Our country has been variously described as the land of “golden opportunities”, of “infinite chances”, and the land where success lies within the easy reach of everyone. That is an assertion which, basically, is true. Now while we are not prepared to grant the validity of all the details of the Horatio Alger thesis, that absolutely everyone with just a bit of determination can become a Henry Ford or Rockefeller, yet we must unequivocally disagree with those hardened cynics and chronic cranks she’omdim alenu b’chal dor v’dor, who would have us believe that the doors to success in all fields of endeavor are shun in our faces. No, in America, in Israel, in China, in France, everywhere there are opportunities rife for those who would seize them. They exist in greater or lesser degrees – but they exist.Granted that there are opportunities available for all of us – whether in business, or in our domestic lives, or in our own education, or in matters of the spirit – the question that presents itself to each and every one of us is: what are we going to do about these opportunities? When Opportunity knocks on our door, are we going to get up, open the door and invite him in, or are we going to “sit it out” and allow him to pass onto someone else’s door? The answer to this question can depend on many things – success or failure in business, a happy or an unhappy domestic life, an empty and hollow life or one in which new and sun-bathed vistas open for us.Our Rabbis, commenting on the very first word of this week’s Sidra, paint the picture of two individuals who responded differently to the opportunities offered to them. Each chanced upon, or, so to speak, stumbled upon a Godly message. Each reacted differently. Vayikra el Moshe, “And God called unto Moses”. What sort of call was this vayikra? Our Rabbis say: (see Rashi): Kriah lashon chiba ve’ziruz, lashon she’malachei ha’sharess mishtamshin bo. The word vayikra indicates a call or a calling caused by love and resulting in a…

Today’s Bible Reading has no doubt perplexed a good many of us. The Portion of the Week, and the whole book of Vayikra for that matter, is a series of detailed instructions concerning the various sacrificial offerings performed in the Tabernacle and later in the Temple. Not only do the intricate complexities of the Service itself bewilder us, but we wonder as well about the meaning behind the concept of Sacrifice. It is impossible to explain, within the confines of one lecture or sermon, the motives and rationale of animal sacrifice. Our Talmudic literature is full of learned discussions on this problem, and Maimonides has developed a good deal of his Philosophy of Religion about this question. But especially in our days, when Reform has declared this part of our religion as antiquated, when Reconstructionism has pronounced it uncivilized, and when Conservative Rabbis have apologetically eliminated all mention of Sacrifice from their Prayer Books, especially today, is it important to dwell upon the general idea of Sacrifice. For beyond and above the complicated descriptions of the ritual of slaughter, the sprinkling of the blood, the offering and the other rites, there is the grand religious ideal of Sacrifice as such, what laymen commonly refer to as “self-sacrifice”. Perhaps if we understand the Jewish Meaning of Sacrifice, we will be better able to appreciate the ritual of animal sacrifice as Divinely revealed in the Bible.The first thing to be understood about Sacrifice, is that it means more than merely giving something you have. Let us purge ourselves of the commercial slant of the world. The sign “Selling at a Sacrifice” one sees so often on store-windows is merely a clever business technique designed to stimulate sales later. When one sacrifices, one does not sell – he gives. Even more than that – sacrifice means not only giving what you have, it means giving what you are. What we have was never ours in the first place – La’Shem ha’aretz umelo’ah, “for the …

The Book of Vayikra, or Leviticus, which we begin to read today, and which deals primarily with the sacrificial service in the Temple, has had less “mazal” than the other four books of Torah. It was ridiculed by and rejected by the ancient pagan Rome and Christianity. The so-called “Higher” Bible critics leveled their severest criticism at Vayikra, dubbing the Priestly Code and asserting that it was the last book in order of composition. Reform and semi-reform attacked it with a vengeance similar to those mentioned above.To defend the Bible against all these critics and explain the whole of the Book is too formidable and time-consuming task to do here at this moment. Allow me, however, to restrict myself to only one aspect of the sacrificial order mentioned in this week’s portion. Perhaps if we will understand this one facet, we will convince ourselves that there may be untold treasures of thought and depth and insight in the rest of the Book though we do not understand it yet.The least understandable and most objectionable to the modern mind of the various sacrifices mentioned is the korbon chatass – the sin-offerings and the guilt-offerings. Briefly, when one committed a sin – a chatass – he was obliged to offer up an animal sacrifice, in the Temple, to atone for the transgression.What are some of the objections offered to the korbon chatass? One argument is that by allowing the sinner to atone by sacrifice, we encourage further violations, for the same person will not hesitate to commit any crime or sin, knowing that he can always “whitewash” his transgression by merely offering a korbon. Another criticism is that atonement by sacrifice is unnecessary and primitive. And then, as the most sophisticated of arguments, we are told that in these commandments as well as in a number of others, the Bible encouraged guilt-feelings which we are nowadays, with the knowledge of modern psychiatry, trying to do away with.What can we answer to these serious charges? First, let…

