SALT FOR PARASHAT TZAV

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI

            Toward the beginning of Parashat Tzav (6:5), the Torah presents the halakha requiring that a fire constantly burn on the mizbach ha-ola, the altar in the Temple courtyard.  The Torah here establishes both a mitzvat asei (affirmative command) to ensure the constant presence of fire, as well as a mitzvat lo ta’aseh (prohibition) forbidding extinguishing the fire.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Zevachim (91b) discusses this mitzva in the context of a law stated by Shemuel regarding a voluntary wine offering.  Shemuel taught that when a person made such an offering, he would sprinkle some wine on the altar.  The Gemara questioned this halakha, noting that the wine would extinguish part of the flame, thus violating the prohibition introduced here in Parashat Tzav.  One answer proposed in defense of Shemuel’s halakha is that this issue hinges on a famous debate regarding davar she-eino mitkavein – an act that unintentionally results in a violation.  The question of davar she-eino mitkavein arises more commonly in the context of the Shabbat laws, but it will affect the situation of wine offerings, as well.  According to Rabbi Yehuda, who forbids performing such an act, it would indeed be forbidden to sprinkle wine on the altar, as this would result in the extinguishing of the flame.  Rabbi Shimon, however, rules leniently in cases of davar she-eino mitkavein, and would therefore allow sprinkling the wine, since one’s intent is to offer wine on the altar, and not to extinguish the flame.  The Gemara thus proposes that Shemuel stated his halakha in accordance with Rabbi Shimon’s view, who allows performing an act that would result in a violation, if this is not the individual’s intent.

            Many Rishonim and Acharonim raised the question of how to reconcile the Gemara’s discussion with other passages in the Talmud, which impose an important restriction on Rabbi Shimon’s ruling.  In numerous contexts (including Shabbat 103a), the Gemara famously asserts that Rabbi Shimon allows a davar she-eino mitkavein only if the forbidden result might occur.  If, however, the person’s act will definitely result in the violation (“pesik reishei ve-lo yamut”), then Rabbi Shimon forbids the action.  Even though one does not intend to commit the violation, he may not perform the action if it will inevitably yield this result.  Seemingly, pouring wine on the altar is certain to result in the extinguishing of some of the fire on the altar, and therefore even Rabbi Shimon should forbid this action.

            Some Rishonim, including Rashi (in his commentary to Masekhet Zevachim), explain that Shemuel required sprinkling small drops of wine, which might possibly extinguish part of the flame, but will not necessarily yield this result.  As such, we may apply Rabbi Shimon’s general ruling about davar she-eino mitkavein, since the violation is only a possible result of the sprinkling, and not a certain outcome.

            Tosefot, in numerous contexts, cite the famous ruling of the Arukh that in some situations, Rabbi Shimon allows a davar she-eino mitkavein even if the violation will certainly result from the act.  Namely, if the individual has no interest at all in the outcome, and derives no benefit from it at all (“lo nicha lei”), then the act is permissible despite the inevitable result.  Rabbi Shimon would therefore allow sprinkling wine on the altar even if this would inevitably extinguish part of the flame, since the individual clearly has no interest whatsoever in this outcome.

            The Sefat Emet (Yoma 21b) suggests a particularly novel explanation for why the sprinkling of wine on the altar qualifies as a davar she-eino mitkavein.  The Gemara in Masekhet Yoma tells that the fire that burned on the altar originated from two sources.  Fire descended upon the altar from the heavens, but the Torah nevertheless required that the kohanim kindle a flame on the altar, so that Benei Yisrael would have a share in the fire, so-to-speak.  The heavenly fire on the altar, the Gemara describes, was of a miraculous nature, and one of its supernatural properties was the fact that it would consume even liquid, rather than be extinguished by liquid.  Thus, if one sprinkles wine over the fire on the altar, it is uncertain whether this act will result in the extinguishing of a flame.  For if it falls upon heavenly fire, it will not extinguish the flame; extinguishing will occur only if it falls on fire kindled by the kohanim.  Since one has no way of knowing the origin of any part of the fire on the altar, sprinkling wine on the altar will always be, by definition, a situation of only the possibility of a violation, rather than an inevitable violation, and would thus be permissible according to Rabbi Shimon.

