Will there be Animal Sacrifices in the Third Temple?

This is a question my third grader often asks me - I am happy to share Shlomo Brody's response in the Jpost.
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Ask The Rabbi: Making a Sacrifice 
Shlomo Brody - Published 16/7/2013

Q:  Can we pray for the rebuilding of the Temple without wanting the restoration of animal sacrifices? Does God really expect us to slaughter animals in the Temple? - H.W., Houston 

A:  When I was an active member of Harvard Hillel, I always found it interesting to compare the various prayer books of the groups that prayed in the same building. Flipping through them, one could see that the answer to your question might depend on what siddur you use, as the denominations sharply disagree over the potential abrogation of animal sacrifices in the messianic era. In the 19th century, Reform siddurim excised all references to the Temple and sacrifices, deeming them primitive and uncouth for their progressive temples (modern synagogues). Recent Conservative siddurim have also omitted prayers to restore sacrifices, although many allude to them (in the past tense) within prayers for the rebuilding of the Temple. Orthodox Jews, on the other hand, continue to pray in numerous contexts for the complete restoration of the Temple service. This debate relates to a larger question regarding the abrogation of biblical mitzvot in the messianic era. In his 13 Principles of Faith, Maimonides (12th century, Spain/Egypt) interpreted the Torah's prohibition of adding or subtracting commandments (Deuteronomy 4:2) to mean that following Sinai, even a prophet cannot nullify or add to the 613 commandments. In the messianic era, he asserts, Jews will reinstate all dormant mitzvot, including Temple sacrifices (Hilchot Melachim 11:1-3). Maimonides seemingly bases this dogma on a rabbinic assertion that prophets cannot institute new commandments (Sifra Behukotai 8:7) Nonetheless, as Prof. Marc Shapiro has shown, a few scholars challenged this dogma. Maimonides' most important detractors was the esteemed medieval philosopher R. Yosef Albo (Spain, d. 1444). Albo asserted that the Bible merely prohibits adding or subtracting to the details of the commandments, fearing that the changes will stem from foreign influences (Sefer Ha'ikarim 3:14). More fundamentally, he contended that God always retains the power to change the mitzvot, and that a bona fide prophet in the messianic era might one day receive such a declaration (3:19). He further suggested that this is particularly logical with regard to prohibitions, such as the proscription of consuming certain animal fats, whose historical logic has expired (3:16). This notion, shared by R. Ya'acov Emden (18th century, Germany), echoes earlier rabbinic texts that speak of the nullification of commandments in the messianic era (Nidda 61b, Midrash Tehillim 146). Interestingly, in Guide for the Perplexed, Maimonides stated that God only permitted animal sacrifices because the Israelites could not easily abandon the idolatrous religious culture of Egypt (3:32). Rather than banning them, God regulated the sacrifices, ordaining that they be directed exclusively toward Him and performed under specific circumstances. Comparing them to breast milk that a baby needs before eating on her own, Maimonides implies that the Jewish people will ultimately be weaned from sacrifices toward a different form of worship. This position seems to contradict the above-cited Maimonidean vision of an unchanged Halacha in the messianic era, and scholars have spilled much ink trying to resolve this tension. Moreover, Maimonides was severely criticized by the prominent legalist and exegete Nahmanides (13th century, Spain), who contended that animal sacrifices contain integral value, as seen from the fact that Abel, Noah and Abraham offered sacrifices long before the Israelites descended to Egypt (Leviticus 1:9). Nahmanides further asserted that sacrifices have integral meaning and mystical significance, a position shared by many classic rabbinic figures. Zionism renewed interest in this topic, even as the issue remained entirely theoretical. Though the majority of Orthodox rabbis continue to believe in the restoration of sacrifices in a rebuilt Temple, two prominent religious Zionist rabbis, R. Abraham I. Kook (d. 1935) and R. Haim D. Halevi (d.1998), both asserted that at some point in the messianic era, Jews will only offer sacrifices from grains, but not from animals. This position resonates with a rabbinic dictum that with the exception of the thanksgiving offering, sacrifices will be nullified in the messianic era (Leviticus Rabba 9:7), although this passage has been differently interpreted by others. One less prominent yet fascinating American rabbi, R. Haim Hirschensohn (d. 1935), went further, contending that modern religious Jews will not be able to adapt to the sacrificial culture and that therefore a future Temple will not restore sacrifices. Interestingly, R. Kook himself ostracized R. Hirschensohn, claiming that he was overly influenced by Western thought, and that it was preferable to believe that the complete sacrificial order will be restored (Igrot Hare'iya 4:994). In a separate essay promoting vegetarianism, R. Kook further challenged modern critics of sacrifices for hypocritically failing to abstain from slaughtering animals for their mundane dietary needs. This intricate array of factors makes this a fascinating topic in Judaism's vision for the future of religious worship. 