A fundamental question, that has no doubt occurred to many of us here today, is: what is it that makes one person religious and another irreligious? True, there are obvious differences in practice: the religious person observes a special regimen of life, one directed by mitzvot, whether ritual or social or ethical, while the irreligious person does not observe this pattern of life. There are differences in commitments: the religious man has faith and belief in one God, while the irreligious man does not. But is there something beyond the formality of practice and the abstraction of faith, something more crucial to the basic outlook upon life that differentiates the believer from the non-believer.I believe that this is the question the Rabbis proposed to answer in the incisive comments they gave us upon the first words of this morning’s Sidra, a word which also serves as the Hebrew title of the entire Third Book of Moses: Vayikra. In analyzing this one word, the Rabbis found looming before them two great historical figures, each pitted irrevocably against the other, two antonyms as it were. In the word vayikra itself they saw, of course, the figure of Moses. Our verse reads: vayikra el Mosheh – “And He (God called to Moses.” If you eliminate the last letter of the word vayikra, you remain with the Hebrew word vayikar – “and he met, chanced upon, happened upon.” The second word raises the image of the pagan prophet Balaam, for about him it is written later in the Bible, vayikar Elokim el Bilam – “And God was met by Balaam.” So the difference occasioned by this one letter shows the difference of two attitudes to God, one by Moses and one by Balaam. Moses hears the “call” of God; Balaam just happens to meet Him casually.Our Rabbis sharpened this difference and explained it thus. Concerning the “call” to Moses, they referred to vayikra as leshon chibah, leshon zeruz, lashon she’malakhei ha-sharet mishtamshin bah – the language of love, of inspiration or activization, th…

One of the offenses for which the Torah, in this morning’s Sidra, declares the korban or sin-offering obligatory is that of shevuat ha-edut, that is, one who is under oath to testify and fails to do so. If a man ed o raah o yada, if he witnessed some significant matter, either seeing or knowing of some facts important to some other individual who asks him to testify, then im lo yagid, if he withholds his testimony and refuses, ve’nasa avono, he shall bear the burden of sin. To those many amongst us whose reaction, upon witnessing an accident, is to escape the scene quickly so as not to be bothered by innumerable court appearances, the Torah addresses its reminder that offering up truthful testimony on behalf of another person is not only a legal obligation, but also a religious and ethical one. There are three types, the Talmud tells us (Pesahim 113b), whom God despises; and one of them is: ha-yodeia edut la-havero ve’eino me’id lo, he who withholds testimony needed by another. The truth is destroyed not only by outright falsehood, but also by failing to report the true facts. In a larger sense, the sin of im lo yagid refers not only to a trial currently in session in some beth din or court-room, but to keeping your peace and remaining silent in the face of obvious injustice. To withhold edut or testimony means to suppress your righteous indignation when by all standards of decency it should be expressed and expressed vigorously. For even if there is no human court willing to hear the facts and correct an unjust situation, there is a Heavenly Judge before whom we are required to testify. He, therefore, who suppresses the truth and chooses silence in the presence of evil, shows his contempt for God, Who is “the King Who loves righteousness and justice.” To a generation which lived through the Hitler era, and saw millions of Germans remain submissively silent while six million Jews were butchered, we need not stress the teaching of today’s Sidra that im lo yagid, if …

