Rico Cortes (Wisdom in Torah) is a Hebrew Roots teacher.

Rico Cortes (Wisdom in Torah) is a Hebrew Roots teacher. In the video “Part 1 companion,” he argues a technically correct point from Leviticus: the Pesach lamb is a shelamim (peace/fellowship offering), not a chatat (sin offering).
He then still applies John 1:29 (“the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world”) to Yeshua by blending other images—Isaiah 53, Yom Kippur, ransom language, and Hebrews. That combination is exactly where the Levitical system is left behind.
Here is the list of Leviticus prohibitions and structural rules that teaching runs against. These are the ones most directly in play when a man is presented as the lamb that removes the world’s sin and when that lamb is treated as a picture to look at.
Unauthorized slaughter and blood outside the designated place
- Leviticus 17:3–4, 8–9: Anyone who slaughters an ox, lamb, or goat and does not bring it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting to present it as an offering to Hashem—bloodguilt is on that person. The blood must be brought to the altar.
- Leviticus 17:11: “For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you upon the altar to make atonement…” Atonement by blood is tied to the altar, the priesthood, and the specific animal brought by the offerer or the community. A death that occurs outside that system does not fulfill the verse.
No human being may be offered
- Leviticus 18:21 and 20:2–5: Do not give any of your offspring to Molech. Human sacrifice is an abomination. The Torah never authorizes a man—even a righteous man—to function as the korban. The animals in Leviticus 1–7 and 16 are animals. Substituting a human for them inverts the entire category.
Each person bears his own sin; no transfer of guilt onto another human
- The Levitical system has the sinner (or the community via the high priest) bring the prescribed animal. The two goats of Leviticus 16 work inside that framework; they do not license a later human to “take away the sin of the world.” Ezekiel 18 (which restates the same principle) is consistent with Leviticus: the soul that sins shall die.
Images and likenesses
- Leviticus 19:4: “Do not turn to idols or make for yourselves molten gods.”
- Leviticus 26:1: “You shall not make idols for yourselves, or set up a carved image or a standing stone… to bow down to it.”
- The Second Saying (Exodus 20:4 / Deuteronomy 5:8) is the same commandment restated: no likeness of anything in the heavens, on the earth, or in the waters. A lamb presented as “the picture of Messiah” or “the man coming like a lamb to die for our sins” is precisely a likeness made to be looked at and meditated upon. That is the thing the commandment forbids.
Priestly and ritual boundaries
- Only descendants of Aaron may handle the blood and the offerings (Leviticus 6–7, 16). A teacher who assigns the high-priestly or atoning function to a first-century Galilean man is assigning a role Leviticus reserves for the kohanim operating at the altar.
- Different offerings have different blood applications (thrown, placed on horns, sprinkled toward the parochet). Mixing Pesach (shelamim), daily tamid lambs, and Yom Kippur goats into a single composite “Lamb of God” erases the distinctions that Leviticus spends chapters establishing.
Rico can quote Leviticus accurately on the classification of the Pesach lamb and still violate the book’s actual operating rules the moment he maps that lamb (or any other korban) onto a man whose death is said to remove sin for the world. That mapping is the violation.
On the second part of your question: the Torah does not give us a lamb as a picture of a coming man. Exodus 12 and Leviticus 23 give Israel a meal of protection and covenant identity, eaten in haste, with blood on the doorposts so the Destroyer would pass over.
It is not a visual aid for later theology. When later writers turn the lamb into an image of a dying Messiah, they are doing the thing the Ten Sayings and Leviticus 19:4 / 26:1 prohibit—making a likeness and attaching redemptive meaning to it. The commandment is “no images except the ones that help us understand Messiah.” It is no likeness of anything.
On Rico Cortes, Leviticus, and the Lamb of God
Hazan Gavriel ben David
Esnoga Beit HaShoavah · August 29, 2026
Rico Cortes presents himself as a Torah teacher and holds the title of Kohen. That title is not a decoration. It is a lineage, a charge, a burden. The kohanim were set apart to guard the altar, to handle the blood, to teach the people the difference between what is holy and what is profane. When a Kohen teaches the nations to violate the Torah, the violation is not his alone. It is his by inheritance.
In his lecture “The Passover Lamb Was Never a Sin Offering — So What Did John 1:29 Mean?,” Cortes does exactly that. He makes the most guarded category in the Levitical system — the sin-bearing offering — and he hands it to a man. He creates the image the Second Saying forbids, and he makes it the centerpiece of devotion. He does this not as a pagan, but as a man who claims to stand inside the covenant.
