The Small Alef and the Sacrifices We Are Called To Make

(A previous version of this text was published on this blog in Portuguese under the title "O pequeno alef e os sacrifícios a que somos chamados")

“Called to Moses, and ADONAI spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting, saying…” With this verse, this week’s parashah and the Book of Vayikra—Leviticus, the third of the five books of the Torah—begin. It is not entirely clear who called to Moses, and this has been the subject of much debate and speculation among commentators over the centuries.

Adding to the mystery is the final letter of the first word in the verse: an alef, which is written smaller than the rest of the letters on the page. Who might have called out to Moses, so that God could instruct him in the laws of sacrifice—the primary theme of this third book?

Some commentators understand the small alef as a signal that it is Moses’s own “I” (aní, in Hebrew) that calls him. They interpret this as meaning that each person must listen to their own deepest voice, their truest conscience, in order to define what truly matters to them and what sacrifices they are prepared to make—what they are willing to give up.

Another interpretation takes the small alef in a different direction, associating it with the Shechinah—the aspect of the Divine closest to our world and present in all things and all people. According to this reading, listening to the call of the small alef means paying attention to the world around us, in order to determine what sacrifices are required of us. While the first interpretation calls us to ask our inner selves where to engage, this one invites us to listen to what the world is crying out for—its most urgent needs. We look around, seeing the Divine in the faces of those close to us, as well as in those more distant. Which causes and projects cry out for our involvement, even if they are not the ones that naturally interest us?

In both approaches, personal sacrifice lies at the centre. We live in a time of material abundance, perhaps unprecedented in human history. Most of us possess far more “stuff” than we can meaningfully use in our lifetimes. We generate staggering amounts of waste each day and yet find it remarkably difficult to let go—to part with the things we hold dear. When we make donations, it is often money we will not miss or shoes we no longer wear; when we give gifts, they are usually items we’ve grown tired of.

Plenty of stories show that those who have the least are often the quickest to share—even if it means they’ll go without, even if they have to stretch the pot for an extra guest. The Book of Vayikra presents this behaviour as ideal: God instructs us to give up the best fruits, the best animals, to offer that which we will genuinely miss. And so, the small alef at the end of the book’s first word calls us to ask: what does our innermost truth tell us we must relinquish? What causes do we believe in deeply enough to support with our time and energy? What realities do we wish to help transform? What projects feel so important that we must be part of them, even at the cost of other interests?

A famous midrash teaches that Abraham came to the awareness of a singular God by observing that a burning tower must have a keeper—if the world was not consumed by chaos, then the Divine must be sustaining it. Many theologians say we now live in a time of Hester Panim, in which God hides the Divine face. It is our turn to listen to our inner voice, to observe the external reality, and to make the sacrifices we can, to prevent chaos from overwhelming the world entirely.

What is the cause that truly moves you? What need do you hear the world crying out for help with? What are you willing to sacrifice to ensure that we all live in a reality that is more just, more balanced, more inclusive, and more compassionate?

Shabbat Shalom!