SUNDAY

            Yesterday, we discussed the prohibition introduced in Parashat Tzav (6:5) against extinguishing the flame on the altar.  As we saw, the Gemara in Masekhet Zevachim (91b) raised the question concerning voluntary wine offerings, which, according to Shemuel, would be sprinkled on the altar, which would, in all likelihood, extinguish at least part of the flame.  The Gemara asserts that sprinkling is nevertheless permissible according to the view of Rabbi Shimon, who allows performing a davar she-eino mitkavein – an action that might result in an unintentional violation.

            A number of Acharonim questioned the Gemara’s conclusion in light of the fact that extinguishing the fire entails not only a prohibition, but also a mitzvat asei (an affirmative command).  The Rambam, in his listing of the 613 Biblical commands, lists both a prohibition (mitzvat lo ta’aseh) against extinguishing the fire on the altar (lo ta’aseh 81), and an affirmative command to maintain the flame on the altar (asei 29).  Seemingly, the concept of davar she-eino mitkavein, which allows committing an act despite the violation that it may cause, applies only to mitzvot lo ta’aseh – prohibitions – but not mitzvot asei – affirmative commands.  If the resulting violation is unintentional, then we may dissociate it from the act the person performed, and say that he did not commit a violation.  However, once the Torah imposes a mitzvat asei, an obligation to maintain a fire upon the altar, then one is required to refrain from any activity that may extinguish the flame.  Therefore, sprinkling wine on the altar, which may extinguish the flame, should be forbidden even if the extinguishing is unintentional.

            The answer, as cited in the name of the work Kaba De-kashyeta, lies in a clear distinction between the mitzvat asei and mitzvat lo ta’aseh with regard to the flame on the altar.  The prohibition against extinguishing forbids extinguishing any part of the flame, whereas the affirmative command requires ensuring the presence of a flame on the altar.  In fact, according to the Sefer Ha-chinukh (asei 132), a separate fire was kept on the altar for the purpose of fulfilling the mitzvat asei of maintaining a flame, even if the other fires have all been extinguished.  One who extinguishes part of the fire on the altar has transgressed the mitzvat lo ta’aseh, but has not neglected the mitzvat asei, as some fire still remains.  Thus, so long as the person sprinkling the wine ensures to keep a distance from one part of the flame, he does not transgress the mitzvat asei, as he does not extinguish all the fire on the altar.

MONDAY

            Parashat Tzav begins with God’s commandment to Moshe to present the laws of the sacrifices to the kohanim.  He instructs Moshe, “Command Aharon and his sons, saying: This is the procedure for the burnt-offering…”  Rashi cites an ambiguous passage from Torat Kohanim which explains the word tzav (“command”) in this verse as “an expression of urging [ziruz], immediately and for all time.”  The term tzav was understood by Chazal as an expression used in contexts requiring particular emphasis and urging, regarding mitzvot which people may otherwise approach with laxity.  Rabbi Shimon, as cited in Torat Kohanim, adds, “The verse must especially urge in a situation of financial loss.”  Meaning, in situations where a financial loss is involved, the Torah adds the word tzav for added emphasis.

            Rav Yissachar Frand commented that Chazal here point to the korban ola as the paradigm of a mitzva that entails chisaron kis – financial loss.  Although many mitzvot require expenditures of one kind or another, the ola offering is unique in that it produced no visible or tangible result.  A person who spends hard earned money on Yom Tov expenses, for example, can receive satisfaction from the enjoyable experience of a holiday spent with family and friends.  The funds invested in a child’s education yield dividends as the child grows and matures, bringing pride to the family.  In the times of the Mikdash, other sacrifices were not necessarily more costly than the ola, but at least the kohanim and, in some cases, the individual himself, partook of its meat.  The ola, however, went up in smoke.  Nothing remained.  After investing considerable time, money and efforts purchasing and bringing the animal to the Mikdash, the individual could not see any result or product of this investment.  Hence, as Rabbi Shimon noted, the Torah had to employ the term tzav, an expression of ziruz, urging people to undertake this measure.  Even though it yields no visible result, its results are no less meaningful than those of other mitzvot.

