And He Called: Purpose, Law, and Communal Responsibility in Parashat Vayikra

Nasiyah Isra-Ul
5 days ago
5 min read

Let’s face facts. The book of Leviticus is hard to read. Like, really hard. It’s nearly as challenging as the book of Numbers, if I’m being honest. Since starting rabbinical school, I’ve been faced with the challenge of writing a few d’vrei Torah for each book of Torah this year (if not for every portion). The difficulty level has amped up with Leviticus for sure.

As a child, I HATED reading Leviticus and Numbers in parasha study. I vividly remember complaining about how “it’s all just a bunch of ancient numbers, dates, and laws.” For a lot of people reading this d’var, you probably have had similar feelings. Almost no one quotes Leviticus or Numbers for awe-inspiring drashes on family, community, or hope. I mean, let’s face it; Genesis told us the beginnings of humanity, and Exodus told us of the beginnings of the Jewish people. Leviticus tells…um? *embarrassed emoji*

As I sat there, thinking about the Torah trek that was before me in Leviticus, I wondered, “What is the theme of Leviticus?” I honestly didn’t know how to put it, as it complicatedly covers so many things in its vast chapters. But the more I read, the more I started to gather the pivotal importance of this very complicated, very ancient, very complex book.

Individual Responsibility and Godliness

We read a lot about rules and regulations in Leviticus. On a surface level, this would seem mundane. What new messages could we possibly get from the same ancient rules?

The first thing that stands out to me is the name of the book. Vayikra, meaning, “and He (God) called.” A powerful phrase to start off one of the most complicated books of Torah.

I find the naming, ordering, and themes of the books in Torah deeply spiritual and auspicious. God had called to Moses a number of times before, but the first book where it’s the first thing on everyone’s mind is Leviticus, when God moves from rescuer to partner and Israel moves from rescued to partnered. God calling Moses takes on an entirely new meaning. The expectations change, from basic guidance on morality in Genesis, to the basic rules of engagement in Exodus, to the foundational pieces needed to run a successful nation and religious system in Leviticus. The relationship God has with Moses and the people of Israel shifts from one of assumed, temporary commitment to mutually-agreed-upon, exclusive connection.

Hence, this addition of new laws and legalities was less for God’s gratification than it was about Israel’s success in partnership with God. God is saying, “If you decide to have a relationship with me as a nation, these are the expectations of being this close to holiness.”

For example, some chassidic teachings explain the command against lying, stealing, and property damage detailed in this portion as a direct violation against God and the individual. According to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the reason the Torah says: “If a person . . . commits a betrayal against G‑d, and lies to his fellow,” is because “you have not only lied to your fellow—you have betrayed the ‘Third Partner,’ depriving Him of His ownership of His world as He Himself defines it.” Essentially, if you rob others in this world, you are robbing God, as it’s His divine sovereignty that placed each person in their respective roles and provided them the resources to achieve in those roles. Justice is not simply for the person; how we treat others is a direct reflection of how much we respect God.

In Leviticus, Torah law shifts from do’s and don’t’s to mutually-beneficial terms of engagement and a thoroughly designed legal system where every voice was to be elevated and respected by God and God’s appointed leadership. It was no longer every person for themselves, as it was in the desert. God is essentially saying, “Now the real work begins.”

Communal Responsibility and Safety

Animal sacrifices are introduced in this portion, too. Alongside the communal procedure on sin and guilt. In reading these initial chapters, God’s requests for sacrifices and His consistent emphasis on guilt, sin, and mistakes can be overwhelming. For some, the entire idea of our sacrificial system seems archaic, unnecessary, and a mockery of humanity’s capability to make our own choices. For others, we read this and exclaim, “Thank goodness I don’t have to do that stuff anymore!” I’ve thought the same thing, sometimes. But, honestly, that’s missing the bigger picture.

I am starting to see the sacrificial system as a model for showing us how our actions affect other parts of creation, and how our wrongs can impact our communities if there is no communication, restorative justice, and reconciliation. I don’t think God wanted us to live in perpetual guilt and shame for being imperfect humans capable of making mistakes. I think God wanted us to see that our actions have the power to change lives, positively and negatively, depending on how we honor our partnership with the Divine. Leviticus launches us right into the thick of how we recognize wrongdoing, self-correct, and account for our missteps, because that is the pathway to holiness and healing after generations of oppression and harm. One of the biggest examples of this is when God requests that if a wrong is done, the person provide restitution for the situation, in many cases, even listing a minimum percentage of restitution. Social or restorative justice then becomes a religious obligation, a mitzvah, not a performance.

The word for sacrifice in Hebrew, korban, means to “draw closer” to something or someone—in this case, God. The sacrificial system, by its own intentional meaning, then represents coming closer to God’s realm by acknowledging fault, advocating for balanced justice, and being willing to take responsibility for our own actions (both as individuals and as a community). It was never about blood, animal sacrifices, or guilt; it was about being willing to accept that we are human and we will make mistakes, but it’s only by acknowledging the consequences and impacts of these mistakes that we draw closer to God.

This is why, in exile, prayer takes the place of sacrifices, known since 70 CE as avodah she’balev. It’s also why, even when looking for the coming of Moshiach to usher in a realm of peace and harmony where sin and wrongdoing are no more, there is still expected to be a Third Temple. What that will look like or entail, no one really knows. But it conveys an important point that’s also found in Leviticus: humans will always be humans, and everything we do, even in near-perfection, will be imperfect. Yet, we are responsible for each other as much as ourselves. God doesn’t slight us for being imperfect; He simply accommodates the fact by offering opportunities for us to reconnect with Him and still experience His presence.

Conclusion

I may not have all the answers as to what Leviticus means for modern life, but I’m starting to get an idea. Genesis told us the beginnings of humanity, Exodus told us of the beginnings of the Jewish people, and Leviticus shows us what it looks like to go from brokenness to wholeness. It’s messy, it’s complicated, it’s imperfect, but it’s our story nonetheless. God is not asking to be the dictator of our lives; He is asking to be a part of it. It is our partnership with God, our reception of His holiness and calling to us, that makes us who we are in creation. Trauma doesn’t fade away overnight; it festers and continues to harm under the surface until someone breaks the pattern. In Leviticus, God is showing us a formula for doing just that, breaking that pattern of harm and recognizing our collective and individual responsibilities as humans and as Am Yisrael. If anything, Leviticus stands as a reminder that humanity is sometimes confusing and life sometimes makes no sense, but it’s what we do with it and in it that matters most.