Union with God, a Parable of Marriage

This week we begin the Book of Leviticus, the third book of the Torah. The first portion, Vayikra, by which the book is known in Hebrew, means: “and called.” God calls to Moses to instruct him about how the priests, the Kohanim, will offer sacrifice. Four categories of sacrifice are outlined: the elevation offering, or olah, the feast peace offering, or zevach shelamim, the sin offering, chatat, and the guilt offering, asham. All of these are voluntary offerings; and the sin and guilt offerings are for unintentional sins and guilt.
Since we don’t practice sacrifice any more, much of what we now discuss in the Book of Leviticus is of a metaphoric nature. But though our practice is so different from what our ancestors did, we, ourselves, are not so fundamentally different; and we can find meaning in the intent of these ancient rituals. Toward the beginning of the portion, the Torah says, “When a person among you will bring an offering to God, from the cattle and from the flocks, you shall bring your offering.” It is noteworthy that there is a word that appears four times in this short excerpt. The word, offering, and the word, bring, in the English, do not really supply the meaning of the Hebrew. The Hebrew words yakriv and karban are from the word karov, meaning: near, soon, close. The sentence could be translated, when you draw near to become close, or when you approach God to offer yourselves. And this puts us in touch with our own yearnings to re-experience the union with God that we lost in the Garden of Eden, when we left the animal state and became conscious.
The prophet, Hosea, makes this yearning for union explicit, describing God as the bridegroom and Israel as the bride, in these famous words that observant Jews recite when putting on tefillin: “I will betroth you unto me forever; I will betroth you unto me in righteousness and justice, in kindness and compassion; I will betroth you unto me in faithfulness; and you shall know God (2:21).” In a certain sense, sacrifice can be understood in light of this metaphor of the wedding between us and God. The Tabernacle is an enclosure like the chuppah, where we come to undergo a ceremony of uniting, and then partake in a wedding feast; and most of the sacrifices were indeed eaten, either by the person bringing herself or himself near, or by the priests, the poor, the relatives and friends of the one bringing the offering, or all of the above. In Hebrew, marriage is referred to as Kiddushin: holiness, and the sacrificial service was an awe inspiring and holy ritual uniting not only us and God but life and death. There are more similarities: just as God’s instructions to Moses in this portion spell out the details of sacrifice, the ketuba or marriage contract at a wedding specifies what each person shall contribute to the union. The Priest carried out the sacred rituals of sacrifice just as a modern rabbi provides a context of holiness for a wedding ceremony. And there is a Jewish custom which is observed by the Orthodox: that Bride and Groom confess and then fast before their wedding, which is analogous to the requirement that the person presenting a sacrifice lean his hands on the sacrifice and confess before the sacrifice is presented, and then cooked on the altar. We bring the best of ourselves to a marriage, as we are commanded to bring that which is unblemished, whole, complete, and the choicest parts as an offering. The act of consummation has its counterpart in sacrifice as well. Rabbi Dvorah Weisberg in The Women’s Torah Commentary, quotes Midrash Tanchuma, which says, “God chose to leave the high heavens and descend to the earth to the Tent of Meeting for the love of Israel.” She says, “God chose concealment over openness. This is a sign of Divine modesty, since what is private is seen by God as more precious.” It is the possibility of experiencing sacredness that unites our contemporary worship and ancient sacrifice. We speak to God in the intimacy of our hearts to attempt to feel the awe and bliss of being attached to our Creator. Our approach, offering, and drawing near is a rededication of ourselves to the best that is in us – the holiness that we can call forth in ourselves if we approach with open hearts, and willing minds. Our aim is to become worthy of what Abraham Joshua Heschl called being noticed by God. We can seek to unite what is separate through our own sincerity of worship, right action, and loving thoughts. We can recreate the awe of life and death that our ancestors experienced in sacrifice and that King Solomon described in The Song of Songs: (8:6, 7) “Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death; jealousy is harsh as the grave; its flashes are flashes of fire, a Divine flame. Many waters cannot quench love, nor can rivers drown it…” The need to draw close to God still exists within us: the need to confess, make right, be cleansed, rejoice, apologize, repent, and elevate ourselves. Though our mechanisms may be different: meditation, ritual, synagogue worship, deeds of loving kindness, charity, and love, our intention to seek out contentment, and our need to feel whole are the same. May we approach our worship and service with the attitudes of awe and the intimacy of lovers, as did our ancient ancestors, and may our drawing near make us whole and be a source of great blessing.