Parshat Tzav - An Eternal Flame

Am I only dreaming,
Or is this burning an eternal flame?

(Susanna Hoffs, Billy Steinberg, and Tom Kelly)

Hebrew Quiz

1. Chametz - חָמֵץ

2. Chimutz - חִמוּץ

3. Chometz - חוֹמֶץ

4. Chumutz - חֻמוּץ

5. Chamutz - חַמוּץ

Sefat Emet - Yehudah Aryeh Leib Alter (1847-1905, Poland)

The Baal Shem Tov taught that there must always be a point of enthusiasm in our hearts. This is the meaning of the phrase “A perpetual fire shall be kept burning.” The altar symbolizes the heart, and the fire is our enthusiasm.

When Scripture here says “perpetual” it does not mean only in terms of time [i.e., that our enthusiasm must always exist], but suggests that the enthusiasm must be because of the promise of perpetuity [in other words, we are enthusiastic because of the promise that our inner fires will never go out]. When we commit to sustaining our engagement with all our heart and soul, then that inner fire will “not go out.”

Rabbi Dayna Ruttenberg (USA, 1975- )

These preparations for Passover can feel deeply spiritual in one way, but also invite us to ask whether we’re removing the spiritual chametz from our lives along with the physical stuff. A lot of traditional commentators describe chametz as fluffy, swollen (think of bread rising), and talk about spiritual chametz as the puffy, overextended parts of our ego; the way we try to posture and preen, to achieve renown rather than just existing as we are, being gentle and modest; a mere humble matzah, if you will.

It’s a lot harder to sweep out our illusions about ourselves, the ways in which we try to put ourselves first, the ways in which we hear others a little less well because we think of ourselves as more important, the ways in which we take shortcuts on our integrity and deepest values. There’s no cabinet in which we can lock away our pettinesses and our meannesses for a week.

Rather, we have to seek them out. Like the search for physical chametz that happens in the dark, with a candle, we need to be intentional in our attempts to collect all of the parts of who we’ve been that are not nourishing, that are dragging us down. We need to look for it, and we need to be willing to find it; to confront it, to face it, to name it, to take it from where it’s been hidden all this time. This work requires tremendous bravery.

And then, when we find it, we must burn it to give it up completely, to let it go, to transform ourselves by putting the worst of who we have been on the pyre.

We know, on some level, that like the cookie crumbs under the sofa, that some of it might come creeping back after Pesach is over. But it is the act of seeking it, naming it, and releasing it, to committing, year after year after year, to purifying the self and becoming the holiest version of who we are meant to be; it is the work of seeking out and releasing our internal leaven that is, in itself, an offering to God.

Rabbi Rachel Barenblat (USA, 1975- )

Over the course of a year our fires get choked with ash. Disappointments and cynicism and overwork and burnout keep our fires from burning as bright as they could be. This week's Torah portion reminds us to clean out our ashes.