Pent. Lev. 6:1-8:36
At the rabbinic ordination ceremony at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Los Angeles, each ordainee walks into sanctuary carrying a Torah that is turn to a passage that is meaningful for him or her. On the day I became a rabbi, I rolled my Torah scroll to Leviticus 6:5-6, a passage that can be found in this week’s Torah portion:
The fire on the altar shall be kept burning on it, not to go out: every morning the priest shall feed wood to it, lay out the burnt offering on it, and turn the fat parts of the offerings of well-being into smoke. A perpetual fire shall be kept burning on the altar, not to go out.
Adonai tells Moses to command Aaron and his sons to keep the fire burning. I know what you are thinking, “Of all the passages of the Torah, this is what Rabbi Forrest chose?” It is no coincidence that I spoke about these words at my Bat Mitzvah and again during my first year of rabbinical school, each time struggling to find a personal connection to this commandment. Later when I studied the sacrifices in one of my Bible classes I began to uncover the powerful symbolism of the sacrificial system. Today, I cannot imagine picking any other passage. The sacrificial rituals, and these words in particular, have come to serve as a guide for my rabbinate.
The command above is often translated as “the fire on the altar shall be kept burning on it.” Traditionally, “it” refers to the altar. But “it” can also refer to the priest: “the fire on the altar shall be kept burning within him.” Reflecting on this dual understanding, the Etz Hayim Torah Commentary explains, “the fire on the altar must be paralleled by a fire in the heart of the officiating priest, whose enthusiasm for the sacred nature of the work should never be lost.”
This command illuminates the importance of maintaining an inner passion for the work we do.
Today, our fire is kindled through learning, prayer, mitzvot and caring communities. Like the priests, I, as a rabbi, assist others in adding to the strength of this flame and work to maintain a perpetual fire for future generations. But, as this text suggests, I must also remember to care for the fire burning within me. It is a lesson I bring with me each and every time I lead services, teach the Confirmation class, dance at a “got shabbat?” or hike with Kefli campers in Yosemite.
But this command is not only relevant for clergy. Many of us have a tendency to become so absorbed in maintaining the fire for others that we often forget to kindle the fire burning within in our own hearts. We offer up everything we have, our entire flock as it were, to our work and responsibilities to others, but when it comes time to take care of ourselves, to maintain our own fire, there is nothing left to give.
Our sacrificial system teaches us that we only need to offer up a single bull or goat. No one is expected to offer up his or her entire fortune. Our professional and familial offerings are meant to bring wholeness to our lives, to draw us closer to those around us, not to drain us. When we give too much of ourselves, when we empty our physical and emotional resources, we will not be able to support a loved-one tomorrow, complete a project next week, or maintain our own fires through the next year.
On this Shabbat let us take time for ourselves. Let us kindle the fires burning in our own hearts to help sustain us in our holy work.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alissa Forrest
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