like loyalty of the remaining three priestly initiates. Perhaps the deaths of Nadav and Avihu were needed for this trial and the proof that devolves from it.

The eighth day of Passover (yesterday) is one of the four days in the year when Yizkor [remembrance of the departed] is intoned. Yom Kippur, celebrated by many Jews, draws more people than usual to the Synagogue. Yizkor on Yom Kippur is a fund-raising opportunity since the text of the service calls for a charity pledge. The other three occasions for Yizkor are on the last (extra) days that end the pilgrimage festivals that were added by the Rabbis (and have never been celebrated in the land of Israel)

When I was a boy, Yizkor was a huge draw to synagogue. As the child of holocaust survivors, I lived in neighborhoods where there were many survivors and many other Jews who had (relatively recently) lost close relatives in the Shoah. Everyone came to Yizkor. Most did not observe the Sabbath; many had abandoned other Jewish traditions. The crowds were huge. Additional seating and special services were arranged for the overflow. Most left in tears after remembering. Now, I, too leave Yizkor In tears mostly for how I imagine: my cousins being murdered as children, my uncles and aunts shot and gassed, my grandparents tortured and killed. There was no one left to teach me how to be a grandfather.

These Yizkor Jews were experiencing the test of Aaron: could they maintain a connection to an identity that is so dangerous (it had decimated their numbers)  and so painful?  The answers varied in detail, but many (perhaps most) kept the identity despite the cost. 

The loyalty of the veteran soldier is special. Steel  is hardened by bringing It to high temperature  and then quickly cooling (quenching) it. On a molecular level, the iron atoms are set into random motion, they are disordered and then fixed in place. That process makes the steel harder, but more brittle; it breaks and does not bend.  Relief from trauma often  resets the order( of thinking) in a less changeable mode.

This trick of heating and cooling to reset opinion is put to use by the manipulators: politicians, commercial interests, social media. The heat of war creates implacability. Sometimes, shaking up ideas is good. There is a role for strong ( but brittle) steel. Slow (thoughtful) cooling leaves the metal more malleable and capable of a better reaction to future stress. The bendable reed survives the wind that breaks a tree.  

Tzav Shabbath Hagadol

I read the parsha each week for perspective. I recognize that this moment comes in the context of the past. The parsha comes from a barely accessible, ancient point of view. The parsha has been preserved over millennia and continues to influence the world view of millions of people, myself included.  When the parsha deals with instructions to the priests on the details of the sacrificial rite  and the initiation ritual for the high priest, I wonder why this section is preserved . What does it mean for me, living in an era when there is no temple, when animal sacrifice is disdained, when the entire temple ritual is foreign. Am I wasting my time reading and thinking about these things?

The haftarah from Malachi deals with this issue. Malachi, the last of the prophets, offers a bridge between the people of the Exodus from Egypt and the remnant of Jews who emerged from Persia and built a replacement Temple in Jerusalem. The Haftarah starts (translation: Revised JPS, 2023 in Sefaria) :

Then the offerings of Judah and Jerusalem shall be pleasing to GD as in the days of yore and in the years of old.

This verse is quoted as the last line of the last meditation that follows the Amidah, the core prayer for all services. It links the prayer service to the temple service (which it replaces) 

 

The next verse in the haftarah is more modern: 

 

But [first] I will step forward to contend against you, and I will act as a relentless accuser against those who have no fear of Me: Who practice sorcery, who commit adultery, who swear falsely, who cheat laborers of their hire, and who subvert [the cause of] the widow, orphan, and stranger, said GOD of Hosts.

 

This verse invokes a GD that is independent of the Temple service. It is the Gd that protects the laborer, the widow, the orphan, the stranger. It is the Gd that fits with ambient culture; the Gd that Gentiles can understand and (claim to) accept. 

 

The mission of reconciliation between the old ways and the successive generations is stated in the last verse of the haftarah ( the last verse in the books of the prophets). 

 

וְהֵשִׁ֤יב לֵב־אָבוֹת֙ עַל־בָּנִ֔ים וְלֵ֥ב בָּנִ֖ים עַל־אֲבוֹתָ֑ם פֶּן־אָב֕וֹא וְהִכֵּיתִ֥י אֶת־הָאָ֖רֶץ חֵֽרֶם׃ 

He shall reconcile parents with children and children with their parents, so that, when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.

 

I am moved by the mutuality of the verse. First, the parents will return their hearts to the children; after that the hearts of the children (will return) to their parents.  The prophet is demanding that parents understand the children's perception that the world has fundamentally changed.  Questioning the old ways and the old rules is a valid enterprise.  The claims of youth cannot be dismissed as purely immature prattle; they deserve consideration.  

