…The kohen shall cause to [go up in] smoke all [of the animal] on the altar, as a burnt offering, a fire offering, [with] a pleasing aroma to the Lord.
Vayikra 1:19
The above pasuk is more than a little puzzling. It strikes us as a gross anthropomorphism, in which God is reduced to a being who can be manipulated by an appetizing smell.
The phrase “a pleasing aroma to the Lord” first appears in the story of Noah after he has built an altar for God. There we read, “[Noah] took of every clean beast and of every clean fowl and offered burnt offerings on the altar and the Lord smelled the pleasing aroma.” (Bereshit 8: 20-21)
This expression appears frequently throughout the book of Vayikra, giving the impression that it is a concept somehow fundamental to the sacrificial service. But it smells of idol worship, not of a service to the monotheistic God! Can God really be manipulated so easily? Can He be bribed by a nice fragrance? If so, what kind of God is this?
Later commentaries found ways to explain this idea as a concession to the times.
Ovadya Seforno, the great 16th-century Italian commentator, adamantly argues that the need for the Tent of Meeting in the days of Moshe — and therefore the Temple in later days — is a consequence of the sin of the Golden Calf. On the verse “And so shall you make it” (Shemot 25:9), relating to the construction of the Tent of Meeting, Seforno makes the following remarkable statement:
In order that I shall dwell among you to speak with you and to accept the prayers and service of Israel. This is not as it was before the sin of the Golden Calf where it was said (Shemot 20:21): “And in any place where I shall have My name mentioned, I shall come to you and bless you.”
For Seforno, the Tent of Meeting and the Temple became necessary only after the Israelites fell from their high spiritual level with the sin of the Golden Calf. They now needed a physical, tangible place to symbolize God’s greatness. Had that transgression not taken place, God would never have commanded us to build a Tent of Meeting (or a Temple). Physical structure is a compromise necessitated by human religious weakness.[1]
Seforno seems also to be of the opinion that not only the Mishkan, but sacrifices in general, are a response to the sin of the Golden Calf. Because animals were seen as idols, as in the case of the Golden Calf, there was a need to prove that there was nothing divine about them, and that they should under no condition be worshipped. Instead, these would-be idols should themselves be used to serve God. They are not like human beings, whose killing is absolutely forbidden.
Rambam in his Guide for the Perplexed (3:32) makes a similar comment concerning sacrifices:
It is impossible to go suddenly from one extreme to the other; human nature will not allow people to suddenly discontinue everything to which they have been accustomed. Now God sent Moshe to make the Israelites a kingdom of priests and a holy nation … The Israelites were commanded to devote themselves to His service. But the general mode of worship in which the Israelites were brought up (in earlier days) consisted of sacrificing animals in temples containing images, bowing down to these images and burning incense before them. It was in accordance with the wisdom of God, as displayed in the whole creation, that He did not command us to give up and discontinue all these modes of worship; for to obey such a commandment would have been contrary to human nature. For this reason, God allowed these rituals to continue. He transferred to His service that which had formerly served as a worship of created beings … and commanded us to serve Him in the same manner.[2]
Like Seforno, Rambam sees the sacrificial service as a compromise to human weakness. They are not an integral part of Judaism; they are a concession. The ultimate goal is to liberate Judaism from the sacrificial cult and wean the Israelites away from idol worship, as symbolized by these sacrifices. But since this could not be done overnight, God gave the Israelites time to achieve that goal.[3]
Why pray for the restoration of the Temple?
What then is the purpose of all our prayers to rebuild the Temple and to be able to offer sacrifices? Have we not been weaned from idol worship, and consequently, a Temple, and sacrifices?
Rabbi Eliezer Ashkenazi, in his work Ma’asei Hashem provides an intriguing answer to this. Commenting on the fact that the sacrifices are brought as a “re’ah nichoah LaShem” (a pleasant aroma to the Lord), Rabbi Ashkenazi writes:
The phrase “a pleasant aroma to the Lord” does not reflect the absolute quality of the sacrifices; on the contrary, it conveys a possible flaw in their nature. In case the worshippers imagine that they indeed have achieved atonement for their sins by just offering a sacrifice, the Torah tells them that this is far from true. The sacrifice is only “a pleasant aroma,” a foretaste of what is yet to come. If the worshiper does not repent, the Almighty will then say (Yeshayahu 1:11): “Of what use are your many sacrifices to Me?” The concept of aroma is attributed to the Almighty because of its metaphoric connotation. Just as a pleasant aroma coming from afar bears witness to something good in the offing, so every time the Torah uses the phrase “a pleasant aroma” in connection with the sacrifices, [the meaning is that] it should be to the Almighty as a foretaste of the good deeds that the worshiper is planning to perform. It is called a “pleasant aroma” because anything that can be detected by the senses before it actually reaches the person is called a smell, as is written in the Book of Iyov (39:25): “He smells war from afar,” which implies that he sensed the battle even before he actually reached it. Every human being who wants to bring a sacrifice must know that it should be done for the purpose of reconciling with God. Consequently, the sacrifice is to be brought as a foretaste of good deeds that are yet to come.[4]
The Temple as Educational Institution
It is in this light that we should understand the purpose of the Temple. The Temple service is not the ultimate form of worship; it is only the beginning, a foretaste of what is to come. Its purpose is to function, through metaphoric rites, as a medium through which people are stimulated to take their first steps toward an inner transformation. When Jews pray that God grant them the opportunity to bring fire offerings, this does not mean to actually bring animal sacrifices, but to be able to make ever greater spiritual contributions, of which the sacrifices were merely a foretaste.