The writer, editor of TraditionOnline.org, teaches at Yeshivat Hakotel and is pursuing a doctorate in Jewish philosophy in Hebrew University.  JPostRabbi@yahoo.com

Nusach and a Philosophy of Prayer

I'd like to share a fascinating blog titled Nusach Freak - which shares perspectives and experiences on davening.

The following post is from December 2008 and shares what I think is a profound statement about the underlying motivation to public prayer.  My personal notions regarding nusach have evolved and I think that all educators must consider what they are teaching towards when it comes to tefilla.
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Venice, Italy and Nusach Carelbach --

So two weeks ago I ended up in Venice, Italy for Shabbat (long story and largely irrelevant to the Nusach blog). Naturally, I avoided davening with the Chabadnikim given the chance to daven with the Italians. The Italian minyan actually followed a hybrid nusach of 90% Spanish & Portuguese and 10% Minhag Roma...and it was gorgeous.

Now here's what I don't get. Go into any random Ashkenazi modern Orthodox shul where there is no chazzan and you will get baal habatim doing the davening/leining. Invariably, one of the following things happens:

1. The chazzan will not only be unable to carry a tune but will have no idea of what he's reading evidenced by the rediculously bad phrasing and dikduk.

2. The nusach will be butchered or at a minimum, the chazzan will lose the nusach for a few worlds here or there (for instance, when switching to shabbat nusach at the end of kedusha of mincha)

3. The baal koreh will get most of the pasha right but a few taamim will be missed and the occasional mistake will be made resulting in the entire shul screaming out the correct pronunciation  It's one reason why many people go to shul...(Hey Yanki, want to go to shul with Tatty to play heckle and correct the baal koreh?)

In contrast, between Kabbalat Shabbat, Arvit, Zemirot (Pesukei d'Zimra), Shacharit, Kriat Hatorah, Musaf and Mincha not a single mistake was made. There is no formal chazzan in the shul ---Friday night an Israeli (temani) transplant to Venice was the Shat"z and there was literally not a note different than what is done on a Friday night at Shearith Israel in New York. More surprisingly, Shacharit was led by a kid who looked no older than 22 or 23, did not exactly look yeshivesh (more Italian, fresh out of an espresso bar in Milano look), a typical Venetian local yokal, and his chazzaning was perfect --- everything was said out loud and his dikduk, nusach and transitions between the nusachy and singy bits were 100% perfect.

This is not the first time I have been overwhelmed by how important attention to detail is in sephardi batei knesset. Why is it that Ashkenazi tephilot don't come out the same way? Is it somethig in how the kids are educated?

This past shabbat, back in Israel, the shatz in my local shul used Carlebach. Being tired after a long (boring) work week and an even longer Friday getting ready for Shabbat, I had little patience for awkward Kabbalat Shabbat dancing (c'mon, you know what I'm talkign about) and 25 minutes of ny ny ny ny ny....Luckily, my 2-year old, who had spent all of Kabbalat Shabbat next to me happily munching on a candy had had enough and after Lechad Dodi insisted we go home. I was happy to oblige. On the way home it dawned on me why Sephardi (and paticularly Western Sephardi) and Yekke batei knesset have such a different character than the run of the mill Ashkenazi batei knesset and especially those that allow nusach Carlebach now and again:

It's all about philosophy of prayer --- and how we view our tephillot (avodah shebalev) as a replacement for the avodah in the mikdash.

If we are focused on creating a tekes or formal ceremony to take the place of a very formalized (and I imagine a largely unemotional avoda that was conducted in the mikdash) we will try to develop a tephilla that is focused on perfection --- nothing can be off. Everything like the ancient avoda istelf must be done in a formalized manner with pomp and circumstance (l'chavod u'litipharet?) . Of course, as part of this formalized process, we need to speak out to God.

The idea of ny ny nying and dancing in shul seems very out of place according to this philosophy.

On the other hand if we are to focus on reaching out to God via a spiritual experience (focusing on the shebalev part of avodah shebalev) than we don't have to worry about little mistakes in our nusach or for that matter, our didkduk --- the important thing is too get the vibe going....Clearly, chassidut has a strong influence on the latter school of thought.