            The korban ola thus reminds us to acknowledge the intrinsic value and importance of mitzvot even when we cannot point to any visible, tangible effect.  Expending time and resources in the service of the Almighty is intrinsically meaningful regardless of whether it produces anything that can be experienced with our physical senses.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Sukka (56b) tells of the apostate Miriam bat Bilga, who married a Greek nobleman and joined him when he and his comrades entered and defiled the Beit Ha-mikdash.  Upon entering, Miriam kicked the altar, derisively calling it lukos (“wolf”), and cried, “How much long will you consume Israel’s money!”  Miriam resented the financial expense entailed by the Temple rituals, failing to see any benefit of the service for the Jewish people or the world.

            The term tzav loudly declares that all the Torah’s mitzvot are immensely valuable – and, in fact invaluable – and are a most worthwhile cause in which to invest.

            (It should be noted, in the interest of accuracy, that the hide of the animal brought as an ola was given to the officiating kohen, so some tangible benefit was indeed extracted from the sacrifice.)

TUESDAY

            Yesterday, we looked at an ambiguous comment that Rashi cites from Torat Kohanim concerning the beginning of Parashat Tzav.  Torat Kohanim interprets the word “tzav” as an expression of ziruz – urging and encouraging people to do something that they would otherwise treat with laxity or neglect.  This term is used here in Parashat Tzav, Torat Kohanim proceeds to explain, because the Torah “must especially urge in a situation of financial loss.”  Many writers have struggled to identify the “financial loss” to which Torat Kohanim refers, and how this relates to the context of this verse at the beginning of Parashat Tzav.

            Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson, in his Divrei Shaul (Mahadura Chamisha’a), suggests that Chazal refer here to the requirement to maintain a constant flame on the altar, which the Torah discusses in this section.  In the context of the ola sacrifice, the Torah writes that sacrifices should be burned on the altar throughout the night, and the kohanim were therefore to place large amounts of wood on the altar each day to sustain the flame.  The Gemara teaches (Yoma 21b) that in truth, a constant flame would have burned on the altar even without the daily placement of wood.  A miraculous, heavenly fire descended upon the altar and remained there, without ever being extinguished.  Nevertheless, the Torah requires the kohanim in the Temple to maintain a natural flame on the altar, as well, in addition to the heavenly fire that burned at all times.

            The Divrei Shaul thus suggests that when Torat Kohanim speaks here of chisaron kis (“financial loss”), it refers to the seemingly superfluous addition of wood each day.  Benei Yisrael might have considered it wasteful to burn so much wood to sustain a flame that could exist on its own.  Why go through the trouble and incur this expense if God in any event miraculously sustains the fire on the altar?  The Torah therefore employed the word “tzav” to urge Benei Yisrael not to think along these lines, and to comply with the command to provide the altar with firewood each and every day.

            As the Divrei Shaul proceeds to explain, the heavenly and earthly fires on the altar symbolize the bilateral process of the human being’s relationship with God.  The Almighty always provides “fire,” He will always make Himself available to the individual, but a person must nevertheless take initiative and exert effort for this relationship to be sustained.  Both God and the human being must provide the “fuel” for this bond to last.

            Some people refuse to make sacrifices to sustain their relationship with God, and rely instead on the “heavenly fire,” expecting God to descend unilaterally into their lives.  The Torah emphasizes that our connection to the Almighty entails a degree of chisaron kis, an element of sacrifice.  The altar, the symbol of Am Yisrael’s relationship to God, requires both heavenly and human fires.  We cannot expect to make God a meaningful part of our lives without providing the “wood,” without making some sort of sacrifice.  Only when we provide our share of the “fire” does the altar become complete, signifying the close connection between the Almighty and His nation.

WEDNESDAY

            In the context of its discussion of the korban mincha (meal offering), the Torah writes in Parashat Tzav (6:13) that the kohanim must themselves bring this offering “on the day he is anointed.”  Two verses later, the Torah writes that the kohen gadol brings this offering as a “chok olam” – “eternal statute.”  Rashi explains that an ordinary kohen brings a mincha offering on the day he is inducted into the service in the Mikdash, and it is to this offering that the Torah refers in the first verse.  In the second verse, the Torah speaks of a special mincha offering that the kohen gadol offers each day.

