Why sacrifices. A Yom Kippur sermon
I want to begin by mentioning one subject I am sure everybody is thinking about right now. Chicken soup. Imagine we were in Jerusalem. Yesterday, of course, we had chicken soup before beginning the fast. And that soup had been prepared with -how can I put it- the remnants of a ritual, practised in some traditional corners of the Holy City (and in places like Stamford Hill or Gateshead): the Kapparot. — Kaparos, as they say.
Kapparot works in this way. On the morning before Yom Kippur, the pious person takes a chicken in their right hand, reads a formula and circulates the animal three times over a boy’s head. After that, it is slaughtered (the chicken, not the boy) following the halachic procedure. The meat provides proteins to those who will fast -here you go, chicken soup. While the interiors are left to feed the birds.
Kapparot, like Kippur, means atonement, and the term refers to the chicken themselves. But the animals are not the source of atonement. Rather they serve as a means to bring people to the awareness that they might be deserving of death because of their sins. Therefore the ritual of Kapparot motivates the worshippers to repent and ask God for mercy.
Moreover, having the interiors devoured by birds of prey was one of the ways the Romans used to kill the martyrs of our people. By feeding birds with the interiors of a roaster, over which we have recited a blessing, we remind of our own fragility. We tell ourselves that we too, God forbid, may die as martyrs one day.
Kapparot is publicly opposed by supporters of animal rights. The morning before Yom Kippur, they always hold a demonstration in front of the markets where chickens are sold for the purpose of the ritual. They do it every year. They are Jews. Every Jewish community has its traditions, after all.
Italian Rabbis already opposed the practice of Kapparot in the 18th century because they feared that people may think that the roosters represented atonement.
Kapparot is too similar to a sacrifice, and since the destruction of the Temple, we should refrain from every action that may resemble sacrifices. Indeed sacrifices are a very uncomfortable topic. We Jews don’t make sacrifices. We believe animal sacrifices are a primitive practice and that humanity has evolved. Moreover, we Reform Jews believe that kindness towards animals is a religious duty.
Nonetheless, it ought to be said that Yom Kippur is about sacrifices! Don’t worry, don’t expect me to bring a rooster into this synagogue. Still, we will spend the afternoon today reading the description of the ritual for the Day of Atonement in the Temple of Jerusalem, which involves a particular kind of sacrifice. We may not like the practice, but it has been part of our culture. And reading about sacrifices still is. When we read from the Torah and we encounter those passages of Leviticus about offerings and sacrifices, we read them. We do not skip these paragraphs because they are embarrassing or cruel.
I think it’s worth exploring the reasons for our discomfort. Sacrifices remind us that not everything is under our control. We do not own our possessions. We have what we have, not because we are entitled to it, but because a set of circumstances has worked in our favour. Our brain, our intelligence, and our hard work… all of this have a role in providing us with safety. But there is much we cannot control: the circumstances and the family we are born into, which equally have a role. We do not control everything. We do not own everything. Hence, we got to learn to give away, to sacrifice indeed.
Needless to say, this is countercultural teaching. The capitalist economy we live in is based on the idea of merit, on the assumption that man is always the ultimate maker of his own destiny and that if you make the right choices at the right moment, then you’ll be rewarded with material wealth. Sacrifices remind us that this assumption is not always true, or not completely true. The family we are born into, the culture whose values we absorb.. these are not our merit, nor are they results of our choices.
The sacrifice of Yom Kippur was particular. The Cohen Gadol took two goats and presented them at the door of the Tabernacle. One was offered as a blood sacrifice, and the other was the scapegoat to be sent away into the wilderness. Which was to sacrifice and which was to be sent away was chosen by lot. Something, again, that human beings cannot control.
The sacrifices on Yom Kippur were a reminder of how much it is not under human control: life, death.. the ultimate decision in these matters is not up to us human beings. As per the Arab proverb: Allah il’lami, God knows more. We are not always, 100% completely, in control of ourselves.
And yet, once we have established that life and death are not under our control, there is another problem. What else there is, that we cannot control?. There are many of those circumstances indeed. Choices we believe we have made in freedom, but rather they were the result of pressures we could not resist or wrong information we have received. Once again: the family we were born into, the culture whose values we have internalised, or the education we have received.., the problem is that we can use all these, we can evoke these facts, to escape responsibility.
I once saw a New Yorker cartoon that summarises the problem. In this cartoon, a burglar points the knife to the throat of his victim and says: “I am sorry, it’s not my fault. I had received a terrible education”.
Today it’s Yom Kippur. We consider our relations and our actions. We think about the past year, what we have done,f what we have not done and what we could have done better. During this process of self-examination, this consideration may come to our mind: “not everything is under my control, I cannot control everything, God takes all the important decisions”.
There are cases in which it is true. In some cases, it is not, and we recur to “external circumstances” in order to escape responsibilities, like in that New Yorker cartoon. We can imagine the burglar pleading, “God has made me born in such a terrible family!” And then there is the grey area of mistakes, transgressions, and pain that we have caused and may or may not be our fault, but we have to deal with the consequences nonetheless.
This is the thing about sacrifices. All year round, we read norms and descriptions to remind us that whatever good happens to us in life is not always our merit. And on Yom Kippur, we read norms and descriptions to remind us that whatever bad we may have done can sometimes be not entirely our fault.
We look at the ritual of kapparot with horror. We agree with Rambam. Animal sacrifices fulfil the spiritual needs of an era when humanity was primitive. We know we have evolved. Sacrifices have been replaced by prayers, by the study of Torah, and by maasim tovim, acts of generosity and love. This we know, it is what God requires from us.
Yet, now, more than ever, we should not be ashamed of that part of our faith. We do not censor those parts of Jewish religious literature about sacrifices. Because they remind us how vulnerable we are. We are vulnerable because the decisions about our future in life are not completely up to us. We are vulnerable. On weekdays even if we are well off, we continue to pray for parnassah (financial stability); and even if we are blessed with good health, we continue to pray for refuah (health).. And on Shabbat, even if we live in a community without conflicts (they do exist….), we still continue to pray for shalom peace.
Jewish prayers are a declaration of vulnerability. Today we are well comfortable. A moment later, we may lose what we have. This is what Jewish prayer reminds us. Not to be complacent. Always be grateful. Because we are vulnerable.
On this very day, many years ago, our ancestors used to meet in the Temple in Jerusalem to participate in the religious ceremony which culminated in the sacrifice of one goat and the release of another — completely similar, chosen by lot. This ceremony gave our ancestors that awareness of being vulnerable. On this day of the year, we experience the same feelings; we feel we are, like them, vulnerable.
We know we have -like them- committed many transgressions, We commit, like them, to restore and repair as much as we can. And like them, we pray with the same words. “Eternal Our God, pardon us, forgive us. grant us atonement”.