Since the outbreak of the war, Jews in Israel and abroad have made profound sacrifices for the survival and security of the Jewish state and its citizens. This week’s parasha—Vayikra—centers on the theme of sacrifices, making its message especially poignant at this time.
Among the offerings detailed in the parasha, some are classified as “kodshim kalim“—of lesser sanctity—while others fall under “kodshei kodoshim,” the holiest of sacrifices. The distinctions between these categories lie in where they may be slaughtered and consumed, by whom, and within what time frame. In the case of kodshim kalim, portions of the offering are burned on the altar, while the remainder is eaten by the priests and the donor as part of a sacred meal. Kodshei kodoshim, however, are of a higher sanctity, and the donor is not permitted to partake of them at all. Within this elevated category lies the olah—the one sacrifice forbidden even to the priest. The donor presents the olah at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting, lays hands upon it, and slaughters it. The priest then dashes its blood on the altar and places its meat upon the fire, where it is consumed entirely. Unlike other sacrifices, which serve purposes of atonement, thanksgiving, or peace offerings, the olah raises a fundamental question: What is its purpose, and what might it teach us today?
The word olah means—”to ascend”—and it likely refers both to its complete consumption by fire and to the symbolic ascent of its smoke to the heavens, an expression of devotion to God. As a kodesh kodoshim offering, the olah represents the ultimate devotion to God. But what would be the modern parallel for one who seeks to perform such an act of devotion—not to God, but to the Jewish people and the Jewish state?
While in an act of devotion to God, animal sacrifices may be adequate, in an act of devotion of other Jews they are not. The offering required is far greater: it is our own flesh and blood, not that of animals. The embodiment of this ultimate devotion can be seen in the soldiers of the IDF. Since the war began, these men and women—including hundreds of thousands of reservists who left behind their families and livelihoods—have put everything aside and risked their lives to defend the nation. Their unwavering determination, resilience, and courage have inflicted severe setbacks upon our enemies, turning the tide of battle in Israel’s favor.
One soldier whose sacrifice has become emblematic of this spirit is Aner Shapira, a sergeant in the Nahal Brigade and a gifted musician and songwriter. Last week, in a solemn and emotional ceremony, those whose lives he saved honored him as his first album was released posthumously.
On October 7, Shapira attended the Nova festival in Reim with friends, including Hersh Goldberg-Polin. When the Hamas attack began, he and his friends fled, eventually reaching a field shelter crowded with 24 others. As gunfire and rocket-propelled grenades rained down, Shapira stood in the entrance, taking command and trying to calm those inside. As terrorists lobbed grenades into the shelter, he caught them and hurled them back—seven times (Hamas recorded this spine-chilling and heart-rending exchange. To see it, click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZw21sHqUf8&rco=1). On the eighth attempt, the grenade detonated in his hands, killing him instantly. The terrorists then stormed the shelter, murdering some and kidnapping others, yet thanks to Shapira’s heroism, many survived.
Aner Shapira, along with countless others who have given their lives to protect others, are the modern-day olah and are kodesh kodoshim. They represent the ultimate devotion whose spirits, like the ancient offerings, have ascended to heaven. In their merit, may we find the strength to prevail over our enemies and build a better future, one of peace and hope.
Shabbat Shalom.