There is no right or wrong here...just different approaches. Personally, I grew up in that more formal environment and therefore, I find the ny ny nying and dancing in shul thing very foreign and even more so because it is often accompanied by poor nusach/dikduk. However, I do love beautiful singing (both Ashkenazi and Sephardi) ...and I am quick to get a spiritual high from nicely sung davening (with multi part harmony of course) and this helps me to focus my tephillot to the Almighty.

Enough shtuyot...back to work.
Shabbat Shalom

Nusach Man

Guest Post: Chief Rabbi Sacks - Encountering God

Encountering God - Yayetze
24 November 2012 - 10 Kislev 5773

It is one of the great visions of the Torah. Jacob, alone at night, fleeing from the wrath of Esau, lies down to rest, and sees not a nightmare of fear but an epiphany:

He came to a certain place [vayifga bamakom] and stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep. He had a dream. He saw a ladder resting on the earth, with its top reaching heaven. G-d’s angels were going up and down on it. There above it stood G-d . . .
Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, “G-d is truly in this place, but I did not know it.” He was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of G-d; this is the gate of heaven.” (28:11-17)

On the basis of this passage the sages said that “Jacob instituted the evening prayer.” The inference is based on the word vayifga which can mean not only, “he came to, encountered, happened upon” but also “he prayed, entreated, pleaded” as in Jeremiah 7: 16, “Neither lift up cry nor prayer for them nor make intercession to Me [ve-al tifga bi].”

The sages also understood the word bamakom, “the place” to mean “G-d” (the “place” of the universe). Thus Jacob completed the cycle of daily prayers. Abraham instituted shacharit, the morning prayer, Isaac minchah, the afternoon prayer, and Jacob arvit, the prayer of nighttimes.

This is a striking idea. Though each of the weekday prayers is identical in wording, each bears the character of one of the patriarchs. Abraham represents morning. He is the initiator, the one who introduced a new religious consciousness to the world. With him a day begins. Isaac represents afternoon. There is nothing new about Isaac – no major transition from darkness to light or light to darkness. Many of the incidents in Isaac’s life recapitulate those of his father. Famine forces him, as it did Abraham, to go to the land of the Philistines. He re-digs his father’s wells. Isaac’s is the quiet heroism of continuity. He is a link in the chain of the covenant. He joins one generation to the next. He introduces nothing new into the life of faith, but his life has its own nobility. Isaac is steadfastness, loyalty, the determination to continue. Jacob represents night. He is the man of fear and flight, the man who wrestles with G-d, with others and with himself. Jacob is one who knows the darkness of this world.

There is, however, a difficulty with the idea that Jacob introduced the evening prayer. In a famous episode in the Talmud, Rabbi Joshua takes the view that, unlike shacharit or minchah, the evening prayer is not obligatory (though, as the commentators note, it has become obligatory through the acceptance of generations of Jews). Why, if it was instituted by Jacob, was it not held to carry the same obligation as the prayers of Abraham and Isaac? Tradition offers three answers.

The first is that the view that arvit is non-obligatory according to those who hold that our daily prayers are based, not on the patriarchs but on the sacrifices that were offered in the Temple. There was a morning and afternoon offering but no evening sacrifice. The two views differ precisely on this, that for those who trace prayer to sacrifice, the evening prayer is voluntary, whereas for those who base it on the patriarchs, it is obligatory.

The second is that there is a law that those on a journey (and for three days thereafter) are exempt from prayer. In the days when journeys were hazardous – when travellers were in constant fear of attack by raiders – it was impossible to concentrate. Prayer requires concentration (kavanah). Therefore Jacob was exempt from prayer, and offered up his entreaty not as an obligation but as a voluntary act – and so it remained.

The third is that there is a tradition that, as Jacob was travelling, “the sun set suddenly” – not at its normal time. Jacob had intended to say the afternoon prayer, but found, to his surprise, that night had fallen. Arvit did not become an obligation, since Jacob had not meant to say an evening prayer at all.

There is, however, a more profound explanation. A different linguistic construction is used for each of the three occasions that the sages saw as the basis of prayer. Abraham “rose early in the morning to the place where he had stood before G-d” (19:27). Isaac “went out to meditate [lasuach] in the field towards evening” (24:63). Jacob “met, encountered, came across” G-d [vayifga bamakom]. These are different kinds of religious experience.

Abraham initiated the quest for G-d. He was a creative religious personality – the father of all those who set out on a journey of the spirit to an unknown destination, armed only with the trust that those who seek, find. Abraham sought G-d before G-d sought him.

Isaac’s prayer is described as a sichah, literally, a conversation or dialogue. There are two parties to a dialogue – one who speaks and one who listens, and having listened, responds. Isaac represents the religious experience as conversation between the word of G-d and the word of mankind.

