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Yeshivat Har Etzion

PARASHAT TZAV

By Rav David Silverberg

            The first half of Parashat Tzav goes through the various categories of korbanot and mentions the basic halakhot relevant to them.  The Torah introduces each section with the expression, "Ve-zot torat ha-" – "This is the law for the" respective sacrifice, be it the ola (6:2), the mincha (6:7), the chatat (6:18), asham (7:1) or shelamim (7:11).  The Gemara towards the end of Masekhet Menachot (110a) famously advances a homiletic interpretation of this phrase, whereby the word torah does not mean "law" or "procedure" (as it presumably means according to the peshat, or straightforward level of interpretation), but rather to study.  These verses intend to equate the torah, the study, of the various sacrifices with the sacrifices themselves; the Gemara thus concludes that "whoever occupies himself in the laws of the chatat [sin-offering] is considered as having offered a chatat."

            On the basis of this Gemara, the Tur (O.C. 1) writes that every morning one should recite the sections in the Torah from Parashat Tzav presenting the laws of the various sacrifices.  After each section, one should recite a brief "yehi ratzon" prayer, asking that his recitation indeed be accepted by God as if he had actually offered the given korban.  However, with regard to the yehi ratzon prayer, the Tur distinguishes between the voluntary sacrifices – ola, mincha and shelamim – and the obligatory sin-offerings – chatat and asham.  Since one cannot voluntary bring a chatat or asham, one cannot ask God to accept his recitation of the given section as if he had offered a korban.  Therefore, after reciting the sections dealing with the chatat and asham one does not, according to the Tur, then recite the yehi ratzon declaration.

            The Beit Yosef raises the obvious question of why one recites these two sections at all.  If the purpose of reciting the korbanot is to be considered as having actually offered the sacrifice, then, since the chatat and asham offerings are not brought voluntarily, there seems to be no purpose in reciting these sections unless one knows with certainty that he owes a korban for a sin that he had committed.  The Beit Yosef's answer is somewhat ambiguous:

Certainly the reading of the chatat section achieves some atonement [mekhaperet ketzat] if one committed a sin for which he is obliged [to bring] a chatat.  And even if he does not know whether he committed [this kind of] sin, he should read [this section] out of doubt, and if he had sinned it atones for him, and if he had not sinned, he will be given reward as if he read from the Torah.

The Beit Yosef appears to claim, very simply, that one reads these sections mi-safek, out of doubt, and if he indeed committed a sin requiring this sacrifice he will earn atonement as if he had offered this sacrifice.  But if so, then how has he answered his question against the Tur?  Why shouldn't one recite the yehi ratzon prayer in case he indeed required a sin-offering?  Furthermore, why did the Beit Yosef introduce his answer by saying that the recitation of this section "achieves some" – or, more precisely, "a little bit of" – atonement?  What does this mean, and how does this relate to his answer?

            Rav Tzvi Pesach Frank, in his Har Tzvi (O.C. 1), explains that in posing his question against the Tur, the Beit Yosef had in mind as well a question raised by others concerning the value of reading the chatat section.  The korban chatat is required when one discovers – with certainty – that he had inadvertently committed a sin for which intentional violation renders one liable to karet (eternal excision).  By definition, it cannot be offered "out of doubt"; it is required only when one knows with certainty that he had unintentionally committed a transgression.  It seems difficult, then, that the Tur would advise reciting the chatat section "just in case" one is obligated on a given morning to bring this sacrifice.

            Rav Frank contends that the Beit Yosef sought to answer this question when he wrote that reciting the chatat section earns one "some atonement."  The Beit Yosef here means that reciting the given section does not yield the same effect as the actual offering of a korban.  The Gemara did not establish total parity between the study of the korbanot and the offering of the korbanot; it rather meant that one can achieve some level of atonement through the study of the korban, somewhat resembling the effects of actually bringing that sacrifice.

            On this basis, the Beit Yosef proceeds to explain why the Tur advises reading the chatat section without adding the yehi ratzon.  Since the atonement earned through the recitation of the chatat section does not precisely resemble that achieved through the actual offering, one may recite it even under circumstances where he would be unable to bring the offering, namely, if he does not know with certainty that he must bring the sacrifice.  Even in such a case, the korban will be effective in earning some degree of atonement if this is necessary.  However, one cannot in such a situation ask God to look upon his recitation as if he had actually offered a chatat, since under such circumstances he cannot actually bring a chatat.  The chatat differs in this respect from the voluntary offerings, where one may, indeed, make such a request, since one may bring a voluntary korban under any circumstances.

