A Tale of Two Goats

A Tale of Two Goats
Rabbi Ari Lorge

Two identical goats walk up to a Temple…
It is not the beginning of a joke.
It is the beginning of the wild and confounding origins of Yom Kippur.
Yom Kippur was not always a decorous, solemn day of prayer.
It was once visceral, cultic, carnal, and foreboding.

Among the many Yom Kippur rituals described in this week’s Torah portion
The most famous, and the most consequential
is the enigmatic ritual of the 2 goats.

This was to our ancestors what Kol Nidre is to us:
The moment upon which the year tottered.

How did it work?
The Israelite priests found two identical goats.
They were led to the entrance of the ancient Temple.
The fate of these twin creatures hung in the balance.
One would be welcomed into the Sanctuary and sacrificed as an atonement agent for the people.
The other was touched by the High Priest and imbued with all the sins of the nation.
Then it was driven out of the camp, pushed into the wilderness – its fate unknown.
Which goat would be sanctified and which exiled was determined by the casting of lots.
One lot said, “for God.” That goat would enter the sanctuary as the sacrifice.
The other lot said, “For Azazel” – I would translate that, but no one knows what it means. This goat was driven out into the wilderness.

Our sages and commentators go wild over this ritual.
They have so much to say.
While you could argue it is because it is about Yom Kippur, one of the most important moments of the entire calendar, the mountains of commentary are primarily created because no one truly understands what is going on.
Why goats?
Why identical ones?
Why does one live and one die? Or do they? What happens to the goat that is sent away?
Why does that goat receive Israel’s sins rather than the one who is slaughtered?
What is Azazel?
Why cast lots to determine their fate?
Why is this the main Yom Kippur ritual, rather than something more in line with the rest of the sacrificial cult?

Our ancestors have searched for answers.
After all, the work is mysterious and important.

Their explanations are varied and without clear consensus.

But, one of the most resonant, and relevant interpretations comes from Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, a neo-orthodox commentator of the 1800’s.
Hirsch suggests this entire ritual must be read symbolically.
He teaches the goats are identical, because they symbolize the individual. Both of the goats are us but separated by a choice. Each of us stands before God with two divergent paths unfolding. In every moment of decision, we determine which path we will travel.

What is the decision? It is the same one placed upon the lots that are cast:
For the Wilderness
or
For the Sanctuary.

Hirsch says it is up to us to choose. We are given free will – and like the High priest waiting to see how the lots will fall, God waits to see which path we will chart – which goats’ fate we take for our own.

What does it mean to choose the wilderness?
Noting that the goat that is chosen for the wilderness remains alive while the other is slaughtered, Hirsch suggests choosing the wilderness means surrendering to our animality; to the worst of our drives and inclination. We choose the wilderness when we make decisions according to our sensuality, lust, greed, selfishness, and self-centeredness. We choose the wilderness when we act upon that aspect of our nature, rather than using our willpower to overcome it. Hirsch declares, that such a person has no place in the sanctuary, and no place in the sphere of national life.

What does it mean to choose the Sanctuary?
It means being willing to sacrifice our animality. That is why the goat that enters the Sanctuary is sacrificed – as a symbol of what we sacrifice when we subordinate ourselves to a higher purpose. To enter the Sanctuary, to come close to God, to live in and toil for a community, we must be ready to offer up our base instincts upon an altar to something larger. To enter the sanctuary is to be someone who chooses to do what is right over what is gratifying, to act for the greater good instead of simply our own welfare, to be someone on whom demands can be made instead of someone who shirks responsibility, to be someone who uses their power to care for the weak and vulnerable rather than mistreat them.

Writing in the mid 1800’s, Rabbi Hirsch aptly diagnosed our condition. He wrote, “Respected or scorned, great or humble, rich or poor, today or tomorrow, no matter what the extent of one’s powers or possessions, and at any time – anyone can become either for God or for the Wilderness.”

Our tradition knows there are moments in time when society glorifies the impulses Judaism demands we overcome. We stand 80 years from Victory in Europe Day, almost to the day. This terrible anniversary is a stark reminder of what the world looks like and what the costs can be when people reach into the wild rather than the Sanctuary.

I know, it is lonely to seek the Sanctuary while others reach for the wilderness. But the ancient rabbis are clear.

ובמקום שאין אנשים, השתדל להיות איש”

Wherever humanity is lacking, strive to fulfill your humanity.”

May we hold in our hearts the truth that every day is Yom Kippur. Our choices can build a Sanctuary fit for God where all dwell together in tranquility, free from fear and want. Or we can make choices that expand the edges of the wild into our cities and neighborhoods, our homes and our hearts. May we continue to strive for the Sanctuary.