S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT TZAV

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei Shabbat

            The first section of Parashat Tzav discusses the mitzva known as terumat ha-deshen, which requires removing ashes from the altar each morning.  The Mishna in Masekhet Yoma (22a) describes the procedure by which it was decided which kohen would perform this ritual each day.  Originally, the Mishna relates, any kohen who wished to perform the terumat ha-deshen was allowed to do so, and if several kohanim wanted to perform it, they would race each other up the ramp to the altar.  The first kohen who reached the top of the altar won the privilege of performing this ritual.  This procedure continued, the Mishna relates, until one time a kohen knocked another kohen off the ramp, and that other kohen fell to the ground and suffered a broken leg.  It was then decided that a lottery would be conducted each morning to determine who would perform the terumat ha-deshen, rather than the run the risk of another injury.

            This unfortunate incident reflects the dangers of affording disproportionate emphasis to ritual at the expense of basic ethical behavior.  In several contexts the prophets condemn those people who were passionate about offering sacrifices in the Mikdash, but failed to show concern for others.  The kohen described in the Mishna quite obviously recognized the importance of the service in the Temple, and desired the privilege of performing the terumat ha-deshen ritual.  Unfortunately, he failed to afford this same level of importance to the far more basic value of care and concern for his fellow.  This disproportionate focus on ritual over ethics led him to commit a serious crime even as he sought to serve God in the Mikdash.

            This story should perhaps also serve as a warning about the potential dangers of religious zeal and passion.  Many sources point to the importance of serving God with enthusiasm, excitement and fervor, rather than serving robotically and without feeling.  However, this passion must be accompanied by careful thought and sound decision-making.  It is likely that the kohen described in the Mishna was so caught up in the excitement surrounding the Temple rituals that he did not exercise proper judgment.  His zeal led him to impulsivity and rash, uncalculated behavior.  We may assume that he did not make a conscious, calculated decision to shove his fellow kohen off the ramp so that he could reach the top first.  Rather, he acted on impulse, his rational faculties dulled by the intoxication of religious fervor.

            Exercising one’s emotions in the service of God is critical – but this must not entail the disabling of the intellect.  As in the tragic story told in the Mishna, thoughtless religious zeal can lead to very irreligious behavior.  The emotions must work in close cooperation with the mind as we endeavor to serve our Creator with excitement, fervor and sincere devotion.

Sunday

            After the Torah’s discussion in Parashat Tzav of the voluntary mincha offering, it writes, “This is the sacrifice of Aharon and his sons that they shall offer to the Lord on the day he is anointed: one-tenth an efa of flour, an eternal meal offering – half in the morning, and half in the evening” (6:13).  Rashi, based on the Gemara in Masekhet Menachot (51b), explains that the Torah refers here to two different sacrifices.  First, every kohen was required to bring a mincha offering on “the day he is anointed,” the first time he comes to the Mikdash to perform the avoda (ritual service).  In addition, this verse speaks of “an eternal meal offering” (“minchat tamid”), referring to a daily mincha offering which the kohen gadol was required to bring each day during his tenure as high priest.  Half the sacrifice was offered on the altar in the morning, and the other half in the afternoon.

            Inferring these two sacrifices from this verse appears to entail a stretched reading of the text.  The straightforward reading of the verse indicates that it speaks of only a single offering, not two offerings.  It seems that Chazal arrived at this reading due to the seeming inherent contradiction in the verse.  On the one hand, it speaks of an offering brought on the day of a kohen’s consecration, but then it mentions a “mincha tamid” – a mincha brought each day.  Chazal resolve this contradiction by asserting that it refers to two different offerings.  Furthermore, this verse speaks of an offering brought by all kohanim (“Aharon and his sons”), whereas two verses later the Torah indicates that the offering was brought only by the kohen gadol.  Chazal therefore explain that the Torah here refers to two different sacrifices, one which every kohen had to bring the first time he served in the Mikdash, and another which was offered only by the kohen gadol, every day.

            Still, the question remains, how can Chazal’s understanding accommodate the construction of this verse?

            Malbim explains, quite simply, that Chazal read the words “mincha tamid” as if it were written, “u-mincha tamid” (“and a daily mincha”), such that the verse speaks of two different sacrifices.

            Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha’kabbala, suggests reading the entire first half of the verse as the subject, as follows: “This sacrifice of Aharon and his sons, which they shall offer to the Lord on the day he is anointed, shall be an eternal meal offering…”  Thus, two different mincha sacrifices are mentioned in this verse.  (Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch explains similarly.)

