From: Netvort@aol.com
Sent: Friday, April 07, 2006 3:10
AM
To: JoshHoff@aol.com
Subject: Netvort : parshas Tzav,
5766
Something's
Burning
By Rabbi Joshua (pyrotechnically known as The Hoffer) Hoffman
In the beginning of parshas Tzav, the Torah tells us that the olah, or
burnt-offering, must stay on the flame that is on the altar all night, until the
morning, and that the fire on this altar must be kept aflame on it (Vayikra
6:2). A few verses later, this requirement is repeated, and a prohibition not to
extinguish the flame is added : "The fire on the altar shall remain aflame on
it, it shall not be extinguished ; and the kohein shall kindle wood upon it
every morning..." (Vayikra 6:5). In fact, the Rambam, in his Sefer HaMitzvos,
counts as two separate mitzvos the positive requirement to keep a flame going on
the altar constantly, and the negative command, not to extinguish it. On a
simple level, these mitzvos served a functional purpose, assuring that a flame
would always be available for use in the Temple service. However, the rabbis
tell us that in any case a fire descended from heaven to accomplish this, but,
still, there is a mitzvoh to bring a fire from 'hedyot,' or a common, earthly
source. The Sefer HaChinuch, moreover, writes that this earthly fire burned on a
separate pile of wood that was arranged on the altar. What, then, was the
purpose of this fire?
The author of the Sefer Hachinuch explains
that the fire which descended from heaven constituted a miracle. However, even
in the Temple, God wanted there to be some natural element involved in the
process, as well. This is God's way of performing major miracles, to couch His
major miracles in natural settings, so that they appear to have occurred
according to the natural order. In a similar way, he continues, we find that
even though it was God who caused the Yam Suf to split, He drove the sea back by
a strong east wind the entire previous night (Shemos 14:21). Interestingly,
Rabbeinu Bachya ben Asher, in his commentary to parshas Beshalach, offers a
similar explanation for God's causing of the east wind to blow before He caused
the sea to split. The reason that God couched this great miracle in a natural
form, he continues, was to give those who wish to deny God's providence an
opportunity to do so. Rabbi Avigdor Nebenzahl, in his Sichos, or talks, to
parshas Tzav, without citing Rabbeinu Bachya's remarks, offers this approach as
one way of explaining the Chinuch's principle of God's wishing to hide His major
miracles in a natural format. By hiding these miracles to an extent, explains
Rabbi Nebenzahl, God enables man to maintain his free will in face of the
overwhelming evidence of divine providence. In a second explanation of the
Chinuch's principle, Rabbi Nebenzahl suggests that man's culpability for not
being impressed by God's miracles and not following the demands of the Torah
after witnessing these miracles is mitigated by the fact that a natural factor
was intermingled with them.
I find great difficulty in
understanding the Chinuch's principle, according to either of the two
explanations offered by Rabbi Nebenzahl, as applied to the fire on the altar.
While the principle is readily understood, according to either of the
explanations, in regard to miracles such as the splitting of the Yam Suf, which
occurred outside of the mishkan, it does not seem reasonable within the mishkan
itself, since the entire purpose of the mishkan was to establish God's presence
among the people ! Moreover, Rabbi Avrohom Yeshaya Karelitz, known as the Chazon
Ish, wrote, in his commentary to Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Deah, that it is
precisely because there was such an overwhelming sense of divine providence in
the mishkan that the Torah's penalties for heretics were so great, and why there
is a mitigating factor in regard to our attitude to such people today, in the
absence of these open miracles. The author of the Chinuch himself, in fact,
appears unsatisfied with his first explanation, and goes on to offer another
one. According to this second explanation, fire represents a force in the nature
of man, the chief of the four elements in man according to ancient science, and
the blessing that man achieves from God corresponds to the kind of effort he
invests, through use of this inner fire, in carrying out God's will. Although
this approach is rooted in a view of man's inner nature that is based on a
scientific system no longer followed, Rabbi Nebenzahl, in a footnote to his talk
on parshas Tzav, points out that this approach accords with an understanding of
the sacrificial service that he presented in a talk on parshas Vayikra. The
interested reader is referred to that essay. I would like to suggest a different
way of understanding the requirement of maintaining a constant fire on the
altar, which is not based on either of the approaches of the Chinuch, but which
does have implications for the sacrificial system, in general.
In parshas Vayakehil, before informing the Jewish people
about the command to build the mishkan, Moshe tells them about Shabbos. He tells
them that performing melacha on Shabbos incurs the death penalty, and tells them
specifically that they should not kindle fire on Shabbos. Why is that melacha,
or forbidden category of work, known as 'havarah,' or kindling, singled out from
all the others? There is a dispute in the Talmud whether it is singled out to
indicate that, alone among the rest of the thirty-nine categories of forbidden
labor, it does not incur the death penalty, or to show that each of the
thirty-nine melachos of Shabbos is treated individually, incuring its own
penalty when committed. According to the first opinion, we can understand why
havara is singled out, since it is the only melacha that does not incur the
death penalty. However, according to the second opinion, the lesson taught by
singling out havarah could have equally been taught by singling out any one of
the melachos. Why, then, was havarah chosen as the one melacha that represents
all of the melachos of Shabbos?
Rabbi Zvi Dov Kanotopsky, in
his work The Depths of Simplicity, mentions the remark of Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi
Soloveitchik, zt"l, that fire was the instrument by which the golden calf was
made. In the aftermath of that unfortunate episode, after repenting for their
failing, the people had the image of that fire in their minds. That is why,
whereas before that episode, Moshe first mentioned the mishkan to the people,
and then Shabbos, after the episode he first mentioned Shabbos, and then the
mishkan. Before the people worshipped the eigel, explained Rav Soloveitchik, one
could speak to them of all the theological implications of the mishkan before
discussing the principles of Shabbos. After the eigel, however, emphasis had to
be placed on observance of Shabbos, which reinforces our acknowledgment of the
fact that God created and controls the universe. With that thought uppermost in
their minds, the people would not again use the potentially destructive force of
fire to form a forbidden image. Based on Rabbi Soloveitchik's understanding of
the imagery of fire as evoking the specter of idolatry, I believe that we can
better understand the purpose of the obligation to keep a fire kindled on the
altar on a constant basis.
We noted in last week's message
that according to the Rambam, sacrifices were meant to wean the people away from
the idolatrous practices they were used to in Egypt. We explained, based on
Rabbi Moshe Narboni and others, that idolatry in this context must be
understood, in a deeper sense, as the tendency of man to attribute events in the
world to any force outside of God. Bringing a sacrifice to God serves as our
acknowledgment that everything in the world belongs to Him, including ourselves,
as represented by the animal we are offering up. In this context, we can
understand why a fire needed to be lit on the altar on a constant basis. The
fire that the kohein kindled each day evoked the image of the fire that was used
to form the eigel that was used to defy God. Now, in the mishkan, it was kindled
on the altar to be kindled there next to the fire that descended from heaven,
thus indicating that just as that fire comes from God, so, too man's creative
efforts, as symbolized by fire, which can forge utensils to be used in human
activity, have their source in God, who gives the abilities he possesses to do
his work. This thought serves as a constant reminder to man not to misuse the
gifts that God has given him and use them to rebel against Him, as the nation
did when it made the golden calf.
A joyous Pesach to all from
the entire Netvort staff.
Please address all
correspondence to the author (Rabbi Hoffman) with the following address -
JoshHoff @ AOL.com.
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