By Rabbi Jordan Parr

Parashat Aharei Mot

Were we to ignore last week’s parasha, Tazria-Metzora, we would see that the Torah gives us an interrupted narrative, starting with the death of Nadav and Avihu (Parashat Shemini), diverting to the skin and home afflictions in these parshiyot, and then returning to the original story: what happens after the death of the two sons of Aaron (literally “Aharei Mot”), Nadav and Avihu.

We know that G-d commanded Aaron and his two surviving sons not to mourn Nadav and Avihu. Why? While there are many theories put forward, perhaps the one that makes the most sense is that Jewish mourning practices, such as shiva and sheloshim, end early when there is a Yom Tov. Yes, this is a Rabbinic edict, but it makes for a nice Midrash: Aaron and his sons cannot mourn because there is a Yom Tov approaching, and as the High Priest, Aaron has to be able to offer the sacrifices.

Now, which Yom Tov sacrifice is Aaron offering? Leviticus, Chapter 16, gives us the answer: Aaron is to offer the Yom Kippur sacrifices. Yom Kippur ends Aaron’s aveilut, his mourning period.

What Aaron does for Yom Kippur at first appears routine: dress for the holy day and bring a bull and a ram for the usual offerings. Nothing new here.

But in verse 5, we read something strange: Aaron is to take two male goats and, by lot, offer one of them on the altar. The other goat waits around a bit and, in verse 21, Aaron lays his hands upon this poor goat and confesses the sins of the entire people. After that, this “scapegoat” is taken into the wilderness, to a place (or person) called Azazel. The sins of the people die with the death of the goat.

It must have been nice to think that transferring our sins onto a literal scapegoat enables our sins to die with the goat. If we believed that today, the goat population would be an endangered species. In our day and age, we have to atone for our own sins; a goat just does not do the trick.

We know what we have to do: seek forgiveness from each other before we ask forgiveness from G-d, fast on Yom Kippur if we are able, offer our prayers with kavannah (our thoughts directed toward heaven) and abstain from any activity that might bring us pleasure. It’s a long day, to be sure, but it is the most solemn day on our calendar.

But when the Second Temple stood, the march to Azazel seemed to have been rather joyous. The Talmud tells us that there was a parade from the Temple into the Judean wilderness. A priest led the goat to Azazel, and the Jews followed. There were even water stations along the way in case the journey led to excessive thirst or exhaustion. (Yes, it was more important to stay healthy than to faint from fasting and hiking.) The parade stood in stark contrast to the solemn Yom Kippur Temple rituals.

Times change, and we Jews do not offer goats upon a Temple altar. But we should always remember how we worshipped in the past. There was great meaning in the march to Azazel — except for the goat, I guess. But when we see that the people’s sins died with the goat, we can understand the great transference that happened. Even if we don’t transfer our sins today, it’s worth noting that there were — and still are — many different ways to atone for our sins. No matter our perspective, none of us are exempt from atonement. That is the true meaning of this parasha.

Shabbat Shalom!

Rabbi Jordan Parr is a retired rabbi living in the Dallas area. He has led congregations, taught at the University of North Texas and has been a blogger and podcaster. Currently, he is a doctoral student at the Spertus Institute for Jewish Studies in Chicago, Illinois.