Summary

Parashat Tzav contains all the instructions regarding the sacrificial cult, culminated by the installation of Aaron and his sons as priests in the Tabernacle.

Commentary by Rabbi Janet Burden, Ealing Liberal Synagogue & West Central Liberal Synagogue

As I sat down to compose this ‘Thought for the Week,’ I found myself thinking, “Why did I have to draw THIS portion?” But as I was subsequently berating myself for my unseemly disappointment, it occurred to me that of course - I could not be alone in my feeling about this material. Jews have been struggling with this reading for centuries. Even Lord Jakobovits once admitted that the instructions regarding sacrifice were the hardest part of our tradition to comprehend. Bolstered by this recognition, I settled in with my cup of tea to encounter the words again… And promptly got caught up in the very first one. By opening myself, I found an opening, a new way in.

Tsav. Tsav et Aharon v’et banav. “Command Aaron and his sons.” The choice of words struck me as odd. It must be fairly unusual to be commanded to command someone else. Grabbing for my concordance, I found that this was indeed the first occurrence of this usage in the Torah. Before now, Moses has been told to speak (diber) or to say (emor) to the children of Israel. The building of the Tabernacle has created a new reality, one that required a shift in terminology. But what is the precise nature of this new reality?

Clearly, the stakes have been raised by creating a place for the glory of God to dwell amongst the people. There was something literally “grounding” about the Tabernacle, rather like a lightening rod. And where there is true power, there is also danger. The ritual service had to be executed properly, or the consequences would be dire. Only next week, we will read of the deaths of Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu, consumed by Divine Fire for bringing some type of inappropriate offering. We are not given details of the specific nature of their offence, but we are left in no doubt that they transgressed some type of boundary - and paid the ultimate price.

It is for this reason that the directions given to Aaron and his descendants are expressed in the language of command, and in such meticulous detail. Collectively, this set of instructions is called Torat HaOlah, the Torah of the Burnt-Offering. Nothing is omitted. Not only are we told exactly how the ashes from the sacrifices were to be disposed of, but we even know what the priest was supposed to wear when he carried out this duty. Nothing is left up to interpretation: from the beginning, everything is commanded: Tsav.

The physicality of the situation, the immediacy and gravity of it, is sometimes difficult for the modern mind to comprehend. I personally experience both fascination and horror at the concept of a physical Tabernacle or Temple. Part of me would like something that felt that real, that tangible. For the priests, anyway, religious observance was deeply practical. If you think about it for a moment…the Kohanim did a great deal of cooking and cleaning for the community. It might be worth remembering that this year as we set about our Pesach chores. None of this going off in search of transporting spiritual experiences, just get out that dustpan! If only it could be that easy…

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if one could always feel a sense of God in mundane tasks - or even in the times set aside for formal worship? Unfortunately, our lives are rarely filled with the sense of awe that must have permeated the Temple precincts. Unlike the priests, it is difficult for many of us to feel commanded at all, at least in any direct, personal way. Such a feeling is rare, and precious. So what is there to sustain us when we don’t feel it?

There was already an answer to that question in the days when the Temple still stood. Only a small number were commanded to participate in the Divine Service in Jerusalem. In Mishnah Ta’anit, however, an interesting practice is recorded that developed amongst those who could not be included in this service. Throughout the countryside, groups of individuals formed “watches” that would parallel the activities of the Temple. Instead of sacrifices, they would “offer up” a public reading of the sections of the Torah that described the cultic practices, rather like our reading today. And, in imitation of the Temple service, these “offerings” would be accompanied by Psalms and prayers.

This practice did not arise in response to a command. It is not “Torah,” so to speak. But it is a response to something we can experience just as strongly. Those who gathered together in what were to develop into our modern-day synagogues acted from the human imperative, the human need to give thanks and praise. In others words, they may not have been commanded, but they were certainly compelled. I believe it is this compulsion that has fuelled the development of the synagogue services, and many other Jewish practices, to this day.

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