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March 26, 2004/Nisan 4 5764, Vol. 56, No. 27
Continue to dream of the messianic age
Torah study
RABBI NEIL GILLMAN
Vayikra/Leviticus 1:1-5:26
Two weeks ago, I officiated at a pidyon ha'ben (redemption of the first-born son). By "officiated" I mean I served, not as a rabbi, but as the kohen (of priestly descent) who redeemed my student's first-born son for five silver dollars. I'm struck by how rarely I am invited to perform this ritual. I speculate that this is part of a larger pattern of overlooking practices that hearken back to Temple times.
For example, I am frequently informed that a congregation does not grant a kohen the first aliyah to the Torah reading: "It's too hierarchical," they say. The duchenen service (the chanting of the priestly blessings by the kohanim on festivals) remains rare.
The avodah service, a re-enactment of the ancient Temple ritual of atonement and an integral part of the Yom Kippur musaf service, is frequently either skimmed or omitted entirely.
Then Reform and Reconstructionist synagogues completely omit the musaf (literally, the "additional") service on Shabbat and festivals. In Conservative prayer books, the prayer for the future restoration of sacrifices is reformulated again to become a historical memory of what we used to do in antiquity.
This Shabbat, we begin our reading of the book of Leviticus. Much of the book deals with the rituals associated with the desert sanctuary, the precursor for the Jerusalem Temple. In that spirit, this week's portion describes various animal sacrifices that were to be offered as our ancestors' worship of God.
Our ambivalence about the sacrificial system has ancient roots. The prophets rail against it because they sensed that in their contemporaries' eyes, it had become empty form, a way of manipulating God.
And in the haftorah that we recite on the Shabbat before Tisha B'Av, the fast-day that commemorates the destruction of the two Temples, Isaiah has God rebuking his contemporaries, "What need have I of all your sacrifices"? Instead, "Aid the wronged; uphold the rights of the orphan; defend the cause of the widow." (Isaiah 1:11, 17)
As a dramatic confirmation of those priorities, God did destroy the Temple - twice. Despite this, Judaism survived. The words of our prayers replaced the sacrifices, and the synagogue served as our Temple. Yet we continue to pray for the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Temple.
Why? Because an integral part of our Judaism is the dream of a messianic age in which all of the flaws of our current era will be repaired. That messianic dream includes a universal dimension; it will be an age of peace and social justice. It also includes a national dimension: the end of our exile, the return to Zion and the rebuilding of the Temple, when we will worship God as our ancestors did.
For centuries then, we have lived in this state of tension. On one hand, we have adjusted to our historical condition; not only have we survived, we have even flourished. On the other hand, we keep dreaming of an ideal age when the flaws of life as we live it now will be repaired.
I can understand why we would like to relegate the Temple and all it stood for to a historical memory; it does seem that the restoration of sacrifices in a rebuilt Jerusalem within historical time offends our modern sensibilities. But that evasion leads to a denial of a central dimension of our classical religious tradition. We need our eschatological dream, because without it, we must accept our current unredeemed world as God's final word.
Why would we want to do that?
Rabbi Neil Gillman is professor of Jewish philosophy at the Jewish Theological Seminary.
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