The violations are not subtle. They are structural.
In Egypt, the lamb was not a dinner animal. It was a god. The ram was the face of Khnum, the potter who formed men from Nile clay, and of Amun, king of the gods. That is why Moses refuses Pharaoh’s offer to sacrifice in the land. Exodus 8:22 in the Hebrew — English 8:26 — is blunt: ki toevat Mitzrayim nizbach l’Hashem Eloheinu… hen nizbach et toevat Mitzrayim l’eineihem v’lo yiskelunu. “We would be slaughtering the toevah of Egypt to Hashem our God. If we slaughter the toevah of Egypt before their eyes, will they not stone us?”
Rashi on Genesis 46:34 says the same thing about shepherds: every shepherd is toevat Mitzrayim “because the flock is a deity to them.” The construct is toevat Mitzrayim — Egypt’s toevah — not “Israel is an abomination.” A grammar teacher would mark the English. You do not call a people’s god an “abomination” in their own mouth and then expect them to stone you for killing it. You stone a man for killing what you hold sacred.
Shadal and A. S. Yahuda both note that Hebrew toevah sits next to Egyptian wab / uab — “pure, set apart, holy.” What Egypt called holy, Israel called toevah, and the Torah uses Egypt’s own category against Egypt: the ram they set apart is the animal Israel must slaughter. Pesach in Egypt is not a picture of a later Messiah. It is Israel killing Egypt’s false god in public, under a sentence of stoning, and walking out alive. That is why the lamb is taken on the tenth and held four days. The whole street can see what is about to die.
Leviticus 17 is unambiguous. The blood that makes atonement must be brought to the altar, to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. Blood outside that place is bloodguilt. A death that occurs on a Roman cross, outside the Temple, outside the priesthood, outside the prescribed animal — that death cannot fulfill the verse. It stands outside the system entirely. Cortes knows this. He teaches it. And then he steps over it.
Leviticus 18 and 20 are equally clear. Human sacrifice is an abomination. The Torah never authorizes a man to function as the korban. The animals in Leviticus 1 through 7 and in chapter 16 are animals. Substituting a human for them inverts the entire category. It is not a fulfillment. It is a desecration.
And then there is the image. Exodus 20, Leviticus 19, Leviticus 26 — the same prohibition, repeated, reinforced, never softened.
No likeness of anything in the heavens, on the earth, or in the waters. You shall have no molten gods. No carved images. No standing stones. A lamb presented as the picture of Messiah, a man coming like a lamb to die for the sins of the world — this is a likeness made to be looked at, meditated upon, adored. It is the thing the commandment forbids, dressed in the language of redemption.
The Christian will reach for Abraham and Isaac. That reach fails.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, of blessed memory, showed that the Akedah is the Torah’s loudest no to human sacrifice. In a world where children were property, and the gods demanded them as payment, God stops the knife. He does not require what the nations require. He abhors it. The story is a polemic against patria potestas — the idea that a father owns his child and may dispose of him however he pleases.
Rabbi David Fohrman, in his lecture on Re’eh, draws the same line from Deuteronomy 12:31 — do not do this to Hashem your God; every abomination He hates they do for their gods, even burning their sons and daughters in fire. He is pointing back to the Akedah and saying: “That is what the nations do, and I will not have it.”
The Akedah is not a precedent for a man dying as a sin-offering. It is the Torah’s declaration that no man, no son, no human life, may be placed on the altar. The story ends with a ram caught in the thicket. The ram is the substitute. The son walks away. That is the point.
Cortes, as a Kohen, should know this. The kohanim were the ones who stood between the people and the altar. They were the ones who taught the difference between the clean and the unclean, the holy and the common. When a Kohen takes the altar’s most sacred function and assigns it to a man, when he takes the Second Saying’s most guarded prohibition and turns it into an object of devotion, he is not teaching Torah. He is teaching its inversion.
The prophet Ezekiel saw this coming. In chapter 44, God says to the kohanim who turned from Him: you have not kept charge of My holy things, you have set up your idols in My sanctuary. The charge is not new. It is ancient. And it falls on every Kohen who trades the altar for an image, the blood for a man, the covenant for a cross.
Cortes is not the first to do this. He will not be the last. But he does it with the title of Kohen on his lips, and that makes the violation heavier, not lighter. The kohanim were given the Torah to guard it. When they teach others to break it, the guard has become the thief.
— Hazan Gavriel ben David
Esnoga Beit HaShoavah, Amarillo, Texas




































