Tzav (Shabbat Parah)
Lev. 6:1 – 8:36 

By Rabbi Baht Weiss

Last Friday night before Shabbat Services, we lit a yahrzeit candle for my father.  It felt awkward to leave the lit candle burning on the counter when we left for synagogue, but after making sure there were no paper products close by, we trusted that the flame would be secure in its contained glass case.  After all, this was a treasured ritual of Judaism.  In Judaism it is not just on yahrzeits that we light a long-lasting flame.   

We first heard about the Ner Tamid, The Eternal Light, a few weeks ago in Parshat Tetzaveh where we are commanded l’haalot ner tamid, for kindling lamps regularly. (Exodus 27:20).  In each of our synagogues we have a Ner Tamid, an Eternal Light, which magically seems to always remain lit.  

In this week’s Torah portion, Tzav we are also commanded to offer korbanot-sacrifices to God on the altar. Tzav begins with explaining the ritual of the olah, the burnt offering which were the sacrifices performed during daylight hours.  The burnt offering would take longer and so these portions were to be left on the altar to burn for the night. Leviticus 6:6 reads, “Esh tamid tokad al-ha-mezbeach, lo tikbeh-An eternal (or perpetual) fire should be kept burning on the altar, not to go out.”  The light of the Ner Tamid dwelled then in the Mishkan, the portable tabernacle and today in the synagogue, in the holiest place, and it was meant to be a constant reminder of God’s love of our people and our love for God. 

In the same way, lighting the Yahrzeit candle for my father was a sign of my remembrance of him and my unending love for him.   

Rabbi Sharon Brous, the Senior Rabbi of Ikar, a Jewish Community in Los Angeles points out that the Rabbis are clear that the original Ner Tamid was not lit all the time.  She explains that on the one hand, tamid means always, but tamidot actually connotes not continuously but continually.  Rabbi Brous further explains that continual means something that happens frequently, or even regularly, something that starts and stops and starts again, but continuous means something that never stops, like a circle, it just goes on and on.  The Ner Tamid, the Holy Light is continual.  From this she deduces, the great power is not in letting the light shine forever more, but rather by continually lighting the light. Re-lighting the light every day is the holier path because it requires ongoing commitment and continual presence rather than declaring everlasting love. Rabbi Brous says this means, “I love you today and I will continue to love you tomorrow and then on the next day and the next day again.” 

If we truly care about people we are in relationship with, when those people we care about lose a loved one, we don’t only show up at the funeral and during the first week of shiva. Like the Ner Tamid, we show up continually, a month later, a year later, on holidays or at special moments.  In the same way, I lit my yahrzeit candle, not just this year, but for the last 15 years so that I can continually remember and respect one of the people who gave me life.  And it feels special, when my eight- and six-year-old, stand beside me, and are part of that continuity. In fact, my eldest son is named after my father.  Through him, my father lives on. My hope is that my connection and my children’s connection to Judaism and Jewish ritual will be continuous and ongoing. Keeping the flame of Judaism alive is not a one-time action, but a life long practice.

VaYikra (Shabbat Zachor)
Lev. 1:1 – 5:26 

Rabbi Gary Pokras 

After God brought us out of Egypt with a mighty outstretched hand, what was our destination? According to Rabbi Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl (d. 1797) it was not the Promised Land! In his commentary, Meor Einayim (“Light to the Eyes”), he found the ultimate destination in this week’s Torah portion: VaYikra. 

Rabbi Menachem Mendel notes that immediately after leaving Egypt, God gives us the commandments about observing Passover and circumcision, but nothing else. Then, weeks later, at Sinai we are given the Torah but are then immediately commanded to turn our attention to building the tabernacle, delaying our understanding of Torah until the construction is completed.  

To help us better understand this sequence, he offers a parable, asking us to imagine what it would be like to suddenly bring someone who had always lived in darkness into bright sunlight. They could never endure it and could only be exposed to light little by little before they could try again. Similarly, the Israelites in Egypt lived their entire lives cut off from the light of God, and that light could only be revealed bit by bit – not all at once, lest they too become overwhelmed.  

In his commentary to VaYikra, Menachem Mendel makes two observations about the word VaYikra itself, which is also the first word in the portion and in the book of Leviticus. VaYikra means “and He/he called.” First, Menachem Mendel notes that we don’t discover it is God who is calling until later in the verse. He sees this as a kindness towards those who might be intimidated or unready (or uninterested) if they knew God was calling. Second, he notes that the last letter in the word VaYikra, an alef, is always scribed in a small superscript. He connects this to the mystical concept that this letter is the aluf, the Chief of the Cosmos who calls out to and indeed lives within each and every one of us.  

Menachem Mendel teaches that God is never stops calling us to return. We don’t always pay attention to this call. Other times we only perceive it vaguely, and without understanding that it is the Holy One calling us. In other words, we still live in darkness. He writes: “This is why the verse states VaYikra [using a pronoun and not God’s proper name]. But when we do understand that it is the Holy One calling to us, and we return from our incorrect ways and turn back to the Blessed Creator, then [the verse continues]: ‘And the Holy One spoke to him from the Tent of Meeting.’”  

The alef within is that tiny, hard to hear divine voice, speaking to us even when we are unaware of its presence. All of us, no matter how lost or wicked, can return, can make teshuvah. The alef is the divine voice within us that unceasingly invites us back to God and reminds us how much better we feel and act when we return. Each time we respond to the call, our awareness of the divine light around us increases. 

Return to the light of God is the destination, the place of Promise we all seek.