Animal Sacrifices: You or Them

by Rabbi Pinchas Winston

ONCE BACK IN the 1980s while driving a car I came across a talk show on the radio. Normally I would have just turned off the radio, but the topic gave me reason to pause, and the person calling in gave me reason to worry about the future of mankind. Those worries have since materialized.

The show debated whether animals should be used for scientific experiments. One man who sounded middle-aged said that he felt animals should not be used for such purposes, so after some give-and-take, the talk show host decided to push the envelope a bit and asked, somewhat emphatically, “So you’re telling me sir that if your son was dying and a potential cure depended upon animal testing, you’re rather let your son die?”

All of a sudden, there was silence. Unsuspectingly, the caller had found himself between a rock and a hard place and wasn’t sure how to get out in one piece. You could feel his uncertainty over the airwaves, and I like so many others listening in waited with anticipation for his answer. Would he stick to his liberal guns and “give up” his son, or would he capitulate to the question and contradict himself?

It could have been the anonymity or that he knew the question was only theoretical, but he did not change his mind. Instead, he answered that he would not allow an animal to be used to save a dying son, and you could almost hear a collective gasp, especially from the talk show host.

I don’t know whether he did it for effect, or because he was really upset, but the host did not waste any time making the man pay for his answer. “WHAT! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? ARE YOU SAYING THAT YOU WOULD RATHER AN ANIMAL LIVE AND YOUR OWN SON DIE?”

I don’t know if the caller sank deeper into his chair at that moment, but I felt myself doing it for him. I also don’t recall what happened after that, other than driving and thinking if the man really meant what he answered, or was just too embarrassed to change his opinion when it came to his own family. But I do know that many others share his opinion, probably more so today than ever before.

The matter is not much different when it comes to animal sacrifices. If the Temple service were to return today, you can be sure that animal activists would be circling the Temple, protesting animal sacrifices, and trying to shut down the service. Fortunately, when the Temple does finally return it will during the Messianic Era when all people will be on the same page as God.

In the meantime, there is debate, even on the level of the Rambam and the Ramban. The Rambam famously held that God only commanded animal sacrifices to wean us off of the heathen practices of that time. The Ramban strongly disagrees, arguing that the Torah’s use of God’s holiest Name when commanding them reveals just how holy they are.

There is no such debate on the level of Kabbalah. Kabbalah not only holds like the Ramban, but it even explains the impact animal sacrifices have on Tikun Olam—World Rectification. God obviously values His creations, especially the living ones and we even have laws about not unduly causing them pain. But when Adam HaRishon ate from the Aitz HaDa’as Tov v’Ra he damaged the world, and that has necessitated certain rectifications to fix it, often painful ones.

Like war, for example. How many human lives have been sacrificed on the battlefield over the millennia to protect good from evil? We obviously go into battle with at least the belief that we will return alive. But we know that there is a very strong chance that many will not, like in the Battle of Normandy in 1944, and yet we go out into battle anyhow.

Animal sacrifices also became necessary as part of the tikun process after the sin of Adam. His sin affected four levels: the mineral world, the vegetation world, the animal world, and the human world, and an animal sacrifice according to the Torah rectified all four. The salt used corresponded to the mineral world, the wood that was burned, the vegetation world, the animal that was offered up obviously rectified the level of the animals, and the human bringing the sacrifice fixed the level of man.

This may be why the Torah mentions on the word “vayikra” the Aleph is smaller to distinguish between the prophecy of Moshe Rabbeinu and Bilaam. The point could have been made elsewhere, like in Parashas Bilaam where it might have been more appropriate.

Making the point because of a word that implies God’s endearment of Moshe may be to tell us that sacrifices, like the opinion of the Ramban, are dear to God. You tell important things to the ones you cherish, and what follows after God’s endearing call to Moshe is the sacrifices.

Personally, I’m an animal lover. All animals fascinate me. I even talk to them but, don’t worry, I don’t hear them talk back to me, at least not in any language I can understand (although, I do get the drift when a cat arches its back and hisses menacingly at me). I have difficulty stepping on ants.