            Rav David Tzvi Hoffman, in his commentary, suggests that in truth, the Torah here refers only to the minchat chavitin, the daily offering brought by the kohen gadol.  Already Ibn Ezra cites a theory that when the Torah writes “on the day he is anointed,” it really means, “from the day he is anointed.”  In other words, the Torah simply clarifies that this mincha tamid shall be observed each day from the day Aharon is anointed as kohen gadol.  Once the institution of the high priesthood is in place, the kohen gadol must offer this mincha sacrifice each day.  According to this reading, the Torah here does not make any reference at all to the sacrifice offered by a kohen on his first day of service.  This requirement, Rav Hoffman suggests, was perhaps taught through the oral tradition of halakha le-Moshe mi-Sinai, and is not actually introduced in this verse.

            Rav Hoffman’s reading gives rise to the question of how to explain the phrase, “Aharon and his sons” in this verse.  If, indeed, this verse speaks only of the daily offering brought by the kohen gadol, then it should mention only Aharon, and not his children, who served as ordinary kohanim and not as high priest.  Rav Hoffman suggests resolving this question by comparing this verse to the Torah’s description of the kohen gadol’s sin-offering on Yom Kippur, which atones for the kohen gadol and for his household (“ve-khiper ba’ado u-ve’ad beito” – Vayikra 16:6).  Perhaps, Rav Hoffman writes, the kohen gadol’s daily mincha offering similarly was brought also on behalf of the kohen gadol’s family, thus accounting for the mention of Aharon’s sons in the context of this offering.

Monday

            The first section of Parashat Tzav introduces the mitzva of terumat ha-deshen, which requires that a kohen go the altar each morning to remove some of the ashes that had collected since the previous morning.

            Several different insights have been suggested into the symbolic meaning and significance of this daily ritual.  One explanation, perhaps, is that the terumat ha-deshen symbolizes the responsibility that rests upon the nation’s leadership to address the difficult and unpleasant problems that arise over the course of Torah life.  This mitzva might serve as a reminder that as beautiful and fulfilling as Torah life generally is, we must recognize that it is not utopian.  Just as ashes collect on the altar, similarly, every Torah community has its share of “ashes,” difficult situations, challenges and controversies that need to be resolved.  Like the kohanim serving in the Mikdash, the nation’s leaders are frequently called upon to “clean up,” to get involved in messy and disturbing issues in order to maintain the beauty, serenity and vitality of Torah life.  Just as the kohanim must regularly sweep the altar to keep it clean, so must Am Yisrael’s leaders work to keep our nation “clean” by removing the “ashes,” by resolving the difficult problems that often arise, as unpleasant as this job often is.

            In the context of this mitzva, the Torah issues the command of “eish tamid,” the obligation upon the kohanim to ensure the constant presence of fire on the altar (6:5-6).  Why is this mitzva introduced specifically in the context of the terumat ha-deshen ritual?  What connection is there between the daily removal of ashes from the altar, and the obligation to ensure that the fire on the altar burns continuously?

            Rav Zalman Sorotzkin, in his Oznayim La-Torah, writes that the Torah here warns the kohanim to exercise care as they sweep the ashes off the altar, not to extinguish the flame in the process.  If they sweep too thoroughly, or carelessly, they may put out the fire as they clean.  The Torah therefore issued the command of “eish tamid” in this context, as a warning not to extinguish the fire while cleaning the altar.

            The Zohar comments that the command to maintain a constant presence of fire on the altar is symbolic of Am Yisrael’s obligation to always maintain the “fire” of Torah, and never allow it to be extinguished.  In light of Rav Sorotzkin’s comments, we might add that this command assumes particular importance while we’re busy “clearing away the ashes,” working to address the unsettling problems that arise over the course of Jewish life.  In the attempt to eliminate the “ashes” from our midst, some might be tempted to “extinguish the flame,” to reject the Torah altogether.  The “ashes” might disgust and disillusion some people to the point where they decide to simply “extinguish the flame” rather than allow the flame to continue burning and produce more ashes.  The Torah requires the kohanim to clear away the ashes each morning while leaving the fire intact.  We, too, must work to keep the fire of Torah burning despite the complications and challenges that this entails, despite the need to “remove the ashes” that collect as a result.  Although Torah life is not always smooth and easy, we nevertheless bear the obligation to keep the flame burning, and work to remove the “ashes” that inevitably, over the course of time, collect.

