Sacrifices vs cancel culture

Ladies and gentlemen: Leviticus. Or, in Hebrew, Vayikra. Perhaps the most boring, or anyway the less exciting, of the five books of the Pentateuch.

There is nothing in Leviticus that compares with the fascinating family dynamics of which Genesis is about. There is nothing, in Leviticus, majestic and inspiring like the story of the Exodus from Egypt or the giving of Ten Commandments. We have instead norms regarding sacrifices, especially animal sacrifices.

And the problem is that we don’t like animal sacrifices. Even those of us who are not vegan nor vegetarian agree on the principle that unnecessary suffering to animals must be avoided. Sensitivity and empathy towards animals is a Jewish principle, a Jewish value, meaning something good. We all want to banish or limit animal suffering. We don’t see the religious value of killing animals and (literally) shedding their blood on the altar, as prescribed by the Book of Leviticus.

Of course, the Rabbis tell us that we don’t do that anymore. Because to perform sacrifices, you need the Temple. The Temple is not there anymore: this is a good thing because the absence of a physical, material Temple emphasises spirituality and compassion. When we all will have learnt to lead a more compassionate life, and we will have built a society upon the values of love and compassion…. that is when the Temple will be rebuilt (not because some crazy bearded guy takes a walk close to a mosque in Jerusalem). So we have to be kind to each other and towards the animals, of course. So that the Temple will be rebuilt, but there won’t be sacrifices anymore. This is what I call “standard Liberal Orthodoxy”.

The “non-Liberal Orthodoxy”, or ultra-Orthodoxy, also preaches that the Temple will be rebuilt with love and compassion. They say that sacrifices MAY resume, but animals won’t suffer. Don’t ask how is it possible that animals willingly accept to be sacrificed. You don’t ask questions in the non-Liberal Orthodox world. We’ll know the answer when the Messiah comes.

Whether you like or dislike the Orthodox approach, liberal or not, one thing is clear: when we talk about animal sacrifices (and a large part of Leviticus is about animal sacrifices), we talk about animal suffering. And when we talk about animal sacrifices we to talk about the Temple. And guess what: we hate both.

But our discomfort with sacrifices has, I believe, another reason, a more profound reason. The topic makes us uncomfortable for something more profound than Israeli politics or animal suffering. I’d like to explore these motivations.

First of all: what sacrifices are about? Ramban explains the matter in its introduction to the Book of Leviticus. In the last chapters of Exodus, the previous book, we read the description of the building of the Mishkan, the portable altar which the Israelites carry in the wilderness.

We have read how the Divine Glory, God Himself, fills the Tabernacle and dwells among the Israelites during the time of their wandering. The Presence of God is a serious thing, and wandering in the desert is a risky situation. Ramban talks of the danger that the Divine Presence may leave so that the Israelites will be left -literally- wandering in the desert without direction. It is a real fear. At this stage, the Israelites are a bunch of former slaves that have escaped to freedom. They are in the process of becoming a people. It’s like a process of maturation; they are like children that are becoming adult. They internalise rules, laws and boundaries. As children, they are sometimes afraid that the parents may leave them if they misbehave.

This is the role of the rules for the sacrifices. Knowing that it is possible to perform sacrifices, to donate something to God to expiate for our transgressions, either voluntary or involuntary. This is a source of emotional and psychological balance.

Sacrifices are a means for repentance. You’ve done something wrong? Well, OK, it happens, But you, meaning your nature, your personality, is not wrong, is not evil. By sacrificing a part of your belonging, by donating it to God, you amend for your mistake. You learn. And you can return to the community.

In the Jewish worldview, you never stop belonging to the community, even if you transgress. There is always a way to amend, and a means to expiate and to set things right. This is the principle: you can amend your mistakes; your mistakes do not define you; you are something more than your transgressions; you can be better. You can change: precisely this principle is unpopular today, or shall we say countercultural.

Transgressions today are dealt with in a different way.

I am thinking of the phenomenon known as “cancel culture”: the idea that a “safe space” can be created simply erasing the presence of the transgressor, or in theological terms, of the sinner.

It’s not surprising that cancel culture was born in the USA. That Country was founded by Puritans, and -although their religious history is much more nuanced- the Puritanical communities were based on the assumption that sinners must be banished permanently from the community. The Puritans were religious people; they knew that their ideal community was a utopia. They also knew that such a utopia was not for this world.

On the other hand, contemporary cancel culture and the idolatry of “safe spaces” is a secular phenomenon. Its supporters, unfortunately, are aiming for the here and now. They believe that this world can become a better place by banishing permanently those who transgress. Those whose souls are tainted by sins such as “patriarchate”, “toxic masculinity”, “colonialism”, and -obviously- “Zionism.”

Don’t get me wrong. I know that every culture needs its own spaces, and everybody has the right to feel safe. Synagogues are the “safe spaces” for us Jews. In synagogues we know we are the majority, we do not have to explain our culture and our rules (unless you are the Rabbi: in such a case explaining these rules is precisely your job).

During these months of the pandemic, we deeply felt our need for physical Jewish safe spaces, of synagogues. Yes, we all need safe spaces.

But our culture, Jewish culture, the foundation for our spaces, acknowledges the right to be wrong and provides a path for spiritual change and for improvement. Such a path is built around the rules for sacrifices, of which we have read one sample today. Verses that teach that there are different levels of guilt, different kinds of sins and other situations, for example in terms of social class.

The sacrifices required to the poor, to the Biblical equivalent of the working class, are always less financial onerous. God knows — the Rabbis teach- that those who did not have the means to study, and to learn, deserve more compassion and empathy, even when they transgress.

This is what is missing in nowadays cancel culture: empathy towards the sinners and the transgressors. Perhaps -of all things- they should learn more about sacrifices in the Bible. And Ramban.

Or perhaps, just learn to listen.

Brighton & Hove Reform Synagogue, 7 Nissan 5781 / 20 March 2021