But I love God more, and my relationship with Him is the top priority. I’d rather no one have to pay for any of my mistakes, not even animals. But I make them, and the only One Who can tell how to fix them is God. And if that includes an animal sacrifice…
www.thirytsix.org / www.shaarnunproductions.org / @ShaarnunProductionsInc (YouTube).

Haggadah Shel Pesach, “The Wise Son Says,” is available in Paperback and Hardcover through Amazon and, PDF version, through Thirtysix.org.

Good Shabbos,
​Pinchas Winston
​Thirtysix.org / Shaarnun Productions

Rabbi Doniel Glatstein on Vayikra: The Meaning of the Vilna Gaon's Remez To All the Korbanos In the First Pasuk of Shema (video)

Rabbi Ari Kahn: Spring (video)

Rav Kook's Ein Ayah: Immediate vs Eternal Needs; Emotional and Intellectual Prayer

Immediate Vs Eternal Needs
(based on Ein Ayah, Berachot 1:137)

Gemara: [Yeshaya told Chizkiya, a righteous king, that he was going to die in this world and be excluded from the world to come. Chizkiya enquired why he deserved such a strong punishment.] “Because you did not take part in procreation.” Chizkiya explained: “It is because I saw in ruach hakodesh (Divine revelation) that bad children will come from me.” Yeshaya responded: “What do you have to do with Hashem’s secrets?”

Ein Ayah: Chizkiya, who, as a king, was concerned with the present, feared for the nation’s present situation. He saw, with the spirit of Hashem he possessed, that if he would beget children, they would be destructive, which would cause much destruction if they would sit on the throne.

However, Yeshaya said to him: “What do you have to do with Hashem’s secrets?” The significance of these words is as follows. Prophecy looks at the eternal situation of the nation, in regard to which the days of one generation are not considered to have much importance. If the chain of kingdom would be stopped and leave the ruling family, this could cause an eternal fall. In contrast, the stumbling block that could be caused by one wicked king who emanated from the seed that Hashem chose would pass because, at the end, the seat would be set on the base of justice and straightness. Therefore, Yeshaya was telling Chizkiya that he had no right to interrupt the eternal dynasty due to a temporary vision that appeared to him in ruach hakodesh.

Emotional and Intellectual Prayer
(based on Ein Ayah, Berachot 1:141)

Gemara: “Chizkiya turned his face to the wall and prayed” (Yeshaya 38:2). What is the wall? Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish said: from the walls of his heart.

Ein Ayah: There are prayers that come from an intellectual feeling. This occurs when the intellect looks at the crucial need to pray and recognizes prayer’s great value. Realize that the intellect is related to the spirit of the heart that dwells in the cavity of the heart. However, when one powerfully requests mercy, to the point that the physical powers are also moved by the emotion of prayer, and it turns out that the prayer works on the body and not only the soul, it is called a prayer from the wall of his heart. In other words, it does not come only from the cavity of the heart but also from the involvement of the flesh, as the pasuk says: “My heart and my flesh will sing out to the Living G-d” (Mishlei 27:22). (Mishlei 27:22).

The Rationale of Sacrifices

by HaRav Mordechai Greenberg
Nasi HaYeshiva, Kerem B'Yavneh

After Sefer Shemot concludes with the construction of the mishkan and the dwelling of the Divine Presence in it, Sefer Vayikra opens with the sacrificial service in the mishkan. The Rishonim dispute the rationale of sacrifices:

The Rambam, in Moreh Nevuchim, explains that the sacrificial service comes to draw man away from idolatry. The Torah took man's nature into account, and since common practice then was to sacrifice on altars to the gods, the Torah did not want to detach Israel entirely from this service. "That would have been as if a prophet were to come in our time, who would call for the service of Hashem and say: "G-d commanded you not to pray to him, not to fast, and not to ask his salvation in times of trouble." Therefore, the Divine wisdom retained the form of service that they were accustomed to, and moved it to the service of G-d.