Tuesday

            The first half of Parashat Tzav reviews the various categories of sacrifices, which had already been introduced in Parashat Vayikra.  The difference between the two presentations, as noted by Rav David Tzvi Hoffman and others, is that in Parashat Vayikra the Torah speaks to the people offering the sacrifices, while in Parashat Tzav the Torah addresses the kohanim.  In Parashat Vayikra, God tells Moshe to speak to Benei Yisrael and tell them which sacrifices they have the option of offering, and which they are obligated to bring in different situations of wrongdoing.  Here, in Parashat Tzav, God tells Moshe to instruct the kohanim with regard to the different procedures required for the different kinds of sacrifices.

            This explains the different sequences in which the korbanot are arranged in the two sections.  In Parashat Vayikra, the Torah presents the different kinds of sacrifices based upon the circumstances in which they are brought.  It begins with the voluntary sacrifices (ola, mincha and shelamim) and then proceeds to the sacrifices that individuals must bring under certain circumstances (chatat, asham, oleh ve-yoreid).  From the perspective of the people, the sacrifices are divided according to the circumstances in which they are warranted.  In Parashat Tzav, by contrast, the korbanot are divided among the kodashei kodashim – the sacrifices of which the person bringing the offering does not partake – and the kodashei kalim – the shelamim sacrifice, most of whose meat is given to the individual offering the sacrifice.  Within the category of kodashei kodashim, the Torah begins with the ola, which is entirely burnt upon the altar, and then proceeds to the other sacrifices, most of whose meat was given to the kohanim.  This parasha is presented from the perspective of the kohanim, and the focus is thus on the procedure required once the offering is brought to the Mishkan, particularly what the kohen do with the meat of the sacrifice.

            It is interesting to note in this context that in discussing the korban ola here in Parashat Tzav, the Torah focuses specifically on the terumat ha-deshen, the obligation upon the kohanim to sweep the ashes from the altar.  When it comes to the other sacrifices, the Torah instructs which part of the sacrifice is placed on the altar, which is eaten by the kohanim and which is given to the person bringing the sacrifice.  Of course, this discussion would be irrelevant in the context of the ola, as the entire animal is burned on the altar.  It is revealing, however, that the corresponding ritual to the kohanim’s consumption of the meat when dealing with the ola is the removal of the ashes.  When a person brings a mincha, shelamim, chatat or asham, the kohen (after the slaughtering and sprinkling of the blood) participates in the process by partaking of the sacrificial meat; when a person brings an ola, the kohen’s role is to clean up the ashes.

            As Rav Amnon Bazak noted, this contrasting parallel reflects the fundamental difference between the ola and other sacrifices.  When it comes to the other sacrifices, the kohen functions as a partner of the Almighty, as it were.  The altar – representing God – receives its portion of the sacrifice, and the kohen is also given a share.  But when an ola is offered, the kohanim serve the role of custodians.  In this context, the kohanim are not God’s partners, but rather His servants and butlers.  They do not sit down at the table to eat with the King, but rather come to clean up after the meal.

            In this sense, the contrast between the ola and the other sacrifices signifies the dual nature of our relationship with the Almighty.  On the one hand, God has assigned us the role of “partners,” those with whom He has chosen to share the earth and the responsibility for building and developing the earth.  At the same time, however, we must always remain cognizant of our subordinate status, as humble servants of the King.  Although He has elevated us to the stature of “partners,” we still remain continuously and unconditionally subservient to His will and His commands.

Wednesday

            The opening verses of Parashat Tzav discuss the terumat ha-deshen ritual, which required that a kohen walk up to the altar each morning to remove the ashes that had collected.  The Torah writes that when a kohen performs this ritual, he must wear “mido vad” (“his linen garment”) and the mikhnesayim, the undergarments which kohanim wore underneath the other priestly vestments (6:3).  Rashi, Rav Saadia Gaon and other commentators interpret the word “mido” (“his garment”) as referring specifically to the kutonet, the long tunic worn by the kohanim when they officiated.

            The straightforward reading of the verse suggests that the terumat ha-deshen ritual required only two of the four priestly garments.  Although generally the avoda (ritual service) in the Mikdash had to be performed with all four garments, it appears, at first glance, that the terumat ha-deshen required only the kutonet and mikhnesayim.  This is, indeed, the position of Reish Lakish, who, as cited by the Gemara (Yoma 23b), held that the terumat ha-deshen did not have the formal status of an avoda, and thus did not require all four priestly garments.  Likewise, Reish Lakish understood that according to one view among the Tanna’im (Rabbi Eliezer), a ba’al mum (kohen with a physical deformity) was allowed to perform the terumat ha-deshen ritual, even though a ba’al mum is disqualified from performing avoda.  Since the terumat ha-deshen is not formally classified as an avoda, Reish Lakish asserted, it is possible to allow a ba’al mum to perform this ritual.

