Why God Asked for Animal Sacrifices

Smoke rises from the altar in Jerusalem. A farmer stands before it, his prized bull now ascending in flames. To our modern sensibilities, this scene from the ancient Temple is jarring, even disturbing. Why would a loving God command such a barbaric practice? And with two millennia having passed since the last sacrifice, what could these laws possibly teach us today?

The answer begins with a subtle nuance in the text of this week’s Torah portion. The Torah introduces the sacrifices with the words, “When a man from among you will bring a sacrifice to God…” Or, at least that’s how it’s commonly translated. The verse actually reads “When a man will bring from you a sacrifice to God…”¹ The word “mikem” (from you) is conspicuously out of place. From this misplaced word, Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, the author of the Tanya, derives a profound truth: when you bring an offering, you are meant to offer your very self – “mikem” (from you).

What does it mean to offer oneself? On a simple level, it means sacrificing one’s physical resources. In Temple times, a cow held similar value and utility as our cars today. Imagine donating your car to a worthy cause – that’s a personal sacrifice that demonstrates true devotion. On a deeper level, as the Ramban teaches, one who offers a sacrifice must feel as though they themselves are being offered on the altar.

But why would God want us to sacrifice ourselves, even metaphorically?

Elevation, Not Elimination

In the Tanya, Rabbi Shneur Zalman teaches that a person is born with two aspects to their soul – the animal soul (Nefesh HaBehamis) and the Godly soul (Nefesh Elokis). Our animal soul pulls us towards physical pleasures and self-preservation, while our Godly soul yearns for spirituality and transcendence. Through sacrifice, we’re taught to surrender our lower nature to reach spiritual heights. The message seems clear: transcend the physical to connect with the divine.

If that’s true, we might expect Judaism to embrace asceticism – a life of spiritual seclusion and physical denial. Yet walk into any Orthodox community and you’ll discover Rabbis surrounded by large families, communities gathering for lavish festive meals, and wedding celebrations with seven days of singing and dancing.

This is the uniquely Jewish approach to spirituality – not rejecting the physical world, but sanctifying it. To understand how this works, we need to look deeper into the meaning of the Hebrew word for sacrifice – ‘korbon.’ The word shares its root with ‘kiruv’ (to bring close) and ‘krovim’ (relatives), revealing the true purpose of sacrifice: not to destroy the physical, but to bring it closer to the divine. Through sacrifice, an animal, representing the physical world, becomes the very means by which we connect to the spiritual. We see this in the sacrifices themselves – most were partially eaten by the priests or the ones bringing the offering, transforming a physical act into a sacred connection.

An Animal’s Greatest Honor

You might still be wondering about the animal’s fate in all of this. Isn’t it unfair, even cruel, to sacrifice an innocent creature for our spiritual elevation? To answer this question, let me present you with a choice: If you were an animal, how would you want to live your life? Consider the possibilities:

You could live and die in nature, sustaining the ecosystem but touching nothing beyond.
You could live near mankind and, on rare occasion, inspire thoughtful humans through your beauty.
You could become food, fueling human activities.
Or – in your highest form – you could directly facilitate the connection between humanity and God, i.e. become a sacrifice.

Isn’t the choice obvious? Tradition tells us that in Temple times, animals would actually line up for sacrifice. Just as a soldier willingly gives his life for a noble cause, these animals participated in something far greater than mere survival. They became living bridges between heaven and earth.

Modern Day Sacrifice

Today, we don’t have a temple or an altar, but we do have lives we can dedicate to doing good and building God’s world. We don’t have cows, goats, and sheep, but we have time, wealth, and skills waiting to be offered to fulfill our life’s mission and connect heaven and earth.

This week, examine one area of your life – perhaps your morning routine, your professional skills, or even how you spend your free time. Ask yourself: How could this resource serve something higher? Then make one concrete change to elevate that aspect of your life.

May our daily choices become worthy offerings, elevating both ourselves and the world around us.

Shabbat Shalom,
Avraham

Featured Image: by Alex Levin