Heart in hand

Over the last several weeks, we have studied the laws of the sacrifices detailed in the Torah, culminating with the dedication of the altar and the installation of the High Priest. But this past week’s parasha (Shemini), using the narrative of the death of Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu as a vehicle, reminds us that the sacrificial cult is accompanied by strict boundaries that are not to be transgressed. And just as the priests must abide by these rules, if we are to be the “Kingdom of Priests” that God desires us to be, we too must recognize the inherent risks inherent in being given access to the Divine, and respect the sanctity of the boundaries in our own lives.

The root of the Hebrew word for sacrifice, korban, can be translated as near or close. Sacrifice, then, is better understood in the biblical context as the way in which we draw near to the Divine. It is an invitation to achieve a sense of intimacy and communion with God. In our modern context, sacrifice is what we offer of ourselves in our attempt to achieve a deeper connection with those people, causes and things about which we are passionate.

Not everyone, however, is so comfortable with intimacy. Drawing near means being seen, possibly exposing our vulnerabilities, revealing our flaws. Maintaining distance, on the other hand, keeps us safe, protects our anonymity, and avoids risk.

Moreover, the fiery passion that may accompany intimacy, if unchecked, can be all-consuming, excluding to others, and costly to the self. When we care passionately about a person or a cause, we may throw ourselves–our emotional energy, our time, our resources–into the relationship. Sometimes we may even go too far in our zeal, forgetting about self-care and about our other priorities, and excluding the voices of others who may share our passions or who may stand in opposition because of their own hierarchy of values.

Relationship requires sacrifice. If we are to achieve true intimacy, we must be ready to give with no expectation of reward, to assume the risk of being hurt or even of hurting another despite our best intentions. We must be prepared to get messy, because the intensity and zeal that can accompany intimacy is not always accompanied by rational behavior.

But sacrifice also requires regulation and control. The failure to curb one’s enthusiasm can lead to disastrous results, harming the parties to the intimacy and those tangentially related. While we may no longer approach God with sacrifices in hand, we must build sanctuaries in our hearts, with altars fed by our purest intentions, upon which we offer our deeds. And as we bring our souls to the altar of intimate connections, may we not lose sight of those around us ready to do the same.

Rabbi Craig Scheff