We have started a new parasha this week (of course) - Tzav - the second parasha of the Book of VaYikra.
In this first two aliyot, there is something so deeply mystical about the concept of an aish tamid - an "always flame" or, as more commonly translated, an "eternal flame." As VaYikra 6:6 so succinctly sets forth: "A fire that is permanent shall be kept burning on the Altar; it may not be extinguished." Again, there is something so hauntingly beautiful, mystical, and enchanting about the image and general concept -- a fire that is never put out, even when the altar travels from place to place.
I am sure that one -- okay, thousands -- exist, but my Torah does not contain a commentary as to why the verse speaks about both the need for a "permanent fire" and prohibits its extinguishment. Having both clauses, even in a short verse, seems redundant.
What immediately comes to mind for me is that in Judaism -- and in life -- there are things to do and things not to do. We commonly know them as positive commandments and negative commandments. But, really, has anyone ever asked why we need both? I know it seems like an obvious and perhaps outrageous question -- but if we have a commandment to love G-d with all our our heart, all of our soul, and all of our strength - why do we need so many commandments about what not to worship? Why is the Torah so careful in giving us both the positive and negative example?
One of the basic laws of physics -- every action has an equal and opposite reaction -- here seems to actually have its origins in this Holy Book. When we choose to do something -- maintain a flame for all time -- we are also choosing not do another -- extinguish it. Therefore, the Torah comes to teach us an incredibly powerful lesson -- that the choice -- ideally the right choice -- is not only being made for its own sake but at the sake of an infinite number of other choices -- ideally the wrong ones. The idea that life is filled with nearly infinite choices, not only in the big contexts like profession and partnership, but also in every single moment, in staggering and downright dizzying. But we must come to terms with the fact that every single choice -- again, G-d forbid that it should be the wrong one -- forecloses on every single possible other one.
This, to me, reveals one of my ultimate religious truths -- that at all times, G-d actually does want to make the single right choice and that all others are incorrect. It sometimes appears to be a very narrow bridge, with very little room for error. But at the same time, such knowledge that the right choice does exist and that without enough prayer, study, kindness, and meditation, such choice will become as obvious as the color of the sky -- that knowledge is actually incredibly freeing. And G-d will lead us down this path, usually by our own free will but sometimes not, according to some thinkers. (In other words, sometimes the correct choice will be made for us.) Either way, perhaps this is what all the mystics had in mind when discussing the Jewish concept of cheyrut - freedom.
So, let us not only keep on the eternal fire. Let us also not extinguish it either.
Comments
Post a Comment