Relationship or Institution?
This week’s parashah, Vayikra, וַיִּקְרָ֖א, in Hebrew means “And He called”. It was also called Leviticus in Greek, which suggests two completely different perspectives on its reading and purpose.
I started imagining what would happen if I received an invitation from none other than King Felipe VI at the Zarzuela Palace, calling me to a “meeting”. Naturally, I rationally pictured several scenarios: First, I would ask about the requirements for appearing before the king; second, what would I wear? Third, what could I bring as a gift for the king to remind him of our encounter? Perhaps my greatest challenge would be: What could I offer a king who needs nothing? My gift would most likely end up in a storage room full of souvenirs like this. What special offering could I bring to him to have him remember me and, in so doing, gain his favour?
This is a metaphor for God, who, according to Psalms 24:1, is the Owner of all that exists: “The earth is the LORD’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.”
How often have I heard that God desires our hearts! And what a sad disappointment for us that God really doesn’t need or want anything from us! And even less…something as deceitful as our hearts. Then comes the existential question from our prophet Micah (6:8): “With what can I come before the LORD, to bow down before our God Most High?”
I would like to develop a theme that the “means” is not what is important; rather, it is the intention. God wants to develop a relationship with us, and this is somehow implicit in the word “Vayikra וַיִּקְרָ֖א”.
In Numbers 23:4 in the story of Bilaam, a most casual form of the word used for calling is וַיִּקָּר (Vayikar). It says: וַיִּקָּר אֱלֹהִים אֶל־בִּלְעָם “Vayikar Adonai el-Bilaam And God met Bilaam”. What is inferred here in the use of vayikar is “by chance”. This is repeated in chapter 23:16 “And the word of the LORD came to Bilaam”וַיִּקָּר אֱלֹהִים. In contrast, the expression used for Moses in Vayikra 1:1 states, וַיִּקְרָ֖א אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֑ה Vayikra el Moshe, And he called Moses”. This subtle shift is made evident by the use of the last letter – aleph, and its connotation differs between the “calling”, which is based upon a “relationship”, “intimacy”, and a “calling” derived from a chance encounter, suggesting a non-permanent state. As Rashi said, Vayikra denotes affection and a calling with intention. God simply “crosses paths” with Bilaam, while with Moses, God “calls” him.
Furthermore, the Hebrew word for “I” is אֲנִי (Ani), which begins with the letter Aleph, but in Leviticus, the aleph is smaller than the other letters, signifying that to hear God’s voice and His call, one must have less ego. The “I” is reduced, but it does not disappear, because, as our parashah states later, God seeks to draw man (Adam) near. To listen, the ego must not dominate, but neither should it seek to erase the Aleph, that is, to reduce our identity to nothing. Without this Aleph of the “I,” the encounter would be unplanned, disconnected. However, from the “balanced I,” God seeks an encounter, a relationship; by reducing my “I”, I create space, room to hear the Divine voice.
So, we might say that Vayikra is a book that offers creative ideas for approaching God and maintaining a relationship with Him. God doesn’t call Moses from the Mishkan, which, according to our sages, represents a Sanctuary or dwelling place, or from the Mikdash, representing a Holy Place, but rather from the Ohel Moed, the Tent of Meeting, because this place signifies “relationship”. In the same way, God doesn’t call us from a physical place like a synagogue or an online Zoom link, but from a place of encounter at an opportune moment—that is, a kind of divine appointment.
Do you remember that God revealed Himself to Jacob at the Makom (an unnamed place)? Genesis 28:11 says, “And he found himself in a place, Vayifga וַיִּפְגַּע b’makom”. This is another type of encounter. Jacob was fleeing at night, tired, stressed because his brother wanted to kill him, vulnerable, and adrift in life. And while Jacob was disconnected from his physical surroundings, he lay down and received a vision, a purpose, at a place he would later call Beit-el (The House of God). This encounter was fortuitous and, we may say, intentional, but we see that God called Moses not from “a place,” and “not at night,” but from a Tent at a specific time. These are not chance encounters; they are encounters with the purpose of developing a relationship.