            Rabbi Yochanan, however, disagreed, and maintained that the terumat ha-deshen constitutes a full-fledged avoda.  As such, it requires all four priestly vestments, and according to all views it may not be performed by a ba’al mum.  (Rabbi Yochanan understood that Rabbi Eliezer allowed a ba’al mum to perform hotza’at ha-deshen – removing the ashes from the Temple courtyard – but not terumat ha-deshen – removing ashes from the altar.)  Of course, the question then arises as to why, according to Rabbi Yochanan, the Torah mentions only the kutonet and mikhnesayim, if in truth the kohen must also wear the other two garments (the sash and the turban).  The Gemara explains that the Torah specified the kutonet and mikhnesayim to introduce two halakhot concerning these garments that are not clarified elsewhere in the Torah.  The phrase “mido” used in reference to the kutonet alludes to the word “midato” (“his size”), indicating that the kutonet must properly fit the kohen.  And the phrase, “he shall wear linen pants on his flesh” instructs that the mikhnesayim must be the first garments donned by the kohen when he prepares for the avoda. 

            In any event, whereas Reish Lakish held that the kohen wears only the kutonet and the mikhnesayim when performing the terumat ha-deshen, Rabbi Yochanan maintained that he must wear all four garments, just as he must when performing other rituals in the Temple.

            Interestingly, Targum Onkelos, in his translation of this verse, translates the word “mido” as “levushin” (“garments”).  He apparently understood this word as referring not to any one particular garment worn by the kohanim, but rather as a generic term that denotes all the priestly garments.  This interpretation follows neither the view of Rabbi Yochanan nor that of Reish Lakish.  Recall that they both interpreted “mido” as referring specifically to the kutonet, and their debate revolved around the question of whether the Torah’s specification of the kutonet and mikhnesayim meant that the kohen did not need to wear the other two garments.  According to Targum Onkelos, however, it seems that “mido” refers to all the priestly garments.  Malbim also presents this interpretation of the word “mido,” but he surprisingly attributes this reading to Rabbi Yochanan.  As Rav Eliezer Lipman Lichtenstein notes in his Sheim Olam (Warsaw, 1877), the Gemara clearly indicates that even Rabbi Yochanan interpreted “mido” as referring to the kutonet, as discussed.  It thus seems difficult to understand how the Malbim could ascribe to Rabbi Yochanan the interpretation of “mido” as a generic reference to the priestly garments.

Thursday

            We find in Parashat Tzav the mitzva of notar, which requires burning sacrificial meat once the final time for its consumption has passed.  The meat of standard shelamim sacrifices, for example, may be eaten until sundown on the day after it was offered.  If the sacrifice was offered upon the altar on Sunday, then its meat was permissible until sundown on Monday.  Any meat that was not eaten by that time had to be burned on Tuesday (“ba-yom ha-shelishi ba-eish yisareif” – 7:17).

            The Sefer Ha-chinukh (138) suggests two reasons underlying this obligation. First, he writes, the obligation to burn notar serves to preserve the dignity of the sacrificial meat.  Meat naturally decays over the course of time, and the Torah therefore commanded that leftover meat be burned before it becomes spoiled and undignified, which would be denigrating to the sacrifice.  The Sefer Ha-chinukh then adds that the obligation of notar teaches the importance of trusting in God’s ability to provide us with our needs:

This matter contains an allusion to trust in God…that a person should not "strangle himself" excessively with regard to food by putting it away for the following day, seeing that the Almighty commands that we utterly destroy the sacred meat once its time has passed, and He did not wish for any creature – neither human nor animal – to derive benefit from it after it [the final time] has passed.

While the Torah certainly urges us to take personal responsibility in securing a livelihood and planning for the future, this must be tempered by a sense of confidence in God.  The Torah commanded burning leftover sacrificial meat to convey the message of moderation in saving for the future.  We are certainly allowed to “strangle ourselves” by putting away some of our assets for later, but we are discouraged from doing so “excessively,” as we should instead trust in God’s ability to care for us and sustain us.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda, suggests a different, and surprisingly simple, reason for the obligation to burn notar.  Namely, it is unbecoming to have something loathsome in one’s possession.  The Torah requires one to destroy sacrificial meat before it becomes repulsive as a courtesy and out of sensitivity to other people who might otherwise encounter it.  Chazal elsewhere speak of a prohibition against acting repulsively in the presence of others.  In a similar vein, perhaps, the Torah required destroying sacrificial meat before it spoils so as not to expose others to the unbecoming sight and odor of rotten meat.

