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 The Hebrew word for guilt is asham.
by David Koral
Special To The Jewish Week
Nagging doubt looms larger than life, threatening our sense of security, of self-worth, creating conflict that no “should haves” or “could haves” can resolve. A word blurted out or a rash decision in the heat of the moment is something one may replay mentally for the rest of one’s life. When a fatal mistake comes back to haunt us, we would like to console ourselves with the excuse: it is unfair to be held accountable for an involuntary act.
The Hebrew word for guilt is asham. “Carrying the seed of desolation within,” according to Samson Raphael Hirsch, shares the asham’s etymology. Asheimim anachnu, say Joseph’s brothers, while in his presence: “We are guilty concerning our brother; we saw the distress of his soul and we would not hear.”
While no special powers are inherent in the “Guilt Sacrifice,” something is required as a means of payment. Psalm 50 asks, does God eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats? Nehama Leibowitz writes that sacrifices are a “closed book,” a mystery, beyond our means of understanding. Maimonides considered animal sacrifice a means of weaning God’s people from paganism to a more enlightened form of worship. Over time, he believed, it would no longer be required. Prophets such as Amos and Isaiah decried sacrifices as externalia, whereas it was ethical action that mattered.
One explanation Rashi offers for sacrifice is pa rticularly soothing: the re’ach n’choach, the “sweet savor,” gives God the gratification that Israel is doing His will. Later commentators suggest that sacrifices are a tool for spiritual progress, a sacrifice of the human ego, a step in our becoming a “nation of priests.”
However, at times even the High Priest’s connection to God may be severed, as is the case in Chapter 4 of Leviticus. Things go wrong; an inadvertent transgression of a Torah prohibition has been committed, and an asham offering, is prescribed as the only way back.
It is unclear what these sins could be: The asham offering, according to Rashi, comes about when an erroneous decision is handed down by the Sanhedrin, the supreme judicial body embodying the intellect and guidance of the Jewish people. Ramban offers as examples the misuse of holy objects, or forgetfulness of a state of impurity, but arrives at the general conclusion that taking matters lightly, with the assumption one will not be punished, can have the most serious consequences. When the High Priest, the spiritual representative of all Israel, errs, although his sin may be unintentional, he may jeopardize his own connection with God and incur karet, excision, thereby leaving the Jewish nation with no one to intercede for them.
The real sin, in Hirsch’s opinion, comes from that momentary lapse. As with a driver who takes his eyes off the road for even a second, when one’s attention veers from God’s path, the results can be disastrous. For that one instant, one is considered without intelligence, as an animal, and an animal soul must be sacrificed to restore the lost connection. At the critical moment when the nation’s connection with God is at risk, sweet savors or affirmations to make ourselves better people are inappropriate. The blood of sacrifice is not dashed in broad strokes against the side of the altar but sprinkled before the veil in front of the ark, furtive, tentative gestures reflecting the paralyzing sense of shame that grips the people.
Hirsch considers these seven sprinklings before the veil, aimed within a narrow space between the staves supporting the ark, as a way to refocus oneself, to regain the deep concentration, or commitment, that has been lost, and now seems far off. While some sins are blatant, others are hard to peg down. Like whispered apologies, these sprinklings — tiny but significant gestures — are a subtle re-imaging of the very things that escape one’s mind, a jog of the memory to mirror back the “stain” created by sin. When our lapses and efforts at rectification are externalized, guilt transcends into relationship.
David Koral is a senior production editor at HarperCollins.
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