Thus, we can identify three types of encounters with the Divine, and perhaps many of us have gone through these stages in our life’s journey: First, Vayikar, an encounter in which God appears in our life, but we think it’s just a coincidence. Our spiritual nature is “asleep and almost unconscious” of what God is communicating to us, like Bilaam, “the seer who does not see clearly.” Then, perhaps due to anguish, sorrow, or an experience, God leads us to “a place—Makom,” and at that moment, there is a revelation we don’t understand, but we cannot ignore. We know it might take 20 years to realize we were in “Beitel.” And finally, we reach a state of Vayikra, the encounter where there is awareness, dialogue, and intimacy with God. Awareness because we understand that God is speaking to us; we know it is God. Dialogue because there is a relationship and an intimacy that allows us to hear His still, small voice. We go from ignoring the Divine call, which we didn’t notice (not that we don’t actively want to “respond” to it), to being shaken by a Divine voice, and then we consciously respond. The place hasn’t changed; we change. At this point, we manage to move from Makom to Beit-El.
Later, 1 Samuel 3:4 says, “וַיִּקְרָא יְהוָה אֶל־שְׁמוּאֵל” “Vayikra Adonai el Shmuel,” “And the LORD called Samuel”, using the same words as with Moses, except there is no Tent of Meeting, no Ochel Moed. It is interesting that the text adds that Samuel did not yet know the LORD (1 Samuel 3:7), that he was under Eli’s authority, and was lying near the Ark in the place where the sanctuary was temporarily located. Samuel hears God’s voice as the light of the sanctuary was going out, that is, at the end of the night and the beginning of the day, just before dawn. Samuel hears and knows that the call, the Voice, is not common, but it is not like Moses, who was aware of the call (Moses knew God, and Samuel, according to the text, did not – yet). Samuel is in the right place, the right environment, in service, and at the correct time, yet he doesn’t recognize the Voice. Many of us are serving in our communities, but we haven’t learned to listen to GOD. Why? Because Samuel’s Aleph wasn’t small as it was in Leviticus 1, so, there wasn’t enough space to receive the message. It’s only when he goes to Eli with humility, listens to him as his teacher, and follows his instructions (obedience) —actions that gradually reduce his Aleph—that he manages to utter the following words: “Speak, for your servant is listening.”
Following the idea that Leviticus is a book of relationships, we see that it is not simply a manual of rituals but a guidebook on how to approach God through korban (from karov, “closeness”). The Torah describes various ways of approaching God—through animal, grain, or bird offerings—without emphasizing the object itself, but rather the inner motivation that drives the offeror to approach. This act of approaching encompasses several dimensions of human life: First, there are different levels in our relationship with God: Olah, which represents total surrender; Mincha, which expresses simplicity and humility; and Shelamim, which arises from gratitude and relationship. Second, in our relationship with ourselves, there appears Asham, in which our guilt confronts us and compels us to take responsibility, while we grapple with shame and the awareness of wrongdoing. Third, in our relationship with others, the Torah introduces Chataat, which leads us to acknowledge our faults and repair what we have damaged, restoring relationships. And finally, fourth, in our relationship with the material world, the korbanot teach us that even the mundane can be elevated; that the physical is not an obstacle, but an opportunity for transformation when offered with the right intention.
Coming back to the beginning, if the King of the Universe were to call us this very day, would we be able to present ourselves before Him without guilt, elevating the mundane to something better, something that transforms us, with gratitude, humility, and total surrender before Him? Will there be enough space in our “Aleph” to hear His voice? Will we hear Him from just any place, from the Makom, or from the Ochel Moed? Will our encounter be in Vayikar or Vayikra? In darkness, at dawn, or during the perfect light of day? In a distant relationship, in a spiritual awakening, or in a mature relationship?
The Greek world led us to believe that what mattered was “Leviticus,” originating from the Greek Λευιτικόν(Leuitikon), referring to “Levitical matters.” This occurred in the 2nd-3rd centuries BC, when the Septuagint was debated among men who regarded it as a compendium of priestly laws and details on the duties of the tribe of Levi (including its rituals, sacrifices, and purity regulations). So, for them, the book was about the Levites and their functions – the institution prevailed. In contrast, God began this book with Vayikra…it begins with God calling a person with his own identity, Moses, by name, emphasizing that the book is about relationship, about intimacy, about a close encounter. Today, the world wants to replace relationships with institutions. They have lost the understanding that it’s not about “serving” or “being someone in the community”; it’s about listening to the Voice and actively responding to it. This is why God introduced the Korbanot, so that we might draw near to Him and have a relationship with Him, whatever the reason. It wasn’t the animals or the offerings that mattered, but the desire to respond to His Voice. In the end, what could we offer—animals and grain that already belong to Him?
My prayer is that we may have the merit to be called and to actively, not passively, listen to His Voice.
Shabbat Shalom
Mauricio Quintero