Leviticus - Cycle One - 0101-0526 - VaYikra

So often we think we are praying, we are hiking up that mountain, we are the reason why we are closer to God. We think it is our light, our love, our wandering.

What we learn in Vayikra is that our wandering is a hierarchy of paths, each with a defined kavanah and boundaries. And each is a transmission from God.

I could say that when we see this it is a gift. The twist is we don’t see it. We reflect it. We are brought to our sight. And so it is with all gifts, all offerings. As it says in Isaiah (56‐7) Even them I will bring to my mountain and make them joyful in my house of prayer. Their burnt offerings and sacrifices shall be acceptable upon Mine altar.

Korban (therefore) refers to our divine sparks being brought to Hashem. We don’t do it alone. We, individually and as a community, are brought to the radiance, pulled to it and to the intention of each path. And we carry with us all the blood, guts and ritual necessary. Every term when I teach writing at the community college I like to make something clear from the get‐go. I write on the board the big world (to keep it secular) and this world. Of course (I explain) a writer writes to say something, to show a piece of the big world. But how do we draw a line from here (this world) to there? How do we approach our truth?

Before the students start speaking I think of people going on roller coasters, cruises, to huge music festivals, Crete, Bali, the coolest film by the best director, to anywhere as long as it holds a promise of connection to something greater. I think of our blood and guts, our eyes ready to catch and offer the faintest sparks as we work to discern a path.

The students mention reading. Writing in journals. Hiking. Dreaming. Some say drugs. By doing nothing. By laughing. By making love. By watching TV. By playing video games. By doing yoga. By meditating. I write it all on the board.

But I think of reciting the Sh’ma, the Amidah, laying face down on the mountain, feeling my forehead on the earth, reading Torah, doing morning prayers in the sun in my room. I think of crying all curled up and speaking to God, of focusing light on someone who is falling, on collecting light into one point, on letting that point shine through my heart and lead the way. When the students are finished I point to the list and say this is what I don’t teach. You do what you need to do. This is how you teach yourself.

At the same time I think…it might seem like it but I am not teaching alone….and you are not doing any of the above alone…we are reflecting a transmission from God in the way we know best this moment, in the way we are most open.

The first two lines in VaYikra are all about transmission. The words that stand out to me are vayikra, yakriv and korban (lines 1:1‐2). If you look at the roots, there’s a logical connection. We can drop the first sound of vayikra and add one to the end to get yakriv. We can then drop the first in yakriv and add one to the end to get korban. There’s a forward rush here, light being conducted through these letters, filaments transmitted in our direction, shooting through. Looking at the meaning, God calls to Moses, speaks to him and then says to speak and say. Throughout Exodus God speaks and then says. Expanded consciousness is brought to one point. Here, calling infers an even greater expansion, one that can easily be confused with distance. Things seem smaller when they are far away. The aleph in vayikra is small. Perhaps this is to remind us that expansion does not necessarily infer distance, not when referring to God. Then, we get the verb yakriv, to bring. So, the transmittal (vayikra) is causing us to bring (yakriv) but also to be brought. We simply need to look at the call of vayikra pushing through the words and reflecting in both directions, squeezing out the darkness. The continuity of the movement is emphasized by the fact that yakriv is between vayikra and korban, acting as a conduit from one to the other.

This leads us to the third word, korban. Here, we have the noun, the coming closer, the thing, the finished act. This feels almost like a Shabbat, a time to solidify the action, hold it, know it. Nothing has stopped though. This is an act of alchemy, the rooting of the visible in the invisible, the ephemeral in the earthly, the eternal process. Transmission here is made solid. There are clearly many ways we can reflect this coming closer. The Gemara says that for an offering to be effective, we need to know it for its own sake, whether it be a peace offering, a sin offering, etc. We also aren’t to mix one portion of an animal offering with another. The attention to detail discerns the boundaries, secures the kavanah and keeps each path clean and open. The actual blood, the organs and the animals themselves keep us aware of our humanity, our need to understand the idea of wandering at its most primal level…so that we don’t get lost (or go crazy) in calls reflecting calls, mirrors reflecting mirrors, light reflecting light. I don’t know what my students think when they walk away from my class. My hope is that they’ll be led to a path that will then be reflected in their art.

For now, may we work to discern intention. May we feel the sparks moving through vayikra, yakriv and korban as they become consolidated and exponentially more powerful. May we feel that power in our hearts and allow it to help others. May we allow ourselves to be open to transmission and to be pulled, brought, led to Hashem. May we offer our sparks with joy and love as we continue up the path towards the one divine radiance.