Scapegoats and Sacrifice
Aharei Mot
Rabbi Joseph Black – Temple Emanuel,
Denver
May 6, 2016
My Dear Friends,
Yesterday, I was at the State Capital to deliver the morning
prayer – as I do every Thursday – when I noticed a group of people in front of the
building who were holding a sign that stated:
“Today is the National Day of Prayer”
Coincidently, yesterday was also Yom HaShoah V’Ha-g’vurah - the day of remembrance of the victims of the Shoah and the bravery of those who
resisted their Nazi oppressors. I was
both surprised and somewhat gratified when I thought, at first, that the juxtaposition
of these two days was deliberate. And then I paid more attention to the people
who were gathered in front of the Capital in celebration of the national “Day
of Prayer.”
The first thing I noticed was a sound that was very
familiar. Someone was blowing a shofar –
and doing an impressive job, I must say.
And then the particpants started marching - passing by me as I was parking my car. I saw people wearing tallitot and kippot. I
saw people wearing Tzitzit. Israeli
Flags were flying. Then I saw a group of
people carrying a mock-up of the Ark of the Covenant – where the 10
commandments were kept – replete with cherubin and angels. They were dancing to what sounded like
Israeli music – dancing the hora, as a matter of fact – but the words were in
English. Then I looked even closer. Mixed in with the kippot, Shofarot, the Ark
of the Covenant were a smattering of crosses and “Jesus Loves Me” t-shirts. I felt like I was in a parallel Universe. What was going on here? Later on in the day, after searching the
internet (thank you Rabbi Google), I discovered that I had stumbled upon what
was being labelled a “Jericho March” by the fundamentalist Christian conveners
of the Denver commemoration of the National Day of Prayer. Like Joshua in the Bible, participants were
marching 7 times around the State Capital.
If we were we to take the Joshua/Jericho theme to its logical
conclusion, I guess that the goal of the march was to have the walls of the
State Capital “Come tumbling down…” I’m
sure that would have upset the legislators inside –especially after we spent
all of that money re-guilding the Capital’s dome…. But, thankfully, no one was
harmed in the shofar-blowing and faux-hora dancing.
It’s a pretty fair assumption that the people wearing
Tallit, kippah, tzitzit and dancing with the mock-up of the Ark of the Covenant
probably had a different take on the meaning of those symbols than I did…..
While they may have appropriated Jewish symbols and ritual
items –possibly even buying them from our own gift shop – they had no
conception of what they meant to authentic Jews – and probably didn’t care
either.
I didn’t engage them.
They were gone before I was able to get out of my car, so I wasn’t able
to ask anyone about what they were doing.
Even if I would have been able, I wasn’t sure what to ask: “Excuse me – why are you appropriating my
sacred symbols?” didn’t seem like a very polite thing to do early on a Thursday
morning. Besides, there were a lot of
them and just one of me …. More on that later.
The act of appropriating and instilling a personal agenda
into ancient texts and rituals actually brings us to this week’s parasha, Aharei Mot.
The basic idea of the
text is that Aaron, the High Priest, is commanded to choose two goats and, by
drawing lots, mark one goat for sacrifice, and the other to be set free to roam
in an area called “Azazeyl.”
The first goat is set aside to be sacrificed in order to
purge the Israelites of their sins. The
second goat becomes symbolic repository of the sins of the people. When it is sent into the wilderness of Azazeyl, the
people see their sins literally walking away.
It actually is a highly efficient process. The community is rid of its sins through two
public and highly symbolic acts – one of sacrifice, the other of communal
banishment.
In many ways, these two goats and the way in which they are
dispatched serve a powerful purpose in unifying the community. Yom Kippur, as described in the torah, is a
“do-over” day – when acts of sacrifice and contrition level the playing field
between God and the Israelites.
Of course, this concept has evolved over the centuries. The
only remnants of this practiced can be found in the obscure ritual of Kapparot, (or Kappores) that is practiced by a few
ultra-orthodox communities. (See hyperlinks
for more information…)
Today, the term scapegoat has another meaning entirely. As
Jews, we understand all too well the power and ramifications of becoming
identified as the scapegoat for all of society’s ills.
As I said earlier, yesterday was Yom HaShoah –Holocaust Memorial Day. This sacred and somber 24 hours was
established shortly after the creation of the State of Israel. On Yom Ha-Shoah we honor the memory of the 6
million Jews and 5 million others who perished in Hitler’s machinery of death.
Study of the Shoah has taught us that Anti-Semitism was not
unique to Hitler. The architects of the
Final Solution were able to draw upon thousands of years of Jew-Hatred and
scapegoating to convince the masses that mass murder was justifiable. What was
unique about the Shoah, however, was in its lethal combination of hatred and
technology that paved the way for the systematic extermination of a people. Without Auschwitz, Treblinka, Maidanek and
the other death camps; without a seamless system of transportation, without
masterful propaganda and the means to distribute it, an entire generation of
Jews would not have been murdered by the Nazis and their willing partners.
So we need to ask ourselves, as we move beyond Yom
HaShoah: Has the world learned anything
from the Holocaust? It’s hard to tell.
Looking at Europe today we see an alarming rise
in Anti-Semitism – some of it originating in radical Islamic propaganda and
some that has been ignited by blowing on the glowing embers of latent,
centuries-old Jew hatred – disguised all too often as anti-Zionism - that
originated in the early Christian Church. We also see a backlash against Muslims,
immigrants and anyone who does not fit the “classical” Caucasian stereotype in
the countries that make up the EU. We know all too well that when times are
difficult – or when people are TOLD that times are difficult, scapegoating is
rampant.
If we look into our own nation - focusing especially on
the current Presidential primaries, it is now clear that rhetoric of personal
vilification, bullying and fear-mongering has paved the way for a general
election that will be unlike anything most of us have ever seen. Scapegoating has become a powerful tool for
ensuring votes and creating simple solutions to very complicated dilemmas.
In a nation that elevates personal responsibility into a
touchstone for ethical behavior, it is becoming increasingly clear that this concept
does not necessarily mean that we call ourselves
into account for our actions – but rather, all too often we look for others to
blame: whether they be members of the
opposite political party, or immigrants, Hispanics, Muslims, Transgendered men
and women, or a myriad of other categories that are easily vilified and
targeted for bullying.
As I think about the upcoming election in November, I am
truly afraid. Many pundits and observers
are using the term “revolution” to describe what is taking place in both our
electoral and governance systems. It is
quite clear that, come November, there will be casualties. Some say that civil discourse and compromise
will be the victims. Others posit that the two-party system is on its last
legs. Others say that such radical
change is exactly what we, as a nation need to set ourselves on a pathway to
prosperity.
I truly don’t know where we are headed – but, if we look at
our torah portion we can see that the two options it contains - sacrifice and
scapegoating – are both in play, and neither are attractive or sustainable. We cannot allow civility, compromise and
cooperation to be sacrificed on the altar of personal aggrandizement. At the same time, we need to fight vocally
against attempts to foist the blame for all of society’s problems on the back
of the most vulnerable among us.
I wish I had had the time and the presence of mind to say
something to those fundamentalist Christians who appropriated sacred Jewish
symbols at the State Capital to fit into their own narrative of religious and
political relevance. My failure to do so
remind me of the disconnect between words and deeds. Our job today – in this ever-changing and
ever-consistent world in which we live – is to be vigilant to call out
hypocrisy, scapegoating and demagoguery whenever and wherever we see it.
I for one will not remain silent.
Shabbat Shalom.
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