The Rambam brings proof to this from the pasuk in Parshat Beshalach, "G-d did not lead them by the way of the Philistines ... for G-d said, 'Perhaps the people will reconsider when they see a war and they will return to Egypt.'" (Shemot 13:17) G-d was concerned there that Bnei Yisrael were not yet accustomed to act as free men. Here, too, he did not forbid them from offering sacrifices, until they would be detached entirely from idolatry. In short: There is no inherent value to the sacrificial service, but rather it is a means to distance the people from idolatry. Thus, we find in many of the Prophets that there is no inherent purpose in sacrifices, but instead they say: "Does Hashem delight in elevation-offerings and feast-offerings as in obedience to the voice of Hashem?" (Shmuel I 15:22) "'Why do I need your numerous sacrifices?' says Hashem." (Yeshaya 1:11)

The Ramban objects strongly to the Rambam's view, since according to him the entire idea of sacrifices is only, "to counter the wicked and foolish [people] of the world," whereas the Torah says that they have a "pleasing fragrance." He also asks from the sacrifices that Hevel and Noach offered, even before there was idolatry in the world. Rather, the Ramban writes that it is more logical that all the actions in a sacrifice indicate that man deserves to have all of these actions done to him:

He sinned to his G-d with his body and soul, and he deserves that his blood be spilled and his body be burned, were it not for the mercy of the Creator who took from him a substitute. This sacrifice atones, so that its blood should be in lieu of his blood, a soul in lieu of a soul, etc.

However, the Ramban concludes that while this fits well in an Aggadic manner, in the Kabalistic approach, "there is a hidden secret to sacrifices" The Meshech Chochmah, in his introduction to Sefer Vayikra explains that "it is to draw close all the forces of the worlds. It is something electric, spiritual, which, through the actions of the priest, do wonders in the various worlds."

The Meshech Chochmah further explains that, in fact, there is no dispute between the Ramban and the Rambam. The Rambam talks about sacrifices on an altar, which are truly to wean from idolatry, while the Ramban talks about sacrifices in the Temple, which have inherent worth, and about them it says that they have a "pleasing fragrance." These are the sacrifices that Noach and Hevel offered, and even the Rambam agrees to this. He explains with this the reason why it is forbidden to offer on an altar after the destruction of the Temple. This is because then the desire for idolatry no longer exists, and therefore there is no reason to sacrifice on an altar.

Perhaps we can bring proof to his suggestion that the Rambam does not negate the Ramban's words that there is inherent rationale for sacrifices. The Rambam writes in Hil. Me'ilah (8:8) as follows: "All of the sacrifices are in the class of chukim (decrees). Chazal said that the world exists for the service of sacrifices."

Rav Kook on Parashat Vayikra: Black Fire on White Fire

With the construction of the Mishkan complete, the holy structure began to fulfill its primary purpose: a conduit for communication between God and Moshe. “I will commune with you there, speaking to you above the ark-cover” (Shemot 25:22).

Before each actual communication, God would first summon Moshe to the tent, with a voice that only Moshe could hear:

וַיִּקְרָא אֶל־מֹשֶׁה וַיְדַבֵּר ה’ אֵלָיו מֵאֹהֶל מוֹעֵד לֵאמֹר׃

“God called to Moses, speaking to him from the Communion Tent” (Vayikra 1:1).

What was the nature of this Divine call?

The Miniature Aleph and the Four-Pronged Shin
The word vayikra (“He called”) is written in an unusual fashion. The last letter, the aleph, is written in miniature in the Torah. Did God command Moshe to write it that way? Or was this an expression of Moshe's extraordinary humility — an attempt to “hide” the aleph, so to speak, so that it would appear that God only “happened” (vayikar) to speak with Moshe, similar to the chance prophetic experiences of evil Bilaam?

We find a second unusual letter in the tefillin worn on the head. Usually, the letter shin is written with three upward strokes, but the shin embossed on the left side of the tefillin has four. Some commentaries connect this peculiar shin to the Midrashic description of the Torah’s transmission to Israel via black fire engraved on white fire. What does this mean? What are these black and white fires? 

Black Ink on White Parchment
When we think about a Torah scroll, we usually only consider the letters themselves, written in black ink. Yet, the Talmud (Menachot 29a) rules that every letter in a Torah scroll must be completely surrounded by parchment. This requirement is called mukaf gevil. In other words, the white parchment around the letters is an integral part of the Torah; without it, the Torah scroll is disqualified.

