TORAH PORTION: TZAV

Parshat Tzav — Shabbat HaGadol

April 1, 2023 | 10 Nissan 5783

Torah: Leviticus 6:1-8:36 Triennial: Leviticus 6:1-7:10

Haftarah: Malachi 3:4-24

In this week's Torah Sparks, you'll find a D'var Torah on the parashah by Bex Stern-Rosenblatt called "Waiting", Vered Hollander-Goldfarb offers observations in her d'var haftarah titled "Birthdays Are a Time of Reckoning", and Ilana Kurshan reflects on mishnah in a piece called "Please, One More Chapter!".

D'VAR TORAH

Waiting

Bex Stern-Rosenblatt

Parashah

The preparation for the ordination of Aaron and his sons lasted for seven days. For these seven days, as we read in Leviticus 8:33, they were not permitted to leave the Tent of Meeting. It is not until the next parashah that we arrive at the eighth day, on which the ceremony is completed, Aaron and his sons are ordained, and they are permitted to go about their business.

The Torah includes several examples of a seven-day waiting period. These are periods of time observed differently from normal life, periods of time happening outside the rhythm of the day-to-day. We learn from Abraham’s story that circumcision should happen on the eighth day after birth. Similarly, we learn from the story of Leah, Rachel and Jacob of the seven day waiting period for a wedding. We learn from the death of Jacob of the seven days, the shiva, for mourning. As noted by the great scholar of Leviticus, Jacob Milgrom, each of these seven-day periods are times of transition from one stage of existence to another. It is on the eighth day that the new stage of existence is fully realized. 

Milgrom points out that the transitional time is often dangerous by virtue of its extraordinariness, its existence outside the bounds of the normal and expected. The seven days of preparation in our parashah are certainly dangerous. We read at the very end of the parashah that the reason Aaron and his sons were not permitted to leave the Tent of Meeting is “so that they not die.” To leave before the transitional time is completed would be to become unmoored, to invite death. 

Aaron’s sons also seem to spend much of their seven days of transition naked, which is not how most incoming leaders of a nation would choose to be presented to the public. The ritual that Moses performs during this ritual time proceeds as follows: Moses strips Aaron and his sons and washes them. Moses clothes Aaron. Moses consecrates the altar and all the bits and pieces in it by anointing them with oil. Moses consecrates Aaron by anointing him with oil. Then, at long last, Moses turns back to Aaron’s sons and clothes them. According to the midrash, Vayikra Rabbah 10:8, this ritual was repeated daily for the seven days. Aaron’s sons stood naked and vulnerable while Moses did the anointing. This nakedness is the epitome of transition. They are stripped and washed of their old identities but have not yet been given a new identity. They stand in danger but it is not until next week that the danger will be realized, that two out of Aaron’s four sons will be killed just as they are coming out of the transitional period. 

Midrash Tanhuma picks up on this, connecting the seven days of preparation with the deaths of Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu. The Midrash explains that seven-day waiting periods are actually the seven days of shiva, of mourning. Reading the story of the Flood during the time of Noah, the Midrash notes that God brought the Flood only after seven days. It also notes that God was grieving during this time, reading the verse “And God regretted” as “And God grieved.” Curiously, God mourns the loss of life in the Flood before the Flood has even happened. 

Likewise, the Midrash explains, Aaron is set up here to mourn the deaths of his sons for seven days before the deaths even happen. Moses is described as fearful, aware of the likelihood of tragedy, of punishment. Moses is alert to the danger inherent in the transition, waiting for the eighth day, for the transformation of priest into offering. The sons stand, naked, pure, and vulnerable. Two of them will become priests. Two of them will die. Upon their deaths, Aaron will not be able to grieve, to bury them. So the Midrash lets Aaron mourn them in advance, spend seven holy days with his sons before he and they change states. 

Every time of transition includes loss. But the idea of the seven day waiting period allows us to appreciate what we are leaving and to prepare for what we are approaching. It is on us to recognize these waiting periods as Moses did, to see them as something holy that allows us to sharpen our focus and achieve our goals.

HAFTARA

Birthdays Are a Time of Reckoning

Vered Hollander-Goldfarb

Haftarah

On Shabbat Hagadol, the Shabbat before Pesach, just before celebrating the Exodus and our national birth, we read the closing passages of Malachi, the last of the biblical prophets.. While we have read several special haftarot in the past weeks, this haftarah is different. Unlike the four special haftaroth, this haftarah does not come as a follow up to a special Torah reading, nor does it speak about Pesach. We are left wondering why this haftarah is read now. There are several good answers (which means that none of them is the exclusive reason). We will focus on one that connects us to Pesach. In the closing line of the haftarah the prophet Malachi speaks about the day that Elijah will arrive. If there is a time during the year with which Elijah is associated, it is Pesach, with endless stories told about him arriving at Seder night.