            There is much room for thought regarding the meaning and significance of these sacrifices required of the kohanim.  Most obviously, perhaps, as the mincha was the offering normally brought by the poor, who could not afford an animal sacrifice, we might say that the Torah sought to humble the kohanim by requiring them, at least upon beginning their service, to bring a poor man’s sacrifice.  The kohen gadol, who held the most prestigious post, brought this offering twice each day as an ongoing reminder of his condition of “poverty” in God’s presence.

            Rav Dov Weinberger, in his Shemen Ha-tov, adds another insight into this system whereby the kohen gadol offers each day the sacrifice brought by other kohanim at their induction.  Quite simply, the kohen gadol is expected to view each day as his first, as the day of his induction into the priesthood.  While ordinary kohanim are allowed to experience only a single “inauguration,” the Torah demands of the kohen gadol that he sense the enthusiasm and fervor of his induction each and every day he serves in this position.  Consequently, he offers his induction offering each and every day – because each and every day is the day of his induction.

            The kohen gadol serves as a model of avodat Hashem that is not imposed upon other members of the nation, but represents in the extreme what all Benei Yisrael are to practice in moderation.  Thus, for example, while ordinary members of the nation are required to mourn the loss of their loved ones, the kohen gadol was forbidden from observing mourning upon a relative’s death.  His role and position as “chief attendant” in God’s Temple, who lives constantly in the presence of God, precluded the possibility of grief and bereavement.  The joy of living in the divine presence was to overshadow any feelings of personal loss.  Of course, this was not expected of anyone else.  However, this extreme measure conveys a message that certainly applies to all Benei Yisrael, namely, that the privilege of serving the Almighty should help a person keep perspective in the face of hardships.  Life’s bumps become far less unsettling once a person views himself as a loyal servant of God and feels privileged to hold this position.

            The same may be said about the message that emerges from the kohen gadol’s daily mincha offering.  As the highest-ranking spiritual figure in the nation, he is required to genuinely approach each day as his first day on the job.  While this standard may likely be beyond the grasp of the rest of the nation, it sets an example that we are all to follow, albeit in moderation.  It demonstrates the kind of enthusiasm we should all feel toward our own avoda, the vigor with which we should approach each day that we are privileged to live in God’s service.  Even if we do not feel every morning as though we are “inducted” that day, we can, at least on some level, recognize the privilege we have been granted to spend yet another in the individual “Batei Mikdash” that our lives are meant to be.

David Silverberg

THURSDAY

            Parashat Tzav begins with the mitzva of terumat ha-deshen, the daily removal of ashes from the altar by the officiating kohen.  This work was the first ritual performed in the Mikdash each day, in the early morning hours, before the offering of any sacrifices, the kindling of the menora and the offering of incense.

            A number of different ideas have been proposed to explain the underlying significance of this mitzva.  The fact that the daily regimen in the Mikdash began with this ritual indicated to many writers that in addition to the obvious purpose of maintaining cleanliness, terumat ha-deshen also conveyed a deeper message.  Most commonly, perhaps, it has been suggested that the Torah sought to humble the kohen by requiring him to perform simple, undignified custodial work as he begins his day of service in the Temple.  (Another oft-quoted approach is given by Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in his Torah commentary.)

            Rav Meir Goldwicht (www.yutorah.org/_shiurim/Rav Goldwicht Tzav.pdf), however, suggested that the act of removing ashes symbolizes the primary prerequisite to hashra’at ha-Shekhina – the resting of the divine presence among Benei Yisrael, which many consider the main objective of the Beit Ha-mikdash.  Removing ashes involved making space, clearing away an area on the altar’s surface.  In order for the Shekhina to be present among the Jewish people, and in any given individual’s life, they, or he, must clear away space for the Shekhina.  Rav Goldwicht illustrates this point by drawing a compelling analogy to human relationships, particularly marriage.  Marriage means bringing somebody else into one’s life, which necessarily means making space for somebody else, lowering one’s personal expectations and demands so that he can share his life with another person.