In fact, the white space is a higher form of Torah. It is analogous to the white fire of Sinai — a sublime, hidden Torah that cannot be read in the usual manner.

There is a delicate balance between black and white in the Torah. The shirot, the poetic portions in the Torah, are written in a special fashion, like a wall constructed from layers of black and white bricks. These poetic sections are the loftiest parts of the Torah. Consequently, they have more white space, as they contain a greater measure of the esoteric white fire. If a sopher were to write other sections of the Torah in this special layout, the Torah scroll would be rendered invalid. After the Torah was revealed and restricted to our limited world, it must be written with the appropriate ratio of black to white.

What about the four-pronged shin on tefillin? The mitzvah of tefillin is closely connected to the manifestation of Torah after its revelation into the finite world. “All of the peoples of the land shall see that the name of God is called upon you, and they shall be in awe of you” (Devarim 28:10; see Menachot 35b). Thus, tefillin correspond to the lower realm of black fire, and are marked with a shin bearing an extra measure of black.

We can deepen our understanding of the white and black fires by considering another example of white space in the Torah. Extra space is left blank to separate sections of the Torah. Chazal explained that these separations allowed Moses to reflect upon and absorb the previous lesson. In other words, the white fire corresponds to the loftier realm of thought and contemplation. The black fire of the letters, on the other hand, is the revelation of intellect into the realm of language — a contraction and limitation of abstract thought into the more concrete level of speech.

The Divine Call Before Revelation
The distinction between white and black fire also sheds light on God’s call to Moshe before speaking with him. The voice summoning Moses to enter the tent was in fact the divine call from Sinai, an infinite call that never ceased (Devarim. 5:19). The summons would reach Moshe as he stood outside the tent, before being constrained within the four walls of the Mishkan. This voice was not a revelation of Torah, but an overture to its revelation. It belonged to the esoteric white fire of Torah, before its constriction and revelation into the physical world.

This is the reason that Moshe made the aleph of the divine call smaller. Since it belonged to the realm of white fire, the summons required an extra measure of white space over black ink. Superficially, Moshe's miniature aleph humbly implies a diminished state of the revealed Torah of black fire, but on a deeper level, it reflects an increase in the esoteric Torah of white fire.

(Gold from the Land of Israel, pp. 179-181. Adapted from Shemuot HaRe’iyah IV by Rav Chanan Morrison)

Sacrifice

by Rabbi Dov Berel Wein

One of the categories of sacrifices that are described in this week's Torah reading describes the offerings that are meant to bring about forgiveness for sins that one committed inadvertently. The Torah details for us how the sacrifice was to be brought, and what its effects regarding forgiveness from Heaven would then occur.

Even though we live in a time when such animal sacrifices are not possible, one of the main lessons which is pertinent to us is that all forgiveness for wrongdoing requires true "sacrifice" on the part of the perpetrator of the sin. There is no free lunch involved here. The ability to request forgiveness for wrongdoing is completely contingent upon the true contrite feelings of the sinner.

And in our time, being remorseful can be expressed by one's willingness to sacrifice one's own time, wealth, abilities, and even social standing, to achieve the forgiveness so necessary for spiritual and physical survival. In many ways, we are accustomed to sacrifice to achieve goals that we have set for ourselves. We are willing to sacrifice much of our youth and its pleasures, in the hope that we will survive and live comfortably and nicely in our later years. We restrain ourselves, no matter how strong our desires may be, in the hope and belief that this will somehow bring us to a better future. We understand fully that without sacrifice, it is useless to expect forgiveness. And since human beings are, by their nature, imperfect, we are engaged in a continual process of sacrifice and self-restraint.

Rav Moshe ben Maimon – The Rambam - expresses the idea that the sacrifice of an animal on the altar of the Temple should engender in the mind of the sinner who brought forth the sacrifice that the sinner himself or herself should be brought on the altar. The animal being sacrificed is to be seen merely as a substitute for one's own self in attempting to redress past wrongs and trying to engender heavenly forgiveness for transgressions and sins.

