Vayikra in a time of pandemic – 3/27/20 – Rabbi Joe Black

My Dear Friends,

We’ve been talking and teaching a lot about Sacrifices this week. Last Sunday, I asked us all to think about the sacrifices we are making in order to draw near – l’karev – from the Hebrew root – Korban which we translate as sacrifice.  When we make a sacrifice – of whatever type it might be – we are “drawing near” – to God, to one another, to our essential values.

This week’s parasha, Vayikra, lists many different types of sacrifices: 

• Olah is the burnt offering that is completely consumed by fire on the altar
•   Minchah – or the meal offering – which has a highly perfumed and smoky nature
• Asham and Chatat – are what we loosely translate as Guilt or sin offerings.
• Then there's the Zevach Shelamin – which we sometimes translate as “peace offering” from the root, “shalom” – but it also can mean a “sacrifice of wellbeing.”

As we welcome this shabbat and end this week – I think the concept of a Zevach Shelamin  - a sacrifice of well being is both powerful and essential.

We have sacrificed – and we will continue to sacrifice – not only for our own well being – but for that of everyone around us.  Making a sacrifice of well being by isolating ourselves is contrary to ouressential nature. Most of us feel most well when we are surrounded by others and sharing in their lives. Now – our well being is inexorably linked with staying in isolation.

• We stay in isolation so that, when we emerge, we can be safe. 
• We stay in isolation so that we can help those on the front line of this pandemic stay safe:  Doctors, nurses, health care workers, first responders.
• We stay in isolation in order to protect the most vulnerable among us.
• We stay in isolation even though we know that the very thing that is saving lives is also causing terrible damage to our economy, our mental and spiritual health – as well as the institutions that we hold so dear.

This is a dark time – to be sure. This is a time when many of us are experiencing fear and looking for sources of hope.  There are many reasons for us to be afraid.  We truly don’t know when this time of isolation will end and what will happen when we emerge from the depths. WE see loved ones, friends, and neighbors getting sick all around us. We wonder if we will be next. That is real.

But there is a difference between fear and panic.

Fear is an essential human emotion. It is part and parcel of our survival instinct.

•         Without fear we would take unnecessary risks without considering the consequences.
•         Without fear, we would be reckless

Panic – on the other hand, occurs when we allow our fears overtake us – and, in turn we make decisions that are based on unsound thinking, or a desire to look strong, or a desire to placate our own fears and those of others around us. Panic is the result of our own insecurity and an inability to seek out answers that might be beyond ourselves – but could very well be found in the advice and counsel of others. Panic occurs in the isolation that is forced upon us – not in the self-sacrifice that we elect to enforce on ourselves. Panic occurs when hope is lost.

And so, we search for hope – and sometimes it is hard to find. But know this my friends – we are not lost OR hopeless.  During this ugly and difficult time, we have also found beauty. In our search for new ways to reach out – in prayer, study, laughter and the blessing of this technology that allows us to come together –we have found strength, meaning and purpose. Hope comes from many different places.

A few years ago, at our Selichot services on the Saturday night before Rosh HaShanah,  we invited Rabbi Stephen Bob – an old friend and mentor of mine who had recently completed a commentary on the book of Jonah.  Rabbi Bob recently wrote the following:

For many years I focused my studies on the book of Jonah. I think that Jonah’s prayer from the belly of the big fish may speak to our current situation. In 2:27 Jonah says: “I sank to the base of the mountains. The bars of the earth closed upon me forever. Yet You brought my life up from the pit, O Eternal my God.”

I concluded my chapter on that verse with this paragraph:

Rabbi Arnold Jacob Wolf wrote, “Hope is not extrapolated from events, but always and inevitably imposed upon history. It comes despite, not because of, "reality." It is always a hope against hope.” (Sh'ma 12/231, April 2, 1982) The confidence that our life situation can improve may not grow organically out of our life experience. In our individual lives we need to impose hope rather than wait for our experience to create it. Hope illuminates the path from here to there. Hope is not the light at the end of the tunnel. Hope lights up the interior of the tunnel, making it possible for us to move forward.

My Dear Friends – over the past days and weeks – we have all served as a light for one another. Just as the light of the shabbat candles reminds us of God’s presence – so too the light of community – whether physical or virtual – illuiminates the path in front of us – even when we cannot measure each step we are taking.

May the beauty of shabbat shine in our hearts and our homes and may we all find the well-being for which we pray.

Shabbat Shalom