The Jewish year has two peaks or high points, one coming in the Fall with the months of Elul and Tishri, and the other in the Spring with the month of Nisan, which begins today. The Fall peak includes Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Succot, and the month of Elul preceding them. The Spring peak consists primarily of Passover and the preparations for it by means of the four special portions, the arba parshiyot, and especially the month of Nisan. Both of these high points are considered of the utmost importance; both are regarded by the Talmud as two kinds of “New Year.” Tishri is considered the Rosh Hashanah or New Year for shanim, in the sense that the year chronologically begins at that time, and Nisan is, as we read on this special Parshat Ha-Chodesh the rosh hadashim, the first of the months insofar as reckoning the holidays of the year. Each of these represents a complex of moods, associations, and attitudes that are deeply ingrained in the Jewish experience and the Jewish soul.What is the essential difference between them? One of the finest analyses was presented by Rabbi Yosef Yitzhak, the Rabbi of Lubavitch, who died 14 years ago, in a work called “Kuntres Hai Elul.” I beg your leave to present to you the gist of his ideas, together with some additions, elaborations, and modifications of my own.The story of man is essentially the story of his encounter with God, the confrontation of creature with Creator in the great dialogue between them. This dialogue does not necessarily consist of words that are exchanged; there are also deeds, feelings, and orientations that pass between the two in a state of mutuality.The Zohar regards this dialogue between God and man as similar, in many respects, to a human conversation: one side initiates it, and the other responds. The Zohar uses two terms, depending upon who initiates the dialogue. When it is opened by God, then it is called itra’uta di-le’ela – the impulse or initiative from above. When man begins this dialogue, it is …

Judaism counsels moderation, and rejects extremism. This teaching of moderation in character is raised by Maimonides to a fundamental of the Halakhah, and is elaborately described by him in the first part of his immortal Code of Jewish Law, the Mishnah Torah. Furthermore, this “Golden Mean'' of abjuring the extremes and choosing the middle of the road in conduct, is identified by Maimonides as nothing less than the ‘דרך ה, “the way of the Lord.” This is what the Torah means, according to Maimonides, when before the destruction of Sodom the Lord says: כי ידעתיו למען אשר יצוה את־בניו ואת־ביתו אחריו ושמרו דרך ה׳ לעשות צדקה ומשפט – I shall tell Abraham what I am doing, “for I know him that he will command his children and his household after him that they shall observe the ‘דרך ה, the way of the Lord, to do righteousness and justice.” While Sodom veered to the extremes, Abraham walked in the “way of the Lord,” doing justice and righteousness, following the Golden Mean. This is what is meant by the “heritage of Abraham,” the priceless possession of our people. According to this “way of the Lord,” a man should develop the kind of character that is distinguished neither by anger and temperamental tantrums nor apathy and indifference; he should be neither spendthrift who squanders every dollar, nor a miser who cannot bring himself to spend a cent; he must be neither giddy nor gloomy, neither in a state of manic joy nor in a state of somber depression. One must always try to keep his mood and his quality of conduct moderate, stable and thoughtful. Of course, there are exceptions, and Maimonides describes them in detail. But the general principle remains; keep away from all extremes in conduct.This fundamental of Jewish ethics was discovered by a renowned Rabbi in, of all places, today’s Sidra on the laws of the sacrifices. Rabbi Joseph Saul Nathanson, the eminent halakhic decisor who was Rabbi of Lvov, thus interprets symbolically the commandment concerning the מנחה, the me…

The key verse in our Sidra, which introduces the entire subject of sacrifices, reads: adam ki yakriv mi-kem korbon la-Shem, “When any man of you bringeth an offering unto the Lord.” The Zohar, intrigued by the use of the term adam, declares that by this word, man, the Torah means neither adam kadmaah nor adam betraah: neither the first man nor the last man. The Torah is concerned with the faith, the devotion, and the love of all mankind in between adam kadmaah and adam betraah, man at the very beginning and at the very end of time. What the Zohar tells us is that for the first man and the last man devotion to the Almighty is not an extraordinary achievement. The first man, Adam, lived in Paradise, he had every indication of God’s bounty, and his communication with the Lord was clear and direct. Certainly, it required no great moral effort for him to believe in and worship God. Man at the end of time, the adam batra’ah, is one who will have experienced geulah shelemah, the complete redemption, and who will have enjoyed giluy shekhinah, the Divine revelation at the termination of history. For him, too, faith will not be an act of moral heroism, for he will have seen the hand of God acting in history. For these individuals, paradoxically, korbon is not a sacrifice, loyalty to the Creator is not a particularly noteworthy mitzvah. But it is for the man in the middle of the course of history, for the adam who flourishes neither at the beginning nor at the end of time, for whom korbon is a sublime accomplishment. For man in the middle of the course of history, for whom certainties are elusive, for whom faith is so difficult, who dwells neither in paradise nor in a state of redemption – for him korbon and emunah are an unexampled and unparalleled triumph of the human spirit. (See “Ateret Mordekhai” by Rabbi M. Rogov).The real mitzvah is accomplished when the korbon la-Shem is offered by man who finds himself in the middle of time and history, his horizons beclouded by unce…