Even though we no longer can bring such animal sacrifices on the altar of the Beit HaMikdash, we, nevertheless, can perceive ourselves as being the necessary sacrifice to accomplish our atonement and forgiveness. And this can only be accomplished through regret for the past misdeeds and the stronger permanent commitment of restraint over our future actions and behavior.

It is this deep understanding that we ourselves are the sacrifice that can bring us to a true attainment of forgiveness, in terms of heavenly judgment. In so doing, no detail of our behavior and actions can be considered insignificant or unimportant.

Just as the animal sacrifice cannot contain any blemish or imperfection, so, too, the mental, spiritual, and physical sacrifice entailed in obtaining forgiveness for our sins must be, as far as humanly possible, free from blemish and imperfection. This is a lofty goal to achieve, but it is the only sure path to goodness in life in this world and to the achievement of eternity in the Next World.

MY FOREVER RELEVANT PESACH TALE OF ONE FAMILY – TWO WORLDS

BS”D
Pesach 5785
by HaRav Nachman Kahana

Pesach in the USA
A frum (observant) family at the Seder night, living in any one of the great Torah centers in the galut – Flatbush, Boro Park, Lakewood, Los Angeles or south Florida. The home of Reb Sender and Mrs. Rayza is impeccable; the result of the great time and energy, not to speak of the huge outlay of money, which the expeditious and skillful ba’alat ha’bayit (woman of the house) has devoted to it.

The sofas and armchairs in the sitting room that look so inviting were it not for the thick plastic covers which ensure that the upholstery retains its “new” look.

The five-meter-long, Brazilian Mahogany dining room table is covered with the finest Irish linen tablecloth. In the middle of the table stands the imposing sterling silver candle sticks handed down from mother to daughter for generations. The china is the finest Rosenthal, with each plate delicately rounded off with a band of gold. The silverware has been put away in favor of goldware in honor of the sacred night.

On the table, under a hand embroidered silk cloth, lay the matzot. On the insistence of the two sons who are learning in the recently opened Yeshiva Taharas Ha’Torah (purity of Torah) in Las Vegas, in order to bring the voice of Torah even to the entrance of Gehennom, the matzot are from the first 18-minute batch, guaranteeing that no naughty piece of dough would be hiding in any of the rollers. The hand matzot were personally chosen by the rebbe of the shtiebel (homey synagogue) where the family now davens after leaving the central shul which was costing too much. The rebbe assured the boys that the matzot were bubble-free, with no overturned edges.

The wall-to-wall carpet is as deep as the grass in the beautiful garden. Above the table hangs the family’s pride and joy – a multi-faceted crystal chandelier, personally chosen by Rayza on the family’s last visit to Prague.

Reb Sender is wearing his new bekeshe (silk robe), the one with the swirls of blue, with a gold-buckled gartel (belt). Rayza has just said the Shehechiyanu blessing (gratitude for seeing this day) over the $5000 dress imported from Paris. The boys are handsome in their wide-brimmed black hats and the two girls will make beautiful brides when the time comes, dressed in their very expensive dresses imported from Paris.

The seder goes better than expected; words of Torah, beginning with an invitation to the hungry to join with them in the meal, despite the fact that there is not a needy person within 50 miles. A lively discussion develops on the characters of the “four sons.” The main course of Turkey and cranberry sauce is served, in the finest American tradition dating from the Pilgrims, of giving thanks to the Almighty for all His abundance. The afikomen (ritual dessert matza) is “stolen” by the youngest daughter who, for its return, has succeeded in extorting from Tattie a vacation in Aruba.

Songs of thanks to HaShem for freeing the Jewish people from slavery in Egypt are recited. For it is a mitzva on this night for each person to undergo a déjà vu experience, as if he or she were newly freed slaves from Mitzrayim.

Birkat Hamazon (grace after meals) is said, as is the second part of Hallel. Chad Gadya puts the final touch on the mitzvot of the night. Now, just as HaShem destroys the “Angel of Death” in the song, father jumps up and gathering the family in a circle, they all break out in a frenzy of song — L’shana ha’ba’a Be’Yerushalayim — “Next year in Jerusalem.”