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            Yesterday, we discussed the halakha concerning the daily recitation of the korbanot sections in Parashat Tzav, which the Tur codifies (O.C. 1) based on the Gemara in Masekhet Menachot (110a).  The Magen Avraham (1:8) noted that from the formulation of this halakha in the Tur and Shulchan Arukh (1:5), it appears that one should recite the section dealing with the ola sacrifice (the voluntary burnt-offering) before reciting the section of the chatat (sin-offering required after inadvertent violations of certain transgressions).  Yet, the Mishna in Masekhet Zevachim (89a) states explicitly that in the Temple, the sprinkling of the sacrificial blood of the chatat would precede that of the ola.  The reason, the Mishna explains, is that the chatat blood is endowed with a higher level of kedusha (sanctity) by virtue of its power to earn expiation for the sinner.  If, the Magen Avraham asks, the chatat precedes the ola in the context of the rituals in the Temple, why would the Tur and Shulchan Arukh arrange the recitation of the ola section before that of the chatat section?

            The Sha'arei Teshuva cites an answer to this question from a work entitled Da'at Kedoshim.  The Da'at Kedoshim claimed that although – as we discussed yesterday – the study of the laws of a given korban yields atonement similar to the actual offering of that korban, the efficacy of study as a substitute for the actual sacrifice is much lower in the case of a chatat.  As opposed to an ola offering, which is entirely burnt on the altar, the chatat is only partially burnt on the altar, with the rest of the animal given to the kohanim for consumption.  The Talmud establishes the principle known as kohanim okhelin u-va'alim mitkaperin: the penitent sinner earns atonement through the kohanim's consumption of the sacrificial meat.  More precisely, the combination of the sprinkling of the blood, the offering of the fats on the altar, and the kohanim's partaking of the meat, yields the desired effect of atonement.

            The kohanim's role in this process cannot be substituted through the recitation or study of the relevant section in the Torah.  By reciting the section a person can be considered to have brought a korban whose blood was sprinkled and whose fats were offered upon the altar, but it cannot take the place of the final component of the process – the kohanim's consumption of the sacrificial meat.  Therefore, when it comes to the recitation of korbanot, the chatat recitation is of a lower stature than the ola recitation.  Since the ola sacrifice is entirely burnt on the altar, a full correspondence is achieved by reciting the ola section in the Torah.  For this reason, the Da'at Kedoshim suggests, the Tur and Shulchan Arukh advocated reciting the ola section before reciting the chatat section.

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            Parashat Tzav discusses the basic laws of the korban toda, or thanksgiving offering, which one would bring as an expression of gratitude to the Almighty for saving him from a life-threatening situation.  As Rashi explains (7:12), this korban consisted – in addition to an animal sacrifice – of four types of bread, three of which were unleavened.  The individual would bring ten "loaves" of each kind of bread, for a total of forty, and one of each ten was given to the kohen along with the parts of the animal that the kohen received (chazeh and shok).  The rest of the breads – and the rest of the animal – were eaten by the individual bringing the offering (and usually shared with family and friends).

            The Ramban, in his commentary (7:14), raises the question of why this korban was not mentioned earlier, in Parashat Vayikra (2:12), as an exception to the standard rule barring leaven products from use as sacrificial offerings.  There in Parashat Vayikra the Torah makes exception for the "korban reishit" (literally, "first offering"), which Chazal identify as the korban shetei ha-lechem, the special offering brought on Shavuot which consisted of two loaves of leavened bread (see Vayikra 23:17).  Why, the Ramban asks, does the Torah there not mention as well the other exception – the korban toda, which likewise consisted of chametz products?

            The Ramban answers that it was not necessary to exclude the korban toda from the standard rule that forbids offering chametz, since the bread of the korban toda was not placed upon the altar.  The Torah in Parashat Vayikra forbids bringing chametz upon the altar, which does not preclude the possibility of partaking of bread or giving bread to a kohen as part of a sacrifice, and hence the Torah felt no need to exclude the korban toda.

            The Peirush Ha-Tur notes, however, that this hardly answers the question posed by the Ramban.  For the loaves of bread brought with the korban shetei ha-lechem on Shavuot likewise were not placed upon the altar.  The bread accompanied the animal sacrifices, but was not offered on the mizbei'ach; seemingly, then, if the Torah nevertheless found it necessary to exclude the shetei ha-lechem from the standard rule, then it would similarly have to exclude the korban toda.  (The Keli Chemda, as cited by Rav Chayim Chavel, in his annotation to the Ramban's commentary, discusses this issue at length and suggests an entirely different reading of this passage in the Ramban.)