The fashionable idiomatic exhortation, “do your own thing,” is one of the most formidable slogans of our day. It defines the New Left in politics, the New Morality in conduct, and the New Generation in everything from art to drugs and theatre to hygiene. This inelegant expression is new, one of the many products of the contemporary semantic experimentation and inventiveness. But as so often happens with neologisms, new words or terms represent ideas that are really quite old and well known.What it means is that every man must seek to satisfy his own self and not some other. The greatest virtue is to express yourself rather than to submit to the will of another. Values should be autonomous, self-generated, self-satisfying; not heteronomous, obedient to some other person or group that lays down values for you. This orientation, therefore, rejects any way of life in which the individual is not the center of all his concerns. Hence, all the old standards and criteria, whether in conduct or morality or art or politics, are now brought into question and usually rejected in favor of “doing your own thing.” Naturally, religion with its insistence upon God’s authority as Creator, is considered passe; unless, of course, “doing the religion thing” satisfies one’s personal whim or inclination, in which case religion turns into a form of idiosyncratic psychopathology.As Jews, can we see anything positive in this new attitude? The answer, I believe, is: Yes. There is in it an emphasis that we must relearn for our times. Since the days of Karl Marx, who complained about the “reification” or reduction of man into a “thing,” into an object for exploitation rather than a subject possessed of individual dignity and integrity, modern thinkers have been aware of the dangers to the individuality and personality of men. Our society tends to de-personalize human beings. To the extent, therefore, that this new approach seeks to preserve individuality and enhance the uniqueness of each huma…

Not every act of popular lunacy is worthy of comment from the pulpit. Nevertheless, the current fad of “streaking,” or running undraped in public, is reflective of a more pervasive tendency in society today, and hence merits some analysis from a Jewish perspective. I should like to refer to our discussion a rather unlikely source. On the first verse in today’s portion, Rashi quotes the Sages: ויקרא אל משה ויקרא לשון חיבה, לשון זירוז, לשון שמלאכי השרת משתמשים בו. The word “and He called” denotes affection and industriousness, and the kind of language used by the ministering angels. Apparently, the Rabbis’ curiosity was aroused by the use, in this context, of ויקרא, “and He called” instead of ויאמר ,וידבר, “He spoke” or “He said.” They therefore related the word “call” to the verse in Isaiah who, in his vision of the Seraphic Song, describes the angels and says: וקרא זה אל זה ואמר קדוש קדוש קדוש…ש “And they called one to another, saying: holy, holy, holy…” Now, that angelic “call,” according to our liturgy, is of a very special kind. Thus we introduce this passage from Isaiah in our daily prayers by saying כולם אהובים כולם ברורים כולם גבורים וכולם פותחים את פיהם בקדושה ובטהרה…ש they are beloved (thus implying חיבה or love, affection); they are all clear, they are all powerful (thus implying זירוז or responsiveness, industriousness); and they all open their mouths in sanctity and purity (thus the special language of מלאכי השרת, the ministering angels).Hence, the divine call to man is a summons to react as do the angels in Isaiah’s vision – with love, with zeal, with holiness. This is, obliquely, a rather full-fledged Jewish program for human conduct!With this in mind, let me turn to the first of three points I wish to make about nudism not only as a prank but as a principle.This inclination towards progressively more nakedness is an outgrowth of the permissiveness usually associated with what is or has been called the New Morality. A number of social philosophers and …