9 Nisan 5783 | March 31, 2023
Parshat Tzav
Nomi Kaltmann
Class of 2023
Parshat Tzav features intricate descriptions of korbanot that were offered in the Temple. The rituals associated with each of these sacrifices are described in depth in this week’s Torah portion.
When reading the parsha and imagining the experience of seeing fire burn an offering in the Beit Hamikdash or the image of a kohen standing in front of you as he perfectly aligned each part of the sacrifice, it is not hard to imagine how offering a korban could be a life changing experience. Each korban had such deep and rich symbolism built into its offering.
For example, the kohanim are commanded to keep the flame of the Korban Olah consistently burning.
Command Aaron and his sons thus: This is the ritual of the burnt offering: The burnt offering itself shall remain where it is burned upon the altar all night until morning, while the fire on the altar is kept going on it.
The Ramban says that the kohanim must place enough wood on the altar so that a fire is always burning, including throughout the night. In an era before electricity, when outside of the Temple it is likely there were very few sources of 24-hour light, it is not hard to imagine that this consistent burning light would have made a deep impression on anyone who walked past. This act symbolized eternity: it was meant to impart a message to the people of Israel, that while other things may be passing or temporary, the presence of God in the Temple is eternal.
In fact, the whole Temple experience was meant to emphasize this deep connection. The Kohanim are commanded to wear their special clothing while doing even mundane tasks related to the service of God, such as moving the ashes of previous korbanot.
The priest shall dress in linen raiment, with linen breeches next to his body; and he shall take up the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering on the altar and place them beside the altar.
I don’t know about you, but with my large brood of children, keeping everyone clean at the same time, especially when doing messy activities is a constant challenge. I cannot begin to fathom the care and precision of the kohanim, who, while wearing holy vestments, were required to work with ash and still ensure that they stayed clean.
Rashi notes that due to the inherently dirty nature of the job of separating the ashes, when doing this role of cleaning, the kohanim were encouraged to change their clothing to other garments, some of them older and more worn priestly garments, in order to protect their newer ritual clothing from dirt. This method helped to avoid dirtying their clean and daily priestly clothing.
But on some level, surely it makes sense not to wear holy clothing while doing dirty work?
However, the symbolism of this act was clear: performing the service of God in the Temple requires special care. It’s the reason we wear clothing to special occasions that differs from our daily work or play clothing. It’s the reason that on Shabbat we wear beautiful clothes. Because our clothing helps to elevate the experience of the wearer, to make a separation between mundane and holy.
Throughout the Temple and all its associated rituals and work, the beauty was in the details. When one saw the kohanim dressed in their finest garb, or the beauty of the ritual in the korbanot, the Jewish people who would walk through would understand that this holy place was theirs for eternity. Through the good and the bad. Through the mundane and the dirty. But most of all, right there for them when they needed to connect with God.