            For good reason, Chazal commented that the Shekhina resides in the home of a harmonious marriage.  If the husband and wife have mastered the art of “making space,” of allowing themselves less so that they can give to one another, then they can also live spiritual lives, lives devoted to avodat Hashem.

            The Temple service began with siluk ha-deshen – removing the ashes from the altar – in order to symbolize the centrality of “siluk” in the experience of hashra’at ha-Shekhina.  God cannot enter our lives if we do not make space for Him.

            Rav Goldwicht further suggested that this theme may underlie the Mishna’s famous comment (Avot 5:5) that during the times of the Temple, “omedim tzefufim u-mishtachavim revachim” – the people in the Temple courtyard would “stand crowded but bow comfortably.”  The plain meaning is that despite the crowded conditions in the Temple courtyard when the nation visited the Mikdash, they miraculously had enough room to comfortably bow on the ground.  Additionally, however, this miracle might allude to the theme of “making space” described above.  When people crowd in the Temple, and they are prepared to confine themselves to a cramped space in consideration of others, then “mishtachavim revachim” – everyone is able to serve God properly.  The more we train ourselves to demand less for ourselves and offer more to others, the more meaningfully we can bring the Shekhina into our lives and commit ourselves to sincere, lifelong avodat Hashem.

David Silverberg

FRIDAY

            As we mentioned earlier this week, Parashat Tzav presents the mitzva of minchat chavitin, the special mincha (meal) offering brought by a kohen.  An ordinary kohen must bring this offering on the day of his formal induction into the kehuna, whereas the kohen gadol offered this mincha each day during his term as high priest.

            The Gemara in Masekhet Menachot (78a) establishes that when a kohen is formally inducted as a kohen gadol, he must bring two mincha sacrifices: one as the daily offering required of a kohen gadol, and another as an induction offering, commemorating his assumption of the special duties of the high priesthood.  Furthermore, the Gemara adds, if this kohen had never before officiated in the Mikdash as a kohen, then he must bring a third offering, as well, commemorating his induction into the general realm of the kehuna.  He thus brings one offering as the daily mincha of the kohen gadol, and two induction offerings – commemorating his induction as both a kohen and as a kohen gadol.

The Talmud Yerushalmi (Shekalim chapter 7), by contrast, held that a kohen gadol in this case does not require a second induction offering.  It suffices for him to bring the mincha offering for the occasion of his induction into the high priesthood, and no separate offering is needed for his initiation into the general order of kehuna.

            The Or Samei’ach (Hilkhot Kelei Ha-mikdash 5:16) comments that the Bavli and the Yerushalmi debate the question of whether or not the kohen gadol has a dual status.  According to the Talmud Yerushalmi, a kohen who becomes a kohen gadol is divested of his status as a regular kohen.  He enters an entirely new category and takes on a fundamentally different status.  As such, he needs only a single offering, signifying his entry into the high priesthood.  He does not require a separate offering marking his induction into the realm of standard kehuna because, quite simply, he does not enter this realm at all.  The Talmud Bavli, by contrast, maintains that a kohen gadol is both a regular kohen and a kohen gadol, and thus in the case described the kohen must bring two separate induction offerings.

            Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his Rinat Yitzchak, suggests that in truth, even the Bavli might view the kohen gadol as possessing only a single status, and as having left the order of ordinary kohanim.  The Bavli, Rav Sorotzkin contends, likely requires a new kohen gadol in this case to offer two induction offerings for a separate reason.  As the Rambam codifies (Hilkhot Kelei Ha-mikdash 5:16), a kohen may not perform the avoda (rituals) in the Temple before bringing the mincha offering at his induction, and a kohen gadol similarly may not perform the rituals assigned specifically to the high priest before bringing an induction offering.  Hence, in the case of a kohen who has never performed the avoda and now assumes the position of kohen gadol, he must bring two induction offerings despite the fact that he does not enter the order of standard kohanim.  Quite simply, he must bring one offering to allow him to perform the service of ordinary kohanim, and an additional offering to allow him to perform the rituals assigned to the kohen gadol.  Hence, regardless of the question surrounding his personal status, he must bring two induction offerings as preparation for the two kinds of avoda he will be performing in the Temple.

David Silverberg