Yoma 68 a, b

The rabbis question dissection: is the bull offered in dissected pieces, is it skinned, is it offered inside of the Temple or outside of the camps?  Similarly, they question ritual impurity: at what point in the process of offering do the priest's garments become ritually impure? In answering the rabbis' questions, we learn a number of facts about the organization of Jerusalem two thousand years ago.  There were three camps in Jerusalem, modelled after the three camps in the desert.  First, the innermost part of the Mishkan or Temple housed the Divine Presence.  The second camp beside the Mishkan or Temple was where the Levites lived, and the Israelites resided in the surrounding area.

The rabbis wonder where the bull should be burned.  Can we determine this location based upon where the ashes are placed; where the animal is slaughtered?  This information helps us to understand one of the rabbis' first questions: when do garments become ritually impure?  Each ritual act carries its own sanctity and its own consequences if performed improperly.  Thus the person who kindles the fire and the person who carries the wood retain their ritual purity.  Only the person who lights the fire has to contend with ritually impure garments.  The ashes themselves are said to be placed on a slant outside.

The sacrifice of animals on Yom Kippur is not only bloody and precise, is an incredibly complex process.  It is difficult to imagine the number of people running around to orchestrate the rituals of the High Priest - setting up Altars, moving wood, collecting ashes, etc.  We learn in a new Mishna that people would signal that the goat had reached the wilderness of Azazel by waving scarves up upon their numerous platforms set up in advance.    Or, as Rabbi Yehuda suggests, someone would accompany the goat from Jerusalem toward Beit Chiddudo, which was a three mil journey.  When he reached the one mil mark, he would return - and then wait the time it took to walk one more mil. At that time, the goat would be in the wilderness just beyond Beit Chiddudo.  But Rabbi Yishmael's suggestion is a favourite: when the goat reaches the wilderness and the mitzvah is completed, the red ribbon in the Sanctuary will turn white.  Certainly easier than walking!

We are introduced to one more Mishna in today's daf.  It teaches us a number of novel components of the Yom Kippur service.  First, we are told that the High Priest can read Torah in the white priestly robes or in his own white robes. Second, we are told that a Torah scroll is passed from the hands of one macher to another: the synagogue attendant (cantor) to the head of the synagogue to the Deputy High Pirest to the High Priest.  Third, the High Priest reads from Leviticus 16:1 and from Leviticus 23:16.  After reading Numbers 29:7, he reads on by heart.  Fourth, we are told a number of blessings that the High Priest recites following the Torah reading.  Finally, we learn that one cannot witness the slaughter of the bull and goat AND the hear the High Priest chant Torah.  Why?  Because both were performed at the same time.

The Gemara tells us that the Torah reading must not have been part of the service, for the High Priest was allowed to wear his own clothing.   The rabbis are confused: the High Priest is also allowed to wear his priestly garments if he chooses while reading Torah.  Can a priest wear official clothing for his own purposes and not only for the performance of sacred rites?  And the larger question: are priests allowed to derive benefit from their priestly clothing?

An example is used regarding sleep.  Priests are allowed to eat while wearing their priestly clothing, but they are not allowed to sleep in that clothing.  Not because sleep is not a ritual function, but because the priests might pass wind while sleeping, which would be disrespectful.  Similarly, priests are allowed to walk while wearing this clothing even though the walking is not part of a ritual service.

Daf 68 moves us from the gore of slaughtering animals through ritual impurity and on to the clothing of the priests.  Tucked into that narrative is the Torah reading and blessings of the High Priest, which seems to be very important.  I wonder about that balance: ritual instruction verses spiritual connectedness.  I am guessing that our Sages believed that all of these questions were the same.  They were hoping to interpret and apply the word of G-d.  That means that reading the Torah is no more important than moving the ashes - all were the will of G-d.

Our modern culture creates a chasm between these two concepts.  We easily describe ourselves as 'spiritual' without adhering to any formal religious practice.  And if that lends meaning to life, then I have no critique.  But can there be true spirituality without a concept of what G-d might mean?  Do we need to care about what G-d might have hoped we would interpret?

My concept of G-d is not that of a sentient being who hopes or wants or writes down anything.  However, I do value the millions of hours devoted to understanding other possibilities.  Learning the conversations of our Sages helps me to balance that need for a feeling of connection to G-d with the need to intellectually wrestle with the G-d of my ancestors (rather than throwing it all away).