This week’s alumni Dvar Torah is by Rabbi Shlomo Zuckier
The inauguration of the Tabernacle featured several milu’im offerings, which ushered in the new holy place and set the stage for all future offerings. One of these milu’im offerings was a hattat, which served “to atone” (see Lev. 8:14-15). But what sin does the hattat of the millu’im atone for?
The Sifra ad. loc. (Tzav, Mekhilta de-Millu’im 15) addresses this question:
וישחט ויקח משה את הדם… ויקדשהו לכפר עליו – כפרה זו איני יודע מהו? אלא שאמר משה: בשעה שצוה אדון העולם להתנדב בדבר המקדש, דחקו ישראל איש איש והביאו שלא בטובתם, תהא כפרה זו שלא יהי דבר גזול במקדש, וכן הוא אומר כי אני ה’ אוהב משפט [שונא גזל בעולה].
“And he slaughtered [the hattat bull], and Moses took the blood and [placed it on the altar]… and he sanctified [the altar] to atone upon it.” -I do not know what this atonement is for!?
Rather, Moses said: At the time that the Master of the World commanded to donate for the Temple [i.e. Tabernacle], the people of Israel pressed one another [to give] and brought not of their good [will]. Let this be an atonement so that there won’t be any stolen items in the Temple.
Similarly it says “For I am the Lord who loves justice, who hates stealing in a burnt offering.” (Is. 61:8)
The divine charge to “take donations” for the Tabernacle (Ex. 25:2) elicited great excitement among Kelal Yisrael, to the point that people pressured one another to support the all-important cause. The social pressure yielded its intended result – massive participation – but it also meant that many offered gifts to the Tabernacle despite being less than fully willing.
Targum Yonatan on this verse also worries about insincere giving:
אוֹ דִילְמָא הִישְׁתְּכַּח בִּבְנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל דְלָא הֲוָה בְּלִבֵּיהּ לְמֵיתַיָא לַעֲבִידְתָּא וְשָׁמַע קַל כְּרוּזָא וְאִיסְתְּפֵי וְאַיְיתִי בְּלָא צְבוֹ
Maybe someone among the Israelites did not have it in his heart to donate to the project, and heard the announcement and was scared, and donated unwillingly.
Donations offered in response to pressure rather than out of true conviction may be considered stolen, at some level. Given this concern, the Sifra and Targum Yonatan explain that the sin-offering was brought to atone for the possibility that the construction of the Temple utilized stolen goods.
This fascinating Midrash and commentary highlights two important points, both in the sin it identifies in this scenario and in its broader ramifications.
First, the Sifra assumes that a donation made under pressure may be regarded as ill-gotten gains, requiring atonement. This position clearly assumes the importance of acting based on the proper motivation, even in carrying out good deeds. But it goes a step further, as well. The Sifra argues that, when people are forced into actions on the basis of censure, rather than on the basis of understanding the value of these actions, something is fundamentally amiss. In such cases, people’s very agency is being taken from them – along with their money! – as they are pushed to do things absent their fully willing participation.
This critique can be expanded to scenarios where social pressure and censure are effective in getting people to say, or even believe, certain propositions. Using social pressure or censure to force someone’s hand demeans and even dehumanizes them; it removes their agency and makes them objects rather than subjects. This is true of any approach that shames those it disagrees with, rather than educating them.
Coercion, of the softer or harder varieties, is sometimes necessary. But it always has a cost, and there is a point at which forcing someone else to do mitzvot becomes an act of theft.
The Sifra offers this teaching specifically regarding the Mishkan, a context crucial to fully appreciating its message. When defending their use of unsavory methods, people often offer the cliché that “it’s for a good cause,” or other arguments using the ends to justify the means. People often assume that, the more important the cause, the less important the means; arriving at the proper outcome is paramount, and the process must take a backseat.
The Sifra argues precisely the opposite position: unsuitable methods actually become more problematic as the purpose rises in eminence. Extracting charitable donations through social pressure might not be ideal, but no hattat is required to atone for doing so. The Temple has loftier standards – the stakes are much higher! God hates stealing in His offerings, and thus even this less obvious sin of coercing donations must be rectified.
The Mishkan is also the centerpiece of religious society. When building a religious world, one absolutely must take into account ethical concerns about the nature of the process. Whenever religious leaders invoke the importance of their enterprise – “We’re building Israeli society!” We’re building the community’s shul!” “We’re ensuring the next generation remains affiliated!” – as justifying ethically dubious steps, the Sifra thunders: “Who are you serving? God!? God hates stealing in an olah! God abhors ethical compromises in building religious institutions! If you dare to lower your ethical standards on account of a religious goal, God will take notice and you will bear your sin.”
As we build our personal and public religious worlds, we ought to think very carefully about these two messages. Are we acting freely or in response to pressure? Are we inspiring people to do the right thing, or are we forcing their hand? What compromises or ethical shortcuts are we taking, and to what degree do those choices of means that undermine our goals? God demands no less.
Shabbat Shalom!
R. Shlomo Zuckier (SBM ’12) is a member of YU’s Kollel Elyon, a PhD candidate and AJS Dissertation Completion Fellow at Yale University, and a Founder of The Lehrhaus.
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