Parashat Tzav, Leviticus 6:1-8:36, Shabbat HaGadol

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After the Enlightenment- the Dishes.

Study with Baruch Sienna

The Shabbat before Pesach is called Shabbat HaGadol, either because traditionally the Rabbi would give a longer than normal sermon (with a focus on preparing for Passover) or because the penultimate verse of the specially assigned Haftarah (from the book of Malachi) talks about the coming yom hagadol, "of the great, fearful day" (3:23). Passover begins next week, and the first Seder is Monday evening, Apr. 2.

On Shabbat, the regular Torah portion of Tzav is still read. The two letter word Tzav is part of the Hebrew root for the words mitzvah, mitzvot, and the word, vetzivanu, all related to 'commandment.' The parasha continues from last week's description of the different sacrifices to this week's detailed how-to manual for the priests on how to offer them. The first offering, the burnt offering (olah- from the Hebrew root to go up) was to remain on the (burning) altar all night until morning. The next morning, the Kohen's first job was to remove the ashes from the altar.

The Rabbis were fascinated by the notion that the Torah worries about the ashes, and that the Kohen himself removes them. (Doesn't he have anything more important to do?) The Etz Hayim commentary asks "Why were the ashes treated with such reverence? It symbolizes the idea that what was holy yesterday must be treated with respect today as well." This is like the midrash that teaches that even the broken stone tablets were placed in the ark beside the second pair of tablets.

The Chasidic sage Simcha Bunem teaches that by removing the ashes, this first act of the Kohen would remind him of the simple tasks of people even when he is occupied with such holy and awesome responsibilities.  There is always the danger that religious leaders in ivory towers lose touch with the challenges faced by normal laypeople with living a holy life. By putting on ordinary clothes and removing the ashes the Torah ensures that he never forgets his link with common people.

We no longer have to remove the ashes, but as this week is the week before Pesach, many of our readers are probably removing the crumbs from their house. Now I know that some people get so carried away with vacuuming their drapes and dusting every page of every book (in case one was eating crackers while studying and some crumbs fell in the crack) that they arrive too exhausted to enjoy the Seder. Rabbi Nachman was very much against all the special stringencies that are observed on Pesach. He notes, "Many people went so far in observing the many fine points of custom that there were actually depressed by the holiday." And don't turn Pesach into just spring cleaning. Remember, "dirt is not chametz."

Haviva Ner David writes a wonderful essay in The Women's Passover Companion (highly recommended and reviewed here) about resenting that her mother occupied herself with cleaning (for weeks before Passover) while it was her father who got to lead the seder. Over the years, she reconsidered the role of cleaning for Pesach and re-evaluated her feelings and realized that like most of society, she was herself guilty of devaluing her mother's contribution precisely because it was considered 'women's work'. After all, if the roles were reversed, and it was women who led the Seder, and men who did the cleaning, we'd think it was the cleaning that was the most important part of the holiday.

The truth is there is also a spiritual lesson in cleaning. There is a wonderful tradition that sees chametz not as leaven and crumbs, but as puffed up pride and arrogance, the yetzer hara, the evil inclination. In addition to the recitation that nullifies the chametz, some haggadot even have a passage that makes this explicit:

May it be Your will, Adonai our God and God of our ancestors, that just as we have removed the chametz from our homes, so shall You burn out the evil inclination from our hearts. Please, God, remove from our hearts the bad part of our ego, and purify us lovingly, empowering the good sides of our ego. Let our souls shine and be empowered with your light and be connected to You in the higest holiness, which shall be with us always. (Ben Ish Hai, Bagdad, 19th century)

In past years, our family has used the ceremonies of searching and burning the chametz to be an opportunity for some inner soul searching, much like tashlich, the casting of bread/sins, 6 months earlier at Rosh Hashanah. Some years we've even written notes (like Ner David) of what we want to remove from our hearts and burned them in the BBQ pit with the bread we collected the night before.

In her essay, Ner David shares an important lesson. She learned that all the preparations for Passover are important and have the potential for holiness. Cleaning for Pesach AND leading the seder have value. Of course, we agree with Ner David who rejects the division of labour: women clean, men pray and study. (She has studied for Orthodox semichah). She hastens to add that she believes that men must learn to be more engaged in roles that they have not been accustomed to (like sharing in the housekeeping and cleaning for Passover), while she challenges women to get more involved in mitzvot and practices that they have traditionally not considered their own.

Different households may have different arrangments and agreed upon division of labour. After all, I am in charge of maintaining our wireless network and my wife is in charge of our social calendar. But whatever our roles, what we do and contribute to our homes and to the world are opportunities for holiness. This is illustrated by our verse about the Kohen. His job was to offer the sacrifices and remove the ashes.

The title of Jack Kornfield's book, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry may be the modern version of the Zen saying: "Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water" . Maybe the Jewish version is "Before the Seder, vacuum the dining room; After the Seder, vacuum the dining room." We all want the spiritual high of an interactive, engaging Seder. No one likes to wash dishes from thirty people. But it is a false dichotomy to say that there is only meaning and spirituality in reciting the words of the Haggadah and singing the songs and eating the ceremonial foods, but not in the cleaning and cooking and preparing.

But what if  every act can be infused with mindfulness and sanctity? What if every act was an act of service and holiness?

 

Chag Pesach sameach vekasher and Shabbat Shalom

BDS