            Of course, the Torah issued this prohibition only in the context of sacrifices; there is no specific prohibition against having spoiled food in one’s possession.  Perhaps, it is particularly when dealing with the realm of kedusha that the Torah raised the standard of sensitivity in this regard, to teach the importance of ensuring that religious observance appears becoming and dignified to others.  While one of course must always avoid acting in a manner that others may find repulsive, it is especially critical to avoid such conduct when involving oneself in spiritual matters.  We must endeavor to expose our fellow Jews to the beauty and serenity of Torah life, and must therefore ensure that none of our “sacrifices” appear “spoiled” and undignified.

Friday

            In the haftara for Shabbat Hagadol, we read God’s admonition through the prophet Malakhi exhorting the people of the time to fulfill the obligations of ma’aser – the mandatory tithes: “Bring all the tithes to the treasure house so that there is food in My home, and test Me through this…whether I will open for you the floodgates of the sky and pour down unlimited blessing for you” (Malakhi 3:10).

            It appears from this verse that God invites the Jews of the time to “challenge” Him through their payment of ma’aser.  They had been reluctant to pay their dues to the kohanim and Leviyim out of concern of squandering their limited resources.  God therefore invites them to “test” him by paying the ma’aser and seeing His response.  The Almighty guarantees to compensate and reward the people for their expenditure by opening the “floodgates” of blessing of prosperity.

            On the basis of this verse, the Gemara in Masekhet Ta’anit (9a) famously establishes that it is permissible to “test” God through the payment of ma’aser.  Ordinarily, it is forbidden to pose a “test” to the Almighty by performing a mitzva with the specific intent of seeing how one will be rewarded.  The Torah admonishes in Sefer Devarim (6:16), “Do not test the Lord your God,” a prohibition which includes checking to see whether our observance of mitzvot yields the rewards we desire (see, for example, Sefer Ha-chinukh 425).  We are to perform all mitzvot and abstain from wrongdoing with the firm belief and conviction that it is to our ultimate benefit, regardless of whether we actually see any tangible effects of our compliance with the Torah’s laws.  But when it comes to ma’aser, the Gemara writes, it is permissible to “test” God, as God Himself declared – “and test Me through this…whether I will open for you the floodgates of the sky.”  One may therefore give tithes with the intention of checking to see whether or not God will grant him financial reward.

            Why does the mitzva of ma’aser differ from all other mitzvot in this regard?

            The Perisha (Y.D. 247), based on the Maharshal (commentary to the Semag, lo ta’aseh 4), writes that, quite simply, God Himself gave His personal guarantee to financially reward those who are meticulous with regard to the laws of ma’aser.  When it comes to other mitzvot, we are not promised to be rewarded through financial prosperity, and we may therefore not “test” God to determine His ability to reward mitzva observance.  With regard to ma’aser, however, He made an explicit guarantee and even invited us to “put Him to the test.”

            The Tur, in his introduction to the laws of charity (Y.D. 247), extends the Gemara’s ruling to the mitzva of tzedaka.  In his view, it is permissible to “test” the Almighty through any charitable donation, and not merely through the specific mitzva of the mandatory tithing of agricultural produce.  The Rema cites this ruling of the Tur (Y.D. 247:4).  The Beit Yosef, however, disputes the Tur’s position, noting that the Gemara seems to restrict this extraordinary provision specifically to the area of ma’aser.  This is also the position of Rabbenu Yona, in his Sha’arei Teshuva.

            Interestingly, the Rambam makes no mention at all of a provision allowing one to “test” God any under circumstances, even with regard to the mitzva of ma’aser.  The Rambam’s omission of this halakha is likely what led the Meiri – a staunch and loyal adherent of the Rambam’s rulings – to suggest a different interpretation of the Gemara’s comments.  In his commentary to Masekhet Ta’anit, the Meiri writes that it is forbidden to “test” the Almighty even with regard to ma’aser.  What the Gemara meant, he claims, is simply that a person can feel confident when giving the required tithes that he will be repaid in full.  Under no circumstances, however, may a person ever put God to the test and demand that he be repaid.  According to the Meiri, and presumably the Rambam, the verse in Malakhi and the Gemara’s comment express God’s guarantee to reward a person in full for his payment of ma’aser, but should not be taken literally as allowing a person to put God to the test.