March 18th: Tzav
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Chapter 8 of Leviticus details the anointing of the Tabernacle and its furnishings and the anointing of Aaron and his sons as priests. Sprinkling these things and these people with God’s holy oil sets them apart for the purpose of connecting Heaven and Earth—of bringing the Infinity of God to the finite lives of the people. With everything and everyone consecrated, the stage is set for the encounters that are the purpose of worship. Usual worship will involve the Kohanim / Priests lighting the sacrificial fires, but this first sacrifice invokes a miracle. As we shall read next week, “Moses and Aaron went inside the Tent of Meeting. When they came out, they blessed the people; and the Presence of the Lord appeared to all the people. Fire came forth from before the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and the fat parts on the altar. And all the people saw, and shouted, and fell on their faces.” (Leviticus 9.23-24)
One could focus on the importance and status of Aaron and his sons, but the lesson they are to learn is that their anointing is for a purpose—a holy purpose. They are dedicated for their whole lives to the connection between God and the Israelite people. Whatever status may attach is much less important than their tasks and their focus (kavannah).
Their election as priests is akin to our election as God’s “Chosen People.” As the Lord explains just it immediately before speaking the Ten Commandments, “If you will obey Me faithfully and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples. Indeed, all the earth is Mine, but you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” (Exodus 19.5-6)
It is clearly good to be God’s Chosen People, but what does this status mean? Some have said that our election makes us innately better than other people—that our souls have a moral and spiritual quality that others lack. Some have suggested that our chosen-ness grants us special privileges—inasmuch as we are “relatives of the Boss.” Others, however, have been aghast at the prospect of God liking some humans more than others—and on the havoc such a thought can wreak on the human psyche. They prefer to focus on the mission: we were and are chosen for the purpose of teaching God’s Torah to the world.
This teaching can take many forms. Sometimes, we strive to be moral exemplars, choosing honor and truth over personal advantage. As the Psalmist explains, “Who shall dwell on God’s holy mountain?...One who does what is right and heartfully acknowledges the truth…who stands by an oath even when it proves to be difficult.” (Psalm 15). Other times, we focus on spiritual purity, withdrawing from a world that is too corrupting—too contagious. Sometimes, as in our celebration of Purim, we show how self-defense is both a necessity and a right. As Hillel used to say, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” (Pirke Avot 1.14) Other times, we inspire others to take the lessons of the Scriptures to heart and work on God’s long-term project of Tikkun Olam. As Hillel used to counsel in that same lesson, “But, if I am only for myself, what am I?”
Sometimes, however, our mission is to maintain our faith and morality in the midst of great difficulty. We may not choose the vicissitudes of life that assault us, but, in those difficult situations, we have choices about maintaining our humanity and bearing witness to the messages of Torah. In the midst of terrible and heartbreaking events, holiness and the beauteous possibilities of humanity can nonetheless shine through.
This process can be understood through a story I recently heard from my cousin, Rabbi Fred Davidow of Philadelphia. (Originally from Greenville, Mississippi, he too found his way North.) The source of the story is unknown—and probably not Jewish, but it is Biblically based and points in a universal way to the value of preserving and striving for menschlikeit. The text is from the Prophet Malachi (3.3), “God shall sit like a smelter and purger of silver and shall purify the descendants of Levi…”
There was once a group of women in a Bible study working on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came the verse just cited: “God will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver…” This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study.
The woman called up a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.
As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest in order to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that God sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.
She asked the silversmith, “Is it true that you have to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver is being refined?” The man answered, “Yes, I not only have to sit here holding the silver, but I also have to keep my eye on the silver the entire time it is in the fire. If the silver were left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.”
The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, “How do you know when the silver is fully refined? He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy. It’s finished when I can see my image in it.”
As Aaron and his family shall soon learn, the fire of God is inspiring and illuminating but also purging. Holiness can be found in moments of elation and in the dark times that try our souls. Through it all, the goal is for us to bring forth the Divinity that God knows is within—the Divinity that God places in each one of us.