TZAV
Tzav, Command (the imperative verb form of the same root as the word mitzvah) (Chapters 6-8) has two distinct parts. Chapters 6 and 7 recapitulate the sacrifices described in Chapters 1-5, but from the point of view of the priests and the apportionment of what is edible and what must be disposed of and how. The sacrifices belong to YHVH, but all he wants is the good smells made by burning, and the priesthood has to receive compensation for their work on behalf of YHVH. Chapter 8 is the ritual enactment of the ordination of the priests described in Exodus 29. Moses brings Aaron and his sons to the tent of meeting, and with the entire people watching, he first washes them, then dresses them. He takes the anointing oil and purifies everything. Then he slaughters a bull after Aaron and his sons had laid their hands on it and pours the blood the way he is commanded to do, then offers a ram and then a second ram. With the blood of the second ram, the ram of ordination, he puts blood on the right earlobe, the right thumb and the right big toe of all the ordinands. He sprinkles more oil and blood on them and tells them to stay in the tent of meeting for the next seven days. (8:33)
The eternal fire that is burned on the altar
Why priests eat only unleavened bread
The three types of wholeness or well being (shlamim) offerings
The seven days of initiation the would be priests undergo.
“And the fire on the altar shall be kept burning through it. It shall not go out…Fire always shall be kept burning on the altar. It shall not go out.” (6:5-6). Fire is an incredibly important element in Judaism. Even in the absence of sacrifice, there are ritual recreations of this always burning fire. My synagogue growing up had a ner tamid, an eternal light (fire) on the bima (pulpit). Wilderness Torah, to its great credit, keeps the fire burning throughout its festivals to revitalize this commandment. Further, they utilize fire in their children’s programming and in their initiation into adolescence program, B’naiture.
Why is it so important to keep the fire burning always? The text doesn’t tell us why, but any number of possible interpretations are readily available. Sacrifice is not possible without fire, and sacrifice is a core biblical way to communicate with the divine. The text gives us two motivations to communicate with the divine. One is to set things right between humans and the divine and amongst humans. The other is to express gratitude. Without an eternal fire, it is possible that the conditions for the communication with the divine would be broken. The Bible doesn’t have many stories of Yossi (Joe) Shmoe talking to YHVH, but it has plenty of rules for how Yossi (and Josie) can make amends for anything that they have done wrong or express gratitude.
On another easily available level, fire is passion and heat. All religions want the passion for the divine to be always burning.
What do you believe are the conditions for communicating with the divine? How do you keep them alive? What burns inside of you? What’s the right balance between a roaring fire and a bad of hot coals that can be coaxed back to life?
Why do priests eat only unleavened bread? “And Aaron and his sons shall eat the remainder of it [offerings made with grain]. It shall be eaten as unleavened bread, in a holy place.” (6:9). This is a continuation of 2:11 “Every grain offering that your will bring forward to YHVH shall not be made from leavening.” OK, so why is leavening bad? Maimonides, according to Ramban, claims it is because the Canaanites offered all their meal offerings as leavened bread. Jacob Milgrom, a contemporary leading scholar of Leviticus, argues “leaven is the arch symbol of fermentation, deterioration, and death (commentary on 2:11, p. 26). Milgrom’s argument is buttressed by 2:13 that salt should be sprinkled on every grain offering, with salt being the preservative par excellence in ancient times. Given the ongoing preoccupation with unchanging law and the pollution caused by death that is constantly repeated in the priestly portion of the Bible, Milgrom’s interpretation makes sense. There’s a concern to keep everything related to change and death as far away as possible from YHVH and his representatives on earth who do his work, the priests.
And yet, there is no life without death. Fermentation, deterioration, and death are absolutely necessary for all life. Whether we embrace the bubbling of fermentation and life or the dryness of unleavened bread, both end in death. Why is death so polluting?
Everything in my body says that fermentation, death and deterioration are associated with women, and eating only unleavened bread is a way to keep the male (and yet married) priesthood and male God away from women even though I can’t point to any particular text to support this. To me, this demand for unleavened bread is here an ascetic, life denying demand. Bread is the staff of life (a biblical phrase in Ezekiel and Isaiah), and the bread we who are not priests usually eat has leavening because we non priests aren’t ascetics. It’s a commonplace to argue that Judaism, unlike Christianity, does not embrace asceticism. But while we have always had a married Rabbinate and priesthood, there’s plenty of asceticism in Judaism and this commandment for the priesthood to eat only unleavened bread is an example.
