Parshat Tzav; Leviticus 6:1-8:36

This second portion read from the book of Leviticus continues with a description in detail of additional sacrifices. This week the Torah continues to review the requirements of a burnt offering (olah), a grain offering (mincha) a sin offering (chatat), a guilt offering (asham), and peace offering (shelamim). It details the way in which the offering is made and the exact details of the priests duties.

The first of the services of the day where called Terumat HaDeshen –separating the ash. The fire on the altar had to be kept going all the time. It was a perpetual fire. And the priest’s first duty in the morning was to sift through the ash separating the remnants of the offering from embers of the fire. The priest then had to remove the ash, place it next to the Altar then change out of his sacred vestments to remove the holy ash outside the encampment. Then upon his return he would place two logs of wood on the main altar to stoke the fire and begin the days sacrifices.

These minute details of the seemingly mundane are anything but. This work of fire building and sacrifices is sacred work to the priests and to the people Israel. Those ashes are not just dust, but the residue of a sacred offering that absolved one of guilt or sin. These ashes are the remains of repentance and thanks to God. And the fire on the altar is the instrument that lifts up our sin or our guilt for expiation.

And so the Torah text offers in great detail the means of keeping the flame alive.

While today we have no sacrifices, we too could practice terumat HaDeshen—a ceremony of separating the ash. Each morning upon our rising, in our own daily prayer, which is our offering, we might also separate the ash of yesterday’s failings. By examining and cleaning out our own dust and grime, we might uncover and reveal the ember of our own humanity. The grime of daily interactions—the screaming we did at the driver who cut us off, the impatient flare of anger at our partner who forgot to pick-up the dry cleaning, the brusque manner that we exhibited to the store clerk who dallied talking on the phone in stead of ringing up our order. Each morning, like the High Priests of old, we ought attend to the fires burning in our own souls—the fire of hope, the fire of passion, the fire of humility, the fire of holiness, the fire of faith. If we tended it as well as the High Priests tended the fire on the altar of the Tabernacle, fewer of us would feel as lost and aimless as we do. We would have a sense of self, and of place, of connection and relationship in the world. We would come to know our selves and most importantly, we might even come to know God!

As any chimney sweep or Cinderella will tell you, cleaning out ashes is not glamorous work. It is dirty and dusty and it makes you cough. Your clothing is smudged and soot gets in your nose and hair. But it is essential work. It is work that must be done to be able to build a fire and to keep it going. This is the work High Priests were commanded to do, and in truth we should as well. But our flame, our altar is within. We need to give it the same loving care to keep the fire of our faith alive. It must be tended to—otherwise our cynicism and skepticism, and anger take over.

I hope you will rise each day tending to your soul as the High Priests tended to the flame on the altar. You will be glad that you opened yourself and you will find that is indeed the dwelling place of the Divine.

Posted by Lee at March 22, 2005 11:44 AM