It’s a weight that impacts not just them, but the entire community they serve. Let’s delve into a fascinating passage from Vayikra Rabbah, a midrashic commentary on the Book of Leviticus, that explores this very idea.
The passage opens with a question arising from Leviticus: “if the anointed priest shall sin.” The text highlights a critical concept: even the High Priest, the holiest figure, requires atonement if he errs. Rabbi Ḥiyya points out a hierarchy here, noting that the one who atones should precede the one who achieves atonement. This is supported by the verse “And atone for himself and for his household” (Leviticus 16:6). As the text explains, “his household” refers to his wife. So, the High Priest atones first for himself and his wife, then for the priests, and only then can he atone for the entire congregation. It's a layered system of responsibility and spiritual cleansing.
But, does an anointed priest even sin? Rabbi Levi asks this pointedly, adding a touch of sardonic humor. He says, “Pathetic is the province where the doctor has gout, the lookout has one eye, and the advocate prosecutes in capital cases.” In other words, it’s a tragedy when those in positions of power and responsibility are themselves flawed. If the High Priest sins, “he brings guilt on the people.” The Hebrew here is interesting: le’ashmat, which connects to le’esh, fire. The text states, it is due to the fire, the people die met. Rabbi Levi suggests that the High Priest’s sin is like a fire that consumes the nation, causing death.
The text presents an analogy: a bear keeper who eats the bear’s provisions. The king, upon discovering this, decrees, "Since he eats the bear’s provisions, let the bear eat him!” Similarly, God says, "Since he is deriving benefit from consecrations, let him be consumed by fire.” The message is stark: those who abuse their sacred roles will face severe consequences.
Rabbi Aivu then shares a chilling story about a ritual slaughterer in Tzippori who was feeding Jews meat from improperly slaughtered or mauled animals. One day, before Yom Kippur, he became drunk, fell from a roof, and died. Dogs began licking his blood, and people wondered if they were allowed to move the body. Rabbi Ḥanina forbade it, citing Exodus 22:30, “You shall be holy people to Me; you shall not eat flesh of a mauled animal in the field; you shall cast it to the dog.” Rabbi Ḥanina declares that this man robbed the dogs by feeding the forbidden meat to the Jews. Therefore, the dogs were justified in consuming him. A grim illustration of divine justice.
Finally, the passage turns to the ritual itself, focusing on the verse “He shall bring the bull to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting before the Lord, and he shall lay his hand on the head of the bull and slaughter the bull before the Lord” (Leviticus 4:4). Rabbi Yitzḥak explains that bringing the bull to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting is like a friend honoring a king with a gift and praise. The king, in turn, places the gift at the palace entrance so that everyone entering and exiting will see it. Similarly, the offering is placed prominently before God as a testament to the priest's (and the people's) commitment and repentance. It's a public display of seeking atonement.
What does this all tell us? It speaks to the incredible responsibility that comes with leadership, especially spiritual leadership. It reminds us that those in positions of power are held to a higher standard, and their actions have profound consequences for the entire community. And perhaps most importantly, it underscores the human need for atonement, regardless of status or position. We are all fallible, and the path to repentance and reconciliation is open to everyone.