Where are you bubbling and fermenting in your life and where are you dry and desiccated? Where are you embracing the changes that time inevitably brings and where are you attempting to pretend they don’t exist? Do you believe that gender is part of this commandment and what are the implications of that?
Our text gives us three types of shlamim (wholeness or well being) offerings (7:11-18). The first is a todah offering, an offering of thanksgiving. Our text gives us no context about when this is offered, but the Rabbinic commentary, following JPS, highlights three circumstances. These are “by one who has recovered from illness, been rescued from danger or returned safely from a journey.” Not coincidentally, these are the same circumstances in which one recites Birkat Hagomel, the prayer of thanksgiving for safety. This is an example of the transition from sacrifice to prayer. The second type of offering is to satisfy a vow (neder). The third is a freewill offering which is just to give thanks for something; a great new client, a large grant for your non profit, the start of a romantic relationship. (7:16)
We live in a culture of material plenty and great safety, compared to our ancestors. Travelling all over the globe is something many of us do, without concern that we won’t survive the journey. Diseases that killed our ancestors have been basically eradicated (think smallpox, polio and bubonic plague), far fewer of us die from things like tuberculosis and far fewer women die in childbirth than did a few hundred years ago. But I think we struggle with feeling grateful for all this plenty, because too many of us have empty souls, or souls that are sometimes empty.
The traditional morning blessings that Jews recite upon awakening begin with general gratitude of thanking the divine for the ability to rise out of bed, for the human community, for our bodies, for our souls and for specific things like making us Jews and making us free. Then we express gratitude when we recite blessings over bread and after meals. But most of us have basically lost these practices, or we honor them by mumbling through them without much intention, which, to me, defeats the purpose.
Do you have any kind of gratitude practice? How much of it is generalized gratitude for e.g. being alive and healthy, and how much is specialized gratitude for specific events in your life like a big grant? How would it change your life to truly cultivate a practice of gratitude in your life?
The conclusion of the first day of the initiation of Aaron and his sons into the priesthood is notable for its utter lack of instruction on what they are supposed to do. Moses tells them to cook the meat and bread and then burn what is left. This then will be repeated for the next seven days (8:33), following what has been laid out in Exodus (28:35-37). The English feels obscure when it says “He will fill your hand for 7 days.” (Leviticus 8:33), but everyone agrees this means that the rituals are being repeated for those seven days. This is clearly a purification process for the ordinands. “What has been done on this day YHVH commanded to do, to make atonement over you.” (8:34). And then what? “And you shall sit at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting day and night, seven days, and you shall keep YHVH’s charge, and you will not die.” (8:35)
What happens in those seven days? Who knows? Are they supposed to keep some kind of vigil? That would make sense, but there’s no tradition that suggests that, as far as I know. Are they supposed to purify themselves in any way, or is purification just something that happens to them? Are they supposed to do anything that transforms them in any way—or are the new priests the same people who entered the tent of meeting seven days earlier, only now priests?
I don’t think there’s any way to answer these questions. But it begs a series of questions around preparing and ordaining religious specialists that aren’t about their knowledge or skill base to e.g. chant Torah, render legal judgments for the community or how many laws or stories they know. It begs questions about what kind of spiritual preparation they should undergo.
Should our religious specialists be mandated to undergo a 7 day vigil of some sort? Where should such a vigil be held? What would be the content of that vigil? Do they fast for all or part of it? Would such a vigil only be incumbent upon those who want to be religious specialists, or should it be encouraged for everyone, if we are to be a kingdom of priests (Exodus 19:6)?
QUESTIONS
What do you believe are the conditions for communicating with the divine? How do you keep them alive? What burns inside of you? What’s the right balance between a roaring fire and a bad of hot coals that can be coaxed back to life?
Where are you bubbling and fermenting in your life and where are you dry and desiccated? Where are you embracing the changes that time inevitably brings and where are you attempting to pretend they don’t exist? Do you believe that gender is part of this commandment and what are the implications of that?
Do you have any kind of gratitude practice? How much of it is generalized gratitude for e.g. being alive and healthy, and how much is specialized gratitude for specific events in your life like a big grant? How would it change your life to truly cultivate a practice of gratitude in your life?
Should our religious specialists be mandated to undergo a 7 day vigil of some sort? Where should such a vigil be held? What would be the content of that vigil? Do they fast for all or part of it? Would such a vigil only be incumbent upon those who want to be religious specialists, or should it be encouraged for everyone, if we are to be a kingdom of priests (Exodus 19:6)?