 

Once the youthful claims are stated, the parents can see how they devolve from the past and, from the parent's perspective, may lead to destruction. By definition, revolution will tear down the old ways that some hold precious. The generation that sees its own passing must ask what is worth keeping, what can actually be preserved. 

 

Malachi, the prophet, is a defender of the old. Malachi has the humility to recognize the  danger of change. No one understands the world well enough to identify rituals that are superfluous. We do not know what supports the world. It is a game of Jenga. 

 

Tzav, the title word of this week's parsha means "command." It is an order and requires no reason or justification. The ritual must be performed. The nation and the world depend upon it. Its meaning may be revealed later, much later.  That revelation is implied in the penultimate verse of Malachi, which we repeat to end the haftarah. 

Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome, fearful day of GD.

 

This brings to mind the end of the Shabbath zemer (song) Mah Yediduth: 

 

מֵחֶבְלֵי מָשִֽׁיחַ. יֻצָּֽלוּ לִרְוָחָה.

 

They (the celebrants of Shabbath) will be rescued  from the pangs of the (coming of the) Messiah. 

 

In times like these, when missiles streak across the sky and bombs destroy homes and lives, I wonder if we are experiencing these pangs of the Messiah. The tradition tells me it will be worth it. The youth that is left in me, as a modern person, questions it. Time will unify my two hearts.  

 

 

 Vayikra: Evolution

Vayikra describes the sacrificial rite.  This English expression has a misleading nuance. Sacrificial has evolved to mean a (painful)  loss for a significant cause. Sacrifice is used to describe the soldiers who die  for the cause of their country. Money  or  labor or time dedicated to an unselfish endeavor is called a sacrifice. The etymology of the word is revealed by its clear relationship to sacred. The original, Latin, meaning was to make (facere) something sacred (sacer). I am not sure what the Romans understood as sacred.  The word took on the trappings of Christianity implying human sacrifice (Christ-like holiness) and then became secularized, losing all relationship to sanctity, as the  concept of holiness  became increasingly distant  and obscure. Now, the reader needs to work to restore that sacred part of sacrifice - not every reader will do it. 

The word rite has come to have a somewhat negative overtone. Rite implies a ceremony without clear purpose or meaning, usually done by some "other" cult or religion. The secularization of the English speaking culture does not leave  any alternative words that are significantly less negative (that I can think of or find in the thesaurus). There is a deep cultural barrier that spills over into language that makes it more than difficult to appreciate or understand what the activities described in Vayikra meant to the ancient participant. 

The rituals described in the parsha have not been done for thousands of years. They are preserved in the words of description. To the devout, the rituals described in the parsha should continue, they are (somehow) the basis for continued existence; in their absence the world would return to chaos. The recitation of the words serves to maintain enough of the power of this ceremony to keep the world going... until the actual performance can be re-established with the rebuilding of the Temple (on the land currently used for Moslem devotion). 

 Offerings to Gd have a checkered past. The sacrifices of Noah and the patriarchs are positive. Noah's post-flood sacrifice elicited a Divine promise of no more universal, genocidal floods. 

The first sacrificial story involves the (apparent) motive for the first murder. Cain brought an offering from the "fruit of the soil" and his younger brother, Abel, brought "the firstlings of his flock." Cain's rejection in the face of Abel's acceptance seems to have led to the murder. 

As a narrative, the book of Vayikra that we start this week, builds to the climax of Nadav and Abihu, the elder sons of Aaron, dying because of an error in their sacrificial activities. Aaron and his remaining two sons'  continued adherence to the rite seems to be part of their qualification for the priestly status. 

The current war between Israel/US and Iran could be viewed as a continuation of the battle among rituals (Moslem, Jewish, Christian, etc.). It is hard for me to know the motivations of a theocratic state, but I certainly hope that the preserved ritual is not the basis for additional homicide.  Looking for other, more "rational" motivations of economics, power and pride leaves me in no better position to justify the killing and destruction.  

The spectrum of Jewish sentiment about the war is more familiar to me. The overriding consideration in Israel is the  threat of (nuclear) annihilation. Such threats have been expressed verbally by the Iranian religious leadership  and threatening acts ( through proxies) have caused death and destruction in Israel.  The theocratic  nature of the Iranian state leads to the suspicion of implacability: nothing can be done to change the beliefs and behaviors of such an avowed enemy. 

On the Jewish side, there is a contingent with religious motivations who are willing to kill or be killed for the re-establishment of the Temple and its sacrificial rite, but it so tiny, it may not exist outside the realm of fantasy. The overwhelming majority  of those who say they want the Temple will wait for Divine intervention and do not want war for that.  Maybe it is the same in Iran, maybe not.  Gd tells us Cain's motives , in every other case: motive is a guess.