Parashat Tzav: Ensuring that our own eish tamid does not go out

Within my community, when I describe the ner tamid, the eternal lamp that burns in front of our sanctuary, I often ask students how it continues burning. When I joke with children or even adult community members about the time I accidentally stumbled upon the power switch for the ner tamid, and how I’ve seen the lightbulb of the ner tamid being changed, my joke is met with both laughter and horror.

Now, I can understand the laughter, but the horror?

In our Torah portion this week, Tzav, we are reminded multiple times about the eish tamid, the perpetual fire, which must continue burning on the altar. This commandment is repeated in verses 2, 5 and 6 of Chapter 6 of Leviticus. Its repetition obviously points to how important it is. However, in only one of those verses, verse 5, do we read about how we are meant to keep the fire burning. There, the Torah tell us: “The fire on the altar shall be kept burning, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed wood to it, lay out the burnt offering on it, and turn into smoke the fat parts of the offerings of well-being” (Leviticus 6:5).

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We have been taught fables about how the ner tamid never goes out. We’ve been groomed (and we teach our children) the magic of the ner tamid. And for good reasons. There is something special about the spiritual lessons we glean from this notion of perpetual lights. In many ways, the ner tamid represents all good Jewish values that we hope extend in perpetuity: memories of our loved ones, Jewish values we are taught, our ideas or Torah that we learn. May they all nourish us for generations to come!

However, there is also something to be said about pointing out the limits of the ner tamid or, as parashat Tzav mentions, the eish tamid. It is here where we are reminded of the role of the priest in ensuring that the eish tamid continues to burn. Imagine this (especially after learning about the magic of the perpetual lamps or fires): the priest has to make sure the fire doesn’t go out! It is a mere human who adds wood to the fire!

I could imagine a student or two of mine being disappointed to learn that the very ritual object that was so magical is now seen as something that is at the mercy of the hands of humans! This explains the expressions of horror I noticed in my students when they learn that our sanctuary’s ner tamid has a switch or that every once in a while, it needs a new lightbulb.

Sandwiching the commandment that obligates priests to add wood to the sacrificial fire between two verses that emphasize the perpetuity of the eish tamid could be one way of masking the role of humans in this spiritual flame. After all, we spend more time talking about how the fire must never go out and less time talking about how we are going to prevent its demise.

But I choose to believe something different. Sandwiching the commandment of priests to add wood to the fire in the middle of other relevant verses is the Torah’s way of putting human agency at the front and center of our obligations to ensure the perpetuity of our spiritual and religious fires. We all know that the ner tamid sometimes needs a new lightbulb. We all know that when the electricity goes out, so might our eternal lamp. We could venture to guess that even the ner tamid might have an on-off switch. But we ignore these realities because there is something innately meaningful when we think about the miracle of the eternal lamp that never goes out.

The challenge is that many of us also apply this expectation to our own lives.

We push ourselves to the limits without giving ourselves a break. We expect our bodies to continue going without necessarily investing our time into them. We become frustrated when picking up a new hobby without carving out time to learn and practice. We are disappointed in our faith or angry at God without building a regular relationship with the Divine. And we find ourselves doing the same, perhaps, in our marriages or with our children.

The eish tamid will not continue burning on its own unless the priest regularly adds wood to it. And our challenge as people of faith is to not expect that the important fires in our lives will continue burning without tending to them ourselves.

With Pesach coming, we are free people to choose what to do with our time. And here’s one rabbi’s pitch for us to think about the spiritual fires in our lives that are most important to keep aflame. Sometimes this means turning off the switch of one ner tamid so that we can turn on the switch of another one.

May this Shabbat Ha’Gadol and Pesach inspire us to continue tending to and nourishing the most important fires in our lives. And may these fires continue to set aflame in us an ongoing and holy connection with the Divine.