The Tur therefore suggests that the Torah there in Parashat Vayikra dealt only with obligatory sacrifices, and therefore excluded the shetei ha-lechem – the only obligatory sacrifice that involved leaven.  The korban toda, however, was – strictly speaking – voluntary, and the Torah therefore had no need to mention it.  (It should be noted that the context of the Torah's discussion there in Parashat Vayikra is, in fact, that of the voluntary offerings.  It thus requires some explanation why the Torah would find it necessary to exclude specifically the mandatory sacrifices that involve leaven.)  This answer is suggested as well by the Panim Yafot. 

            The Ramban suggests an additional explanation, claiming that the Torah perhaps did not necessarily exclude the korban shetei ha-lechem, either.  As Rashi comments there in Parashat Vayikra, korban reishit refers not only to the shetei ha-lechem sacrifice, but also to the bikkurim, or first-fruit offerings, which a farmer would bring from all produce of the seven species of Eretz Yisrael.  Included in these species are figs and dates, which contain natural honey.  Now when the Torah in Parashat Vayikra forbids offering leaven upon the altar, it also forbids bringing offerings with honey.  It therefore had to make an exception for the korban reishit – a term that refers both to the Shavuot offering, which included leaven, and to the bikkurim offering, which could include honey.  The Ramban suggests that korban reishit perhaps refers primarily to the bikkurim, and only incidentally to the shetei ha-lechem.  For in truth, he argues, the Torah would have no need to specify that leaven may be brought as part of the shetei ha-lechem, since the Torah explicitly requires bringing this chametz offering, later in Sefer Vayikra.  Regarding bikkurim, however, the Torah does not, in discussing this mitzva (in the beginning of Parashat Ki-Tavo), explicitly allow for bringing nectar-laden fruits.  It was therefore necessary to specify in Parashat Vayikra that bikkurim is allowed even if it includes honey.  But regarding the shetei ha-lechem – and the korban toda – such specification is unnecessary, since the Torah explicitly sanctions bringing chametz in these contexts.

            Rav Chavel notes that a much simpler explanation appears to emerge from the Ramban's own comments to Parashat Emor, concerning the shetei ha-lechem offering.  The Ramban there describes the shetei ha-lechem as a type of korban toda, a thanksgiving offering through which the nation expresses its gratitude over a successful harvest.  If so, then the Torah's exclusion of the shetei ha-lechem from the prohibition against offering leaven can naturally and intuitively be extended to the korban toda generally, easily resolving the Ramban's question.  The Ramban perhaps did not suggest this answer because the exception made for one particular form of the korban toda would not necessarily translate into a general exclusion of all thanksgiving offerings without the Torah's explicit indication to this effect.

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            The Midrash Tanchuma in Parashat Tzav (4) tells that the nations of the world approached Bilam, the prominent gentile seer, and asked why the Almighty instructed Benei Yisrael with regard to the sacrifices, but made no such gesture to the other peoples.  Bilam's response, as recorded by the Midrash, reads, in part, "He who accepted the Torah, in which they [the sacrifices] are written, should offer sacrifices.  You from the outset rejected it [the Torah], and now you seek to offer sacrifices?  He who accepted it offers sacrifices."

            Rav Simcha Bunim Sofer (son of the Ketav Sofer, grandson of the Chatam Sofer), in his work Sha'arei Simcha, explains this Midrash based on a different, much more famous, Midrashic passage, that tells of God's offer of the Torah to all the world's nations at that time.  To each nation, He introduced the Torah by pointing to the prohibition that they would find most difficult – be it theft, adultery, idolatry, or murder.  Upon hearing of that particular prohibition, the nation declined the offer.  But when they heard that God established in the Torah a sacrificial system for Benei Yisrael, they suddenly felt envious and approached Bilam to ask why they had not been told of this valuable mechanism.  Had they known that the Torah allows for expiation through sacrificial offerings, then they would have accepted the Torah despite its difficult demands, given the possibility of atoning for one's mistakes by offering a sacrifice.