Jacob’s prayer is very different. He does not initiate it. His thoughts are elsewhere – on Esau from whom he is escaping, and on Laban to whom he is travelling. Into this troubled mind comes a vision of G-d and the angels and a stairway connecting earth and heaven. He has done nothing to prepare for it. It is unexpected. Jacob literally “encounters” G-d as we can sometimes encounter a familiar face among a crowd of strangers. This is a meeting brought about by G-d, not man. That is why Jacob’s prayer could not be made the basis of a regular obligation. None of us knows when the presence of G-d will suddenly intrude into our lives.

There is an element of the religious life that is beyond conscious control. It comes out of nowhere, when we are least expecting it. If Abraham represents our journey towards G-d, and Isaac our dialogue with G-d, Jacob signifies G-d’s encounter with us – unplanned, unscheduled, unexpected; the vision, the voice, the call we can never know in advance but which leaves us transformed. As for Jacob so for us, it feels as if we are waking from a sleep and realising as if for the first time that “G-d was in this place and I did not know it.” The place has not changed, but we have. Such an experience can never be made the subject of an obligation. It is not something we do. It is something that happens to us. Vayfiga bamakom means that, thinking of other things, we find that we have walked into the presence of G-d.

Such experiences take place, literally or metaphorically, at night. They happen when we are alone, afraid, vulnerable, close to despair. It is then that, when we least expect it, we can find our lives flooded by the radiance of the divine. Suddenly, with a certainty that is unmistakable, we know that we are not alone, that G-d is there and has been all along but that we were too preoccupied by our own concerns to notice Him. That is how Jacob found G-d – not by his own efforts, like Abraham; not through continuous dialogue, like Isaac; but in the midst of fear and isolation. Jacob, in flight, trips and falls – and finds he has fallen into the waiting arms of G-d. No one who has had this experience, ever forgets it. “Now I know that You were with me all the time but I was looking elsewhere.”

That was Jacob’s prayer. There are times when we speak and times when we are spoken to. Prayer is not always predictable, a matter of fixed times and daily obligation. It is also an openness, a vulnerability. G-d can take us by surprise, waking us from our sleep, catching us as we fall.

Shabbat Shalom,

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This article was published with permission of the Office of the Chief Rabbi.

Prayers & Sacrifices

In light of yesterday's post about prayer and the Temple worship, I wanted to share the Lubavitcher Rebbe speaking (in 1984 and in yiddish) about selfless prayer and the lessons we can learn from biblical sacrifices. Follow this link to watch and listen to the Rebbe's perspective (or at least six minutes of his perspective).

Temple Minded

Believe it or not, a great many of Jewish rituals were designed to transmit the rules and habits of the Beit HaMikdash, the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, to those that never lived to see its glory.  For example, the custom of washing hands before eating bread (or even wet fruit) was established to recall the behavior of the priests in the times of the Temple.  When you preform this act do you think of the Beit HaMikdash?

During an impromptu discussion with a colleague today about the intensified mourning during the 9 days of Av, I asked this same question. He replied, "No, do you think most people when they say, 'Baruch Atah Hashem...' they often think of Hashem?"  

This cynical response - and perhaps accurate - reminds us that to teach davening is to teach sensitivity and awareness to time, space, and people.  In my early Jewish education, I often heard the word "holy" bounced around but never really understood what the word meant.  One good translation is to define it in terms of being separate, apart.  I think it is appropriate to translate the word kedusha as intimacy, a sense of unique closeness that is somewhat private and distinct to specific time, places, and people.  When teaching (or preaching) the importance of tefilla one must be conscious of the many layers of educational, ideological, and historical that are packed into each individual act - and many are actually routed in the service from the Temple.

Extra (Musaf) Prayers

The Musaf prayer for the Chagim is a very explicit tefilla.  Perhaps it is because my understanding of the Hebrew is adequate, I find the language of this prayer to be very powerful, acknowledging the special moment that is a Jewish holiday.   "Because of our sins, we have been exiled from our lands...." I think this verse draws a direct link to the purpose of our tefillot in reality lacking a temple to bring a sacrifice.  The tefilla's drawing out of the context allows for a reenactment of the temple service of that Biblical holiday and not only mentions the wish to return to a higher/closer level of worship with language, but evokes the people and spirit of the day. 

Usually I am not into extra prayers; I am of the philosophy that less is indeed more.  There is even an element to the Shabbat Musaf that is routine enough for me that it can pass without exceptional notice.  But I do feel I higher level of enjoyment/simcha when davening on the chagim and wonder if I am the only one.  

חג שמח!