The Temple was meant to be an educational institution. As such, it offered a person the first step to perfection, but it was not the culmination. It was a departure, not an arrival. That must take place within the person’s heart and can be evident in their deeds only outside the Temple court.
Ultimately, the Temple and its sacrifices are not the goal of Judaism. They are foreign intruders and a compromise to human weakness.
While it is not hard to see why a Temple may be necessary in the future, as a symbol and inspiration until we once again recognize that all of the universe is His Temple, it is hard to believe that there will be a need for sacrifices, now that we have left that world far behind and have outgrown it.
I suspect that the Sages asked us to pray for the renewal of the Temple service, not because we want to again be able to offer sacrifices in the future. Rather, this prayer is a reminder that we still have a long way to go toward becoming more spiritual and dedicated to the service of God, as so beautifully expressed by Rabbi Ashkenazi’s understanding of “re’ah nichoah Lashem” as the foretaste of what is still to come.
For thousands of years, on the date of the destruction of the Temple, we Jews have had the custom of fasting to remind ourselves that the first step to real spirituality and repentance is to renew our desire to create this foretaste.
It is not the culmination of repentance that needs to be achieved but its sincere commencement. This is what the Sages had in mind when they said, in the name of God, “Open for Me a gate of repentance the size of the eye of a needle, and I will open for you large gates through which infinite light will enter”.[5]
According to this, the Temple has no inherent value. It is only a means to something that no physical object can contain. We do not mourn the loss of the Temple but rather the loss of its message, which we no longer seem to grasp.
Whether or not the Temple will be re-built is not our concern, nor is it our dream. It is of little importance. It is just a phase in an ongoing attempt to become better Jews. What we dream of is the day when we will be able to transform ourselves and reconstruct the Temple’s message within our hearts. At that moment, the physical Temple will be superfluous.
Questions to Ponder
- Seforno argues that the commandment to build the Mishkan is a concession to the human need for tangible symbols. According to Rabbi Cardozo this applies to the Temple as well. Do you feel that physical symbols like the Temple hinder spiritual maturity by keeping people attached to tangible expressions of faith? Or do such symbols play a necessary role in guiding believers towards deeper, more abstract spiritual truths?
- Would you be happy to see sacrifices reinstated in a Third Temple, or would you imagine/hope that since ultimately “the Temple is to be an educational institution,” Messianic times would bring a different form of worship? If the latter, what would or should this worship look like?
- Do you agree with Rabbi Cardozo’s contention that the actual Temple is of little importance compared to the inner transformation it is intended to stimulate? Or, do you view as devastating and irreplaceable the loss of the building itself, the physical center for worship, “God’s House,” so to speak?
- Today, when we have no Temple, what might constitute a ritual expressing our repentance and a “foretaste” of the good deeds we plan to perform, thus presenting a sweet aroma to God? In other words, how can we remember this message today? If the physical aspects of religious practice are seen as secondary, what role should communal and public expressions of faith play in religious life? Can a religion focused primarily on internal, individual spirituality maintain a cohesive community and shared identity?
Notes
[1] Rashi is of a similar opinion On the verse: “These are the regulations of the Mishkan Ha-Edut, the Tent of Testimony” (38:21) he writes: “Testimony [refers to the fact] that the Holy One blessed be He forgave them for the Incident of the Golden Calf.”
[2] See the strong objections to this approach by Ramban on Vayikra 1:9 For a discussion on why Rambam seems to contradict himself in Hilchot Melachim 11:1, where he claims that the sacrifices are to be offered again in the messianic times, see my essay “On Silence, Sacrifices and the Golden Calf,” in Between Silence and Speech: Essays on Jewish Thought (Northvale, NJ, and London: Jason Aronson, Inc 1995) pp 4-12.
[3] For a discussion on the various explanations of sacrifices, see: Meshech Chochmah, the commentary of Rabbi Meir Simcha HaKohen of Dvinsk, Introduction to Vayikra See, also, the many writings on this topic by the venerable philosopher and mystic, Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak Kook z.l., as well as Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg’s Haketav Vehakabalah, Vayikra 1:5.
[4] Rabbi Eliezer Ashkenazi, The Works of God, chapter 27.
[5] Shir Hashirim Rabbah 5:3.