            Bilam therefore explained to them that for this very reason they were denied the privilege of the sacrifices mentioned in the Torah.  Only he who accepts the Torah, who genuinely commits himself to its laws and teachings, is granted the opportunity to atone for his occasional mistakes through the system of korbanot.  But they, who "from the outset rejected it," who were never prepared to make the commitment in the first place, have no right to offer sacrifices.

            In this vein, perhaps, we might explain the verses in Sefer Yirmiyahu (7:21-23), where the prophet criticizes the people's exaggerated reliance and emphasis on korbanot: "So says the Lord…Add your burnt-offerings onto your feast offerings, and eat meat!  For I did not speak to your forefathers or command them on the day I took them from the land of Egypt with regard to burn-offerings or feast offerings.  Rather, I commanded them on this matter, saying: Heed My voice and I shall be for you a God."  Many commentators struggled to explain how God could claim that He never issued a command to Benei Yisrael with regard to sacrifices.  (The Rambam addresses this verse in his famous and controversial discussion of the underlying purpose of the sacrifices, in Moreh Nevukhim 3:32.)  In light of this passage from the Midrash Tanchuma, as explained by the Sha'arei Simcha, we might explain these verses to mean that God did not instruct Benei Yisrael with regard to sacrifices "on the day I took them from the land of Egypt," until they expressed their unconditional acceptance of the Torah.  This acceptance is critically necessary before they could be given access to the sacrificial order, which allows a penitent sinner to erase – or at least improve – his record with the Almighty.  In Yirmiyahu's time, the people felt confident in winning God's favor because they faithfully observed the sacrificial rituals.  God therefore reminded them that the concept of sacrifices was introduced only after Benei Yisrael expressed their overall and unwavering devotion to God's laws – a devotion without which the sacrifices become practically useless as a means of enhancing the people's relationship to the Almighty.

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            In the beginning of Parashat Tzav, the Torah describes the korban ola (burnt-offering), particularly the daily tamid sacrifice which would burn on the altar throughout the night.  The verse states (6:2), "ve-eish ha-mizbei'ach tukad bo" – "the fire on the altar is lit through it."  On the surface, this means that the sacrifice sustained the fire on the altar to ensure that it would not be extinguished.  Torat Kohanim, however, interprets this phrase differently, claiming that this "fire" is not the fire on the altar upon which the ola burned, but rather the fire on the other altar, the mizbach ha-ketoret (incense altar).  Recall that the Beit Ha-mikdash featured two altars.  The mizbach ha-ola was situated outside, in the Temple's courtyard, and served as the primary altar, upon which all animal sacrifices and meal offerings were burned.  The mizbach ha-ketoret, by contrast, was situated inside the Temple, together with the shulchan (table) and menora, and was used only for the daily incense offering and the blood sprinkling ritual on Yom Kippur.  According to Torat Kohanim, the phrase ve-eish ha-mizbei'ach tukad bo means that the fire of the incense altar was to be kindled from the fire of the mizbach ha-ola.  Torat Kohanim extends this rule to include as well the other fires that were required inside the Temple, namely, the fire used to burn the incense on the machta (incense pan), upon which the incense was brought to the altar, and the fire of the candles of the menora.  All these fires were likewise kindled from the fire on the mizbach ha-ola.

            The laws and rituals relevant to the service in the Beit Ha-mikdash have traditionally been approached as symbolic of ideas and themes relevant to Jewish life as envisioned by the Torah.  This assumption has authorized writers and darshanim throughout the ages to arrive at novel and creative explanations of these rituals, and extract critical lessons concerning the Torah way of life.  What might be the symbolic meaning of this requirement, that the fires of the mizbach ha-ketoret, machta and menora be kindled specifically from the fire of the mizbach ha-ola?

            Rav Moshe Rosen, in his Ohel Moshe, suggests that these two areas – the courtyard outside the Temple, and the Temple itself – symbolize the two basic realms of a person's life – the spiritual and the mundane.  The area inside the Mikdash, of course, would represent a person's deeper, spiritual dimension, whereas the courtyard symbolizes the "exterior," man's physical pursuits.  This halakha perhaps conveys the message that one must devote some of his "fire," his energies, passions, talents and resources, to the "interior" aspects of life.  People, especially in their younger years, exert so much of what they have in the pursuit of gratification, wealth and prestige.  One must remember that from the fire of the "outside" altar he must kindle the "interior" altar.  A person's "fire" cannot remain outdoors, it cannot "burn" and drive a person to achieve only in the realm of the mundane; that fire must be shared with his "interior," the world of spirit, which deserves no less fire, passion and effort as one invests into the other areas of his life.

