Tzav (Shabbat Hagadol)
Last week we began reading Sefer Vayikra [Leviticus], which largely concerns itself
with priestly rituals, including korbanot ("sacrifices"). It's tempting
to want to hit the virtual fast-forward button at this time of year;
offering livestock on the altar doesn't speak to most of us. Last week
[another congregant] brought another way of thinking about this: these were
not the acts of a primitive people as the Rambam opines, but rather an
awe-filled moment when ordinary Israelites get to stand within a few paces
of the presence of God. What an experience that would be!
Since the destruction of the Temple, korbanot have been replaced by prayer. As with the korbanot, we follow a specific ritual in our prayer, hoping to draw closer to God. We don't just make stuff up; there is a specific order, a specific ritual. God may no longer be within a few paces, but even so, there are times in our prayer ritual when we might still make that connection.
The interesting thing about korbanot, to me, is that it's a joint activity. The Israelites need the priest to perform the ritual, but the priest can do nothing if the Israelites don't show up and do their part. Prayer, too, is a joint activity; we rely on our leaders to facilitate our prayer rather than each just doing our own thing, but leaders without people ready to pray can't do much. Our leaders can help us draw closer to God -- and we can help our leaders, and each other, do the same. While individual prayer is possible, it's not the preferred form.
This week's portion begins with the ritual taking out of the priestly leftovers. The priest dresses a certain way to collect the ashes from the altar, changes clothes, takes the ashes outside to a pure (tahor) place... it's all very formalized. Last week we learned from the korban; this week, what can we learn from the after-effects?
What I take from this is that the holy act of bringing Israel closer to God does not begin and end with the offering of the korban. It begins with the selection of the animal or the measuring-out of produce, and it ends with the removal of the ashes. So, too, our prayer need not begin with the opening niggun and end with kaddish. Prayer produces residue, like ash, that is as holy as the prayer itself. What will we do with it? After we leave here, perhaps we will continue to contemplate our relationship with God or, even better, discuss torah over lunch with each other. That's not just passing time; that is a holy, priestly, activity.
In a few days we'll all (I hope!) be enjoying sedarim for Pesach. The celebration of our redemption needn't end with the eating of the afikomen. We should continue to reach out to God, and we should remember that we do that through the reading of the haggadah and the singing of songs, and also from the sweeping-up of the matzah crumbs afterwards. The Pesach lamb was the first korban commanded to Israel; at the seder that replaces it, may we remember that the experience of kiruv should not end at the altar.
Since the destruction of the Temple, korbanot have been replaced by prayer. As with the korbanot, we follow a specific ritual in our prayer, hoping to draw closer to God. We don't just make stuff up; there is a specific order, a specific ritual. God may no longer be within a few paces, but even so, there are times in our prayer ritual when we might still make that connection.
The interesting thing about korbanot, to me, is that it's a joint activity. The Israelites need the priest to perform the ritual, but the priest can do nothing if the Israelites don't show up and do their part. Prayer, too, is a joint activity; we rely on our leaders to facilitate our prayer rather than each just doing our own thing, but leaders without people ready to pray can't do much. Our leaders can help us draw closer to God -- and we can help our leaders, and each other, do the same. While individual prayer is possible, it's not the preferred form.
This week's portion begins with the ritual taking out of the priestly leftovers. The priest dresses a certain way to collect the ashes from the altar, changes clothes, takes the ashes outside to a pure (tahor) place... it's all very formalized. Last week we learned from the korban; this week, what can we learn from the after-effects?
What I take from this is that the holy act of bringing Israel closer to God does not begin and end with the offering of the korban. It begins with the selection of the animal or the measuring-out of produce, and it ends with the removal of the ashes. So, too, our prayer need not begin with the opening niggun and end with kaddish. Prayer produces residue, like ash, that is as holy as the prayer itself. What will we do with it? After we leave here, perhaps we will continue to contemplate our relationship with God or, even better, discuss torah over lunch with each other. That's not just passing time; that is a holy, priestly, activity.
In a few days we'll all (I hope!) be enjoying sedarim for Pesach. The celebration of our redemption needn't end with the eating of the afikomen. We should continue to reach out to God, and we should remember that we do that through the reading of the haggadah and the singing of songs, and also from the sweeping-up of the matzah crumbs afterwards. The Pesach lamb was the first korban commanded to Israel; at the seder that replaces it, may we remember that the experience of kiruv should not end at the altar.