The core debate boils down to this: Did the descendants of Noah, meaning all humanity before the giving of the Torah at Sinai, offer only burnt offerings, or did they also offer peace offerings? Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina are our guides in this discussion, disagreeing on this very point. Rabbi Elazar argues they offered peace offerings, while Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina maintains they only offered burnt offerings.
Rabbi Elazar brings a powerful argument: the story of Abel from the Book of Genesis (4:4). Abel "brought from the firstborn of his flock and the choicest of them [meḥelvehen]." Rabbi Elazar interprets meḥelvehen as something whose fat [ḥelev] is offered on the altar, which would make it a peace offering. See, with a burnt offering, everything is consumed by the fire. But with a peace offering, only certain parts are burned, and the rest is eaten. So, Rabbi Elazar is saying Abel's offering, with its emphasis on the fat, seems more like a peace offering.
But Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina isn't so easily swayed. He interprets "the choicest of them" as simply meaning the fattest of the flock, still suitable for a burnt offering.
The debate continues, with Rabbi Elazar bringing up further challenges. What about when the young men of Israel offered sacrifices in Exodus 24:5, before the Torah was given? "He sent the young men of the children of Israel and they offered burnt offerings and they slaughtered peace offerings [shelamim]." Doesn't that imply peace offerings were offered before the Torah? Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina cleverly interprets this verse according to another opinion: that the offerings were "complete [shelemim]" meaning they were offered with their hides intact, without the usual flaying and quartering.
Then there's Yitro, Moses' father-in-law. Exodus 18:12 says, "Yitro, father-in-law of Moses, took a burnt-offering and feast offerings to God." Another strike in favor of peace offerings before the Torah, right? Not so fast! Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina explains this by citing the opinion that Yitro converted after the giving of the Torah.
This brings up a related debate, this time between Rabbi Ḥiyya and Rabbi Yanai: When did Yitro convert? Before or after the giving of the Torah? Rabbi Huna ingeniously suggests that these debates aren't separate but intertwined. The timing of Yitro's conversion hinges on whether the descendants of Noah offered peace offerings or not. If Yitro converted before the Torah, then he's part of that pre-Torah world, and his offerings could include peace offerings. But if he converted after, then he's bound by the laws of the Torah.
Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina even brings in a verse from the Song of Songs (4:16) as support: "Awake, north, and come, south." He interprets the "north" as referring to the burnt offering, which was slaughtered in the northern part of the Temple courtyard. Why "awake"? Because, he says, the patriarchs sacrificed burnt offerings, which were then dormant during the Israelite's time in Egypt. The giving of the Torah "awakened" them. He sees the "south" as the thanks offering, a new innovation that "came" into being.
He also reads Leviticus 6:2 "This is the law of the burnt offering, it is the burnt offering" as implying this offering was already familiar to the world, offered by the descendants of Noah.
Rabbi Elazar, however, provides a different interpretation to the verse from Song of Songs (4:16). He sees it as a prophecy! "Awake, north" refers to the exiles in the north who will eventually return and settle in the south (Jeremiah 31:7). He even connects it to the coming of Gog from the north (Ezekiel 39:2) and the messianic king who will rebuild the Temple in the south (Isaiah 41:25). It’s quite a different take, isn't it?
Rabbi Yosei, citing Rabbi Binyamin bar Levi, adds a beautiful thought: In this world, the north and south winds don't blow simultaneously. But in the World to Come, God will bring a rare wind that blows in both directions, gathering all of God’s children from the farthest reaches of the earth (Isaiah 43:6).
And finally, Rabbi Yoḥanan offers a lovely teaching about etiquette from the Torah: that a bridegroom doesn't enter the wedding canopy until the bride gives permission, drawing a parallel to Song of Songs 4:16 and 5:1. "Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat his delicious fruits," followed by, "I came to my garden, my sister, my bride."
So, what are we left with? More than just a debate about ancient sacrifices. We have a glimpse into the intricate world of rabbinic interpretation, where verses are examined from every angle, where seemingly unrelated texts illuminate each other, and where even disagreements can lead to profound insights. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How many layers of meaning are hidden within the words we read?