Again and again around the table L’shana ha’ba’a Be’Yerushalayim is sounded. Louder and louder until their song merges with the same melody resounding from the neighbors’ homes, cutting a path into the highest realms of heaven.

Suddenly Mama collapses into a chair, crying hysterically. The singing stops. Father runs over and asks, “Why are you crying just at the apex of the beautiful sacred night?

And between tears Mama answers: “What do you mean next year in Yerushalayim? The table, the chandelier, the deep carpet, the Rosenthal china, the garden! How can we leave all this?”

Father approaches Mama and taking her hand while gently dabbing her tears away, in a voice full of compassion, says to his beloved Rayza, “Darling, don’t cry, IT’S ONLY A SONG!”

Pesach in Eretz Yisrael
Ten thousand kilometers to the east, in Eretz Yisrael, lives Reb Sender’s brother, Kalman and his wife Sarah, who came on aliya years ago with their five children and changed the family name to Yerushalmi. They were blessed with a beautiful family, an adequate apartment and much nachat. Their son, Yossi, will not be home for the Seder night; he was serving in the army within the Hesder yeshiva system.

The parents were not overly worried, because Yossi told them that he is in a safe place in the north and that next year they will all be together for the Seder.

At 12 noon, on the 14th of Nisan, erev Pesach (day before Pesach), Yossi and three other soldiers from the same yeshiva were informed that they had been chosen to fill an assignment that evening, on the Seder night. They were to cross into Hizballah territory in Southern Lebanon and man the bunker on hill 432.

Yossi knew the hill well; he had been there several times in the past year. It was sarcastically called a “bunker,” but in reality, it was nothing more than a foxhole large enough for four soldiers. Their assignment was to track terrorist movements and destroy them on contact. It was tolerable except when it rained, which caused the bottom of the hole to be soggy and muddy. But today, the four hoped that it would rain, even though chances were small since it was late in the season. On the 14th of every Hebrew month when the moon is full, crossing into enemy territory presents a greater danger; so, rain would be a mixed blessing.

At 5:00 PM, they were given the necessary arms and ammunition. The army rabbinate provided them with 4 plastic containers – each holding 3 matzot and all the ingredients necessary for a Seder – as well as 4 plastic bottles of wine, each one containing 4 cups, and of course four Haggadot (ritual text).

At 6:00 PM, they waited at the fence for the electricity to be turned off, in order to cross into hostile territory. Yossi held a map of the minefield they would have to cross. “It was so strange,” Yossi thought. “This is the area assigned to the tribe of Naftali, and we have to enter it crawling on our stomachs.”

At 6:15 PM, the small aperture in the gate opened and they passed through. As they had hoped, it was raining, and the thick fog was to their advantage.

At that moment, 10,000 kilometers to the west, it was 12:15 PM and Yossi’s two cousins in New York were just entering the mikva (ritual bath) to prepare for the sacred night.

The 4 soldiers reached hill 432 after walking double-time for 2 kilometers. They removed the camouflage and settled in, pulling the grassy cover over them.

Each was assigned a direction. Talking was forbidden. If any murderers were sighted, a light tap on the shoulder would bring them all to the exact direction. After settling in, they prayed Ma’ariv and began the Seder. It was finished within a half hour, and they were happy that the 4 cups of “wine” had no detrimental effect on their senses.

At 6:00 PM in NY, the family returned from shul to begin their Seder. At 11:00 P.M. the family was dancing around the table singing the song of hope that they will be in Yerushalayim the following year.

It was then 5:00 A.M. in Eretz Yisrael, and the 4 soldiers were waging a heroic battle against boredom and sleep. The minutes crawled by, and right before the first approach of light, they exited the outpost and returned through the minefield and electric fence to the base. After reporting to the officer in charge, the four entered their tent and collapsed on their cots without removing clothing or shoes, because in an hour they would have to join the minyan for the shacharit service.

That night, the protecting heavenly angels of Yossi and his friends were draped in flowing, golden robes while sharing the heavenly Seder with the righteous of all the generations.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Pesach Kasher Vesamai’ach,
Nachman Kahana
Copyright © 5785/2025 Nachman Kahana