But that is not what Malachi is speaking about. He is creating (or reflecting) a yearning for Elijah that will come to save us from ourselves.  Out of all the prophets Malachi does not turn Isaiah or Amos into objects of longing but rather Elijah the prophet that is a self-declared zealot. While the classical prophets spoke about moral obligations and moral failings of the people, Elijah is a man of action. Elijah is leading a grassroot rebellion fighting the introduction of foreign gods and their values as a state religion, or a state culture, in an Israelite community. Jezebel, the Phoenician princess and wife of king Ahab represents those values in the time of Elijah, seeing the monarch as being above the law. In such a milieu there is not enough space for God nor for the weak elements of society. People see mainly their own interests. That is Elijah’s battle.

Elijah was only partially successful, and even that is debatable. Now Malachi speaks of God sending Elijah “before the coming of the day of the LORD, the great and the awe full.” (Malachi 3:23) It is a call to action on our part. Malachi warns us that once Elijah comes, we are only one step away from disaster. If Elijah fails God will introduce the day of God, a day of purging and complete disaster “lest I come and strike the land with utter annihilation.” (3:24.) 

On the eve of Pesach, our national birthday, the haftarah calls on us to take stock. Are we in a place that we would like to be? Are we satisfied with the way we treat each other? With the way others are treated by us? If not, as we are about to celebrate our Exodus from enslavement and subjugation, our becoming a nation, it behooves us to check on what became of this nation. If we do not like what we see, it is time to bring a change. If we are fortunate, we will have Elijah helping us. If we fail, we might be facing God’s Day of purging.

MORE

Please, One More Chapter!

Ilana Kurshan

Adventures in the Mishnah with My Kids

Pesachim 4:1,6

Matan and I are up to the fourth chapter of Masechet Pesachim, which is about customs that vary from place to place. In some places it was customary to work on the day before Pesach, and in some places it was not; a person was expected to follow the local custom. A person should not be the only one going to work on the morning before Pesach if everyone else in the community is busy cleaning the house, burning Hametz, and getting ready for the Seder that evening. But now Matan and I discover that there are some exceptions. 

The Mishnah teaches that if someone began working on a particular job a few days before Pesach and now has time to finish it on the morning before Pesach, she may do so. For instance, a silversmith who started making a cup for Elijah the week before Pesach may finish fashioning it on Pesach morning. That’s the example that comes to my mind, though Matan has his own associations.

“So if you buy a new toy or a new device, you need to make sure that you buy the starter kit and set it all up in advance,” Matan tells me. “Then you can buy all the additional pieces to set up on erev Pesach.” 

I think he has the right idea. The Mishnah goes on to clarify that a person is not allowed to start working on a new project on the morning before Pesach even if he thinks he can finish by midday, which is the latest time that everyone agrees it is permissible to work that day. “So you can’t open the starter kit on the morning before Pesach. If you haven’t opened it before then, it’s too late,” I clarify, working with Matan’s example. 

The Mishnah concludes by stipulating that there are three exceptions to this rule. There are three craftspeople who are permitted to start a new job on the morning before Pesach, assuming they can finish it by midday. A tailor may begin making a new garment, since basic sewing is permitted even on the intermediate days of the festival. A launderer may finish washing an article of clothing and a barber may start giving a haircut, so as to enable people to look and dress appropriately on the holiday.  “Besides,” says Matan, “It’s not like a barber would start cutting someone’s hair one day and finish it a few days later. What’s the guy supposed to do, walk around with half his head cut short and half still long?” 

It’s a good point. I remind Matan that our downstairs neighbor Alon is a barber, and his wife always tells us that the day before Pesach is the busiest day of the year for him; everyone wants to get a last-minute haircut before the holiday.  (After Pesach, during the period of the Omer, Alon has a relatively light workload, and the family takes vacation.)

Matan wants to know if I’m finished with the Mishnah, and if he can go back to his Spy School novel. “It’s really late,” I tell him. “I don’t think you should start reading now.” 

Matan looks at me with a gleam in his eye. “But I’m in the middle of a chapter. I’m like the barber who cut half a head of hair. You have to let me finish.” 

“Are you really in the middle of a chapter?”

“Yes, I promise, I started it last night!”

I concede. But I also remind Matan that he has all afternoon to read, and he doesn’t have to wait until he gets into bed at night. I remind my kids of this often; a few months ago, I even made up a silly song in the hope of encouraging them to read more in the daytime. “Please one more chapter, please one more chapter,” I sing tauntingly when the kids beg me at night to read just a bit more. In the afternoon, when they come home from school and announce that they are bored, I start singing my song: “Please one more chapter.” I want to remind them that now, in broad daylight, they have ample time to read all the pages they are always begging to read at night. It’s best not to wait until right before bedtime to start reading, just like it’s best not to wait until erev Pesach to get a haircut. I sigh. “You can read for another 15 minutes,” I tell Matan, peering sternly over the top of his book. “It’s the custom in this house for all children to be in bed with the lights out after 10pm, and I’m sorry to say there are no exceptions.”

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