There is no end to the list of the things that make Judaism remarkable. Near the top of the list, though, is the fact that Judaism has been subjected to enormous changes but has nevertheless emerged unscathed, with its integrity intact.

Consider, for example, the fact that Judaism began as a religion intimately related to life in one particular land, the holy Land of Israel, but has adapted to thousands of years of life in the Diaspora.

Consider that the biblical governance model of king, priest, and prophet, established during Judaism’s most formative phase, was completely obliterated thousands of years ago. But here we are.

And perhaps the premier example of change and adaptation is the end of the sacrificial system. The whole institution of sacrifices, involving the Temple, the priesthood, and universal national service to the Temple rituals has disappeared—to some extent due to external forces that made sacrifice physically impossible (the Roman conquest, etc.), and to some degree internal spiritual forces (prayer and study) as well.

Indeed, the rabbis use their own form of jiu jitsu (or should I say Jew jitsu?) to justify the substitution of study and prayer for sacrifice based on the spiritual meaning of sacrifice itself. This sleight of hand appears in the Talmud which envisions a conversation between Abraham and G-d. Abraham was, after all, the master of sacrifice, tasked with offering up his own son Isaac. (And although all parents come to understand why some species eat their young, Abraham by all indications was not sacrificing Isaac out of pique, but rather out of obligation.)

Abraham and G-d are discussing the process of repentance and forgiveness. The conversation goes something like this: As long as the Temple was standing, together with the elaborate system of sacrifices as well as the support staff—cohanim and leviim—to support those sacrifices, forgiveness could come through the sacrifices—korbanot in Hebrew, meaning “things which bring us closer” to G-d. But once the Temple is destroyed—now what? To which Hashem responds: I have already outlined the array of sacrifices in the Torah. Whenever they read it, I will credit the people with having brought the described offerings before Me and pardon all their transgressions.” (Megiillah 31b).

So from sacrifice we move on to learning about sacrifice. And from learning about it, we move on to praying about it. And that is why, in the musaf serve for shabbat and holidays, we mention quite specifically the sacrifices for those special days. Indeed the entire musaf service is intended to serve as a reminder of the sacrifices we can no longer make.

In fact, a case could be made that prayer is not just a substitute for sacrifice, but rather an improvement on it. Most of us probably believe that. Maimonides would certainly think so. And surely all the sheep and goats and occasionally bulls are, we could expect, heartily in favor. But such a substitution is not a mere parlor trick. We must learn to daven as if we were doing a sacrifice: with purity of heart and hands, with total concentration on Hashem, and with total awareness of our own limitations and failures.

That’s a lot different than wondering what kind of herring there will be at kiddush. “Musaf” meaning “the additional service” offers us an additional chance to serve Hashem, and do it right. We shouldn’t squander the opportunity.