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            Parashat Tzav begins with the mitzva of terumat ha-deshen, the ritual that opened the daily service in the Beit Ha-mikdash, requiring that the kohen move the ashes that had collected upon the altar to the side.  When the pile of ashes became very high, he would remove the ashes outside the grounds of the Temple.  On the surface, this mitzva is intended very simply for the purpose of cleanliness, to ensure the proper removal and disposal of the ash that had collected on the altar.  Nevertheless, many writers and darshanim have found deeper significance to this ritual, and have paid particular attention to the fact that it was with this act that the Temple service began each morning.

            Rav Meir Goldwicht (www.yutorah.org/_shiurim/Rav%20Goldwicht%20Tzav%2E.pdf) suggested that the essence of hashra'at ha-Shekhina, the notion of God's residence in the Mikdash among Benei Yisrael, is symbolized by this ritual, of removing the ashes from the altar.  In order to make the altar usable for the day's avoda (ritual service), the kohen must move away the ashes, he must clear away a surface.  In a sense, this is precisely what hashra'at ha-Shekhina requires of a Jew: that he "make space" in his life for God.  The ritual of terumat ha-deshen each and every morning symbolically reminds the Jew to make room for God in his life, that his day cannot be occupied solely by his personal interests.  The Jewish notion of a spiritual encounter, which is, in effect, what the Mikdash is all about, means moving one's ambitions and wishes to the side to allow room for God, symbolized by the removal of the ashes to the side of the altar.

            This concept marks one of the critical points of distinction between Judaism and the ancient pagans, who worshipped the forces of nature in an attempt to appease them and win their favor.  This type of religious worship in not the service of a deity; it is the attempted service of oneself.  The Torah demands of the Jew that he serve God, not himself; that he move himself away from the center and bring the Almighty in.  Terumat ha-deshen, the very first ritual performed in the Temple each morning, thus symbolizes the basic concept that characterizes the Temple service – the notion of sacrifice, the individual's willingness to give of himself and make sacrifices for the sake of establishing a meaningful relationship with his Creator.

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            The brief paragraph of Ha Lachma Anya, with which we begin the Maggid section of the Haggada, addresses three different topics.  First, we point to the matza and remind ourselves that this is the bread of which our ancestors partook in Egypt.  Next, we extend an open invitation to all those in hungry and in need ("kol di-tzrikh…kol di-khpin") to join us at the Seder.  Finally, we express our wish that although this year we find ourselves in exile and under oppression ("hashata hakha…hashata avdei"), next year we will celebrate the festival as a free nation in the Land of Israel.

            The common theme that runs through these three segments of Ha Lachma Anya would appear to be that of sudden and drastic transformation.  This is most obvious in the second and third segments.  We turn to those who are despondent and face helpless straits, and offer them help and encouragement.  We lend a hand and a promise that they are not alone, that we will accompany them through their difficult travails and ensure that their needs are provided for.  Similarly, we turn to ourselves, to our entire nation, and with heroic optimism and anticipation proclaim that we expect to observe Pesach the following year as a redeemed people in our rebuilt city of Jerusalem.

            This declaration begins with the description of the matza, the "bread of affliction that our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt."  The matza serves a dual symbolic purpose.  First, as stated explicitly in Parashat Re'ei (16:3), matza is, indeed, lechem oni, "bread of affliction," a representation of the poverty and suffering we endured during our years of bondage in Egypt.  But in addition, as we explain later in the Haggada, our consumption of matza commemorates the haste with which the Exodus unfolded, the sudden transformation of fate that occurred over a period of time shorter than the duration required for dough to ferment.  We point to the matza and observe the irony in the fact that this same "bread of affliction," the symbol of suffering and hopelessness, became in an instant a powerful symbol of freedom.

            As many writers have explained, the Ha Lachma Anya paragraph, which is written in Aramaic, the language of the Babylonian exile, comes to answer the pressing question that must occupy the mind of a Jew in exile as he sits down to the seder: why and how do we celebrate our redemption, while we live in such an unredeemed world?  Our answer begins with the matza, the bread of affliction that transformed into the bread of celebration.  We then proceed to share our encouragement with the underprivileged and downtrodden, and invite them to draw inspiration from this experience.  Finally, we bring this spark of hope to all Kelal Yisrael, and announce that as difficult and far from "messianic" our situation may at first appear, the matza on our tables allows us the right to confidently proclaim, "This year we are here